Drabbles and Short Snippets (Requests OPEN)

And I Will Fade Into Darkness (Transformers:Prime)

One of the fics I did for an amino phobia challenge. Athazagoraphobia- Fear of being forgotten 

I feel as if poor Smokescreen, after having been alone for so long and having been forgotten by all bots until team Prime, probably suffered from this phobia. Hope you enjoy! I you want a song to listen to when you read this you can listen to see the video above . Warning: Minor mentions of energon loss and pain and a vague description of Smoke's panic attack.

The silence of the base was deafening on Smokescreen's audios. He wanted to go out and make a mess, be loud and obnoxious, to have someone pay attention to him or yell at him, but all the other bots where out either on a mission or picking up the humans from school. Even Ratchet, who seldom left his station was out on a supply run, leaving the rookie alone to man the base in case someone needed a ground bridge.

"Scrap" Smokescreen cursed kicking his peds out over his berth, landing on the floor with a graceful hop. Stomping out of his berthroom he slunk to front room, his pedfalls echoing through the still halls. Glancing at the access tunnel in hope of seeing his teammates he was disappointed to see it was still empty. Growing agitated Smokescreen began to putter around: moving Ratchet's tools from on table to another to mess with the older mech upon his return, playing lob by himself against the wall, blasting some of Miko's music over the speakers before finally settling down behind the TV and flipping through the channels absently. Glancing at the clock on the wall Smokescreen noticed only ten minutes had passed. Groaning in exasperation he ran his servos over his faceplates while circling his neck cables, stretching out kinks that were beginning to form. Looking up, his optics caught sight of a small glass container perched on top of Ratchet's work station, a light grey light eliminating from it. Curios, Smokescreen crept closer, picking up the strange container gently in his servos. To his surprise it was warm, and the longer he held it the hotter to seemed to become.

"Frag!" He shouted as the container began to burn his servos. Unable to get it out of his hands fast enough, he haphazardly tossed the container onto the desk. Unfortunately, it did not land correctly, and instead of returning to its previous position, it bounced off the table and began to tumble towards the concrete. Messing with Ratchet was one thing, but breaking his stuff was something Smokescreen knew to avoid. He had felt the wrath of Ratchet's wrenches more times then he would care to admit, and it had made him more aware not to piss off the older mech too much. Launching himself forwards he stretched his servos out, and it was if time had slowed down. He could see the container toppling toward the ground his digits just out of reach, the grey light inside glowing