currently, bitcoin mining around the world consumes as much electricity as the entire country of Ireland. and in less than a year that consumption will grow exponentially to equal that of the entire United States. and then soon after it will nearly double the entire planets consumption of electricity. cryptocurrency is like pouring gallons of gasoline onto a hellfire – the more crazed people get about obtaining it, the faster we utterly destroy the climate.
Yeah and never mind the fact that it REPRESENTS NOTHING. It isn’t representative of any actual resource of any amount of productive, useful work, it’s just fucking made up like video game money.
1. Discomfort/Disgusted 2. Confused/Uncomfortably aroused 3. Slightly aroused 4. Very aroused 5. Had an orgasm in their sleep
Saddleback has to spend a few minutes sitting in her berth, blearily, blinking and staring at the wall because what…what just happened? What was that? Of course, she doesn’t question her processor too much before she’s scrambling to get her box of toys out from under the berth. She…she’s got one based off a mechanimal, right?
She’s going to need a little help to work off that charge.
Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.
Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.
A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.
::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::
《I know the game, quit worrying》
Still projecting calm curiosity with a growing hint of interest, Gravescratch watches the new arrivals, servos drifting down Bruin’s side- and tenses, just a bit, at the touches. Not a spot he was expecting to have touched, especially not like that, and-
Ahh, he flirted accidentally. Again. Visibly relaxing and leaning into the touches a bit to make it clear that he isn’t rejecting them, he turns to look the wolves over, clearly sizing them up, then chuckles and leans up to nuzzle that pretty spiked crest. It’s very soft, and it’s not curiosity-based- it’s closer to affection, maybe a bit of reassurance.
Not quite a suggestion, but he’s trying to hint that he’s open. He’s not actually going to say anything, just in case he’s misinterpreted the situation and will scare them off or end the contact if he mentions it, but… open body language, staying much closer than is really needed for an inspection, fluffed plating around those exploring servos… he’s making it clear that he’d welcome more attention.
At this point, he’s worked his way down to Bruin’s stomach, and he lightly strokes the plating under his narrow servos as he tries to decide what to do next. The logical progression would be the big mech’s thighs, but… hm. What will the reaction to that be?
And is he going to get any sort of reaction by deliberately licking the other side of his helm, but much more slowly and obviously? Because, short of describing his distinctly unusual interface equipment, this is the best way to get people into berth with him.
…hm. If this is going how he thinks, they’ll need a berth.
A deep deep, rumble was building quietly in Bruin’s chest, but goes silent when the other mech tenses. Was that uncomfortable, did he hurt him? His own claws were safely tucked away with a short transformation sequence in his servos, but his fingers were large and clumsy sometimes.
Oh- nuzzling the crest caused an immeadiate reaction, Bruin’s armor rippling in a wave from helm to pede and a loud Whuff as air shot out of his vents. By the time his sensors re-stabilize, those hands are stroking the platelets of his stomach and well-Primus now that has to be flirting.
Bruin takes a moment trying to focus, because they’re all still faffing about in a rubble field on a potentially hostile planet, the symbionts are all projecting various amounts of amusement/protectiveness/interest through the bond, and there is a perfectly good meal that they all need laying out in the open. If Gravescratch was will to follow through, it might be best to head back to their ship.
But first- he’s gonna raise a servo up slowly and gently to fondle those twitchy antennas, the other hand still fiddling with his chest armor seams. The other mech had touched his crest so it was only fair.
“Would you ah, mind joining us on our ship? That is- if you’d like to continue this. The others are getting a bit antsy. I swear if you want to leave all you’ll have to do is ask, and we bear you no ill will.”
Gravescratch’s antennae twitch faster at the contact, then settle, and he leans his helm gently into Bruin’s touches. Mm. That’s nice, and Bruin stopped touching him when he tensed up, which is an excellent sign. Large and powerful as he may be, this mech seems friendly enough, and Gravescratch considers himself to be a good judge of character, so… does he want to go?
More specifically, does he want to go back to a ship that probably doesn’t have anything on it that will eat him, but does have people who are gentle and calm and want to pet and interface with him?
Pit yes.
Rumbling softly, he steps closer and lowers all four servos to pet seams in Bruin’s stomach and sides, leaning in to nuzzle that tempting crest again. “Absolutely. I would love for this to continue.” he purrs, then leans back a fraction, meeting Bruin’s optics. “But, and forgive my bluntness, you will not be spiking me. I am open to discussion, particularly as to whether they” a quick glance over at the cyber-wolves, “would be interested, but you spiking me is off the table because I rather like being able to walk.” he comments, one servo straying down to rub a spot on Bruin’s stomach riight above his codpiece.
He’s a bit reluctant to back off. The contact is nice, he’s still curious, and, quite frankly, he’s rather hoping to be picked up and wrapped around Bruin’s shoulders. It would probably be comfortable, and he quite likes the idea of being picked up and carried to someone’s berth. So he stays right up close, prurring softly and petting seams, and debates whether or not he wants to mention that particular desire.
Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…
Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.”
As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries.
Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.
Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…
Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.”
As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries.
Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.
Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.
Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.
A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.
::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::
《I know the game, quit worrying》
Ah, good, they’re friendly. Gravescratch sets one servo on the ground and leans down to lightly sniff at Specter from a reasonable distance, resisting the urge to lick some part of him, then sets all four servos on the ground, crouches slightly, and fluffs his plating just a bit in a clear invitation to touch. He’ll gladly indulge curiosity, if there is any to be had. “I have seen Shockwave from far too close up. I try to avoid him and his utter lack of morals. I would not welcome his curiosity. Yours, though, I will invite.” he rumbles, ducking his helm slightly to let Specter reach. And Bruin, too, he seems calm enough. Actually, speaking of Bruin…
Tilting his helm slightly to watch Bruin with the three optics on the right side of his helm, Gravescratch rather blatantly looks him over for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Would you be willing to let me come over there and look you over? I am quite curious, I admit. I will stop if you ask, and I promise not to intentionally touch anywhere too personal. No promises on accidental overstepping of bounds, I am frankly very prone to forgetting social norms, but I am not the sort of person who intentionally pushes the boundaries of others to advance my own curiosity.”
As he talks, Gravescratch arranges one primary and both secondary arms into a makeshift but rather obvious ladder, clearly an invitation for Specter to climb him. Curiosity that involves contact means he gets to figure out the curious being a bit more without having to reach out, touch, and probably overstep about 10 boundaries.
Now… how can he get close to Bruin and maybe surreptitiously get a taste of him? He definitely wants to lick Bruin. Not sure why, or where, but, hey, might as well indulge the urge if it’s safe. Might learn some things. People tend to taste like where they’ve been and what they’ve been doing.
Specter is rather impressed by all the eyes. Not touching the other mech yet but he is watching to see if they can all move and focus independently. Specter has about a 270 degree field of view and his sensory equipment more than makes up for the missing 90, but this bot could probably see even more.
Bruin gives a sharp nod, “Only good Shockwave round here is a dead Shockwave. 2 million years of his… “curiosity” is something I’ll never manage to forget.”
He is distracted for a moment by a ping from Sidewinder, << Big bot, we got a dead one. Not too fresh but I don’t think the lines are dry yet>> A quick confirmation. The wolves found what they were searching for and will be dragging it back.
He refocuses as the other mech eyes him and makes both his offers. With the rest of the pack on the way, Bruin is confident enough to accept.
< <Can I- >>
::Go on. If he tries anything you’re already in a position to do some damage::
Specter is going to spring up, by-passing the courteous ladder entirely, tail swinging out for balance as he lands on Gravescratch’s shoulder. All his claws except the massive two on his rearmost feet are retracted for safety as he digs toes into armor seams to hang on. No one likes scratched paint and torn wires. He is careful to avoid the antennas as his tail swings.
Bruin considers for a moment, “You can. But,” he holds up a hand, “I’ll hold you to that promise”
Licking isn’t likely to even register on his radar of uncomfortable unless it’s his cod piece.
Gravescratch’s optics all move independently of each other, giving him such a range of vision that he can see just about as far back as the bases of his antennae, so he can watch Specter all the way up his shoulder. Further back, too, he can see anywhere but right behind his own helm.
Two of his smallest optics fix on the odd being for a moment, but he stays relaxed, antennae quivering slightly towards the little creature. Hey, he’s got a good look at this weird little thing. And a good feel for those bizarre little feet. And he can listen to the soft lifesigns, thanks to Specter clinging onto him right near his antennae.
Slowly straightening up as much as he easily can (which means he’s still hunched over and creepy-looking), Gravescratch rolls his shoulders gently back and forth, testing how well Specter can hang on, then gives in to impulse, twists his helm around, flicks the tip of his tongue out just enough to touch it to Specter’s servo for a very quick taste, and then spins his helm around like nothing happened.
Field unfurling enough to broadcast greeting/reassurance/curiosity to both the large mech in front of him and the small mech sitting on him, Gravescratch hums gently and approaches the impressively, intimidatingly large mech, moving rather slowly to be certain it’s not a threat.
Just in case, he starts with Bruin’s arm, both primary servos drifting gently across the plating and occasionally dipping into seams, though not hard enough to hurt or even be all that noticeable. He’s not trying to start anything (he likes being able to walk, thank you, and he doubts this mech does anything but top), so he keeps the seam inspections short rather than stroking in and rubbing, and he moves quickly up to Bruin’s shoulder without lingering. The curiosity in his field strengthens gradually, as does the volume of the soft growl-hum he’s making, and it’s definitely peaked as he finds the bright orange antennae (?) on Bruin’s helm.
He should not lick these, particularly since he’s not certain how sensitive they are, but he does venture a tiny lick of one of those angled cheek guards, then ducks his helm slightly and repeats the motion with the workings of Bruin’s shoulder, though a slightly longer lick and a tiny nip to the plating.
Whoops, wait, that’s not normal. “Terribly sorry, taste is a primary sense for me. I was built to be a scavenger and given a rather strong drive to figure out what is edible and what is not. You are technically edible, but, as you are alive and not threatening me, I will not eat you. This is not me figuring out if you are edible, this is me figuring out where you have been. Do ignore that unless it makes you uncomfortable.
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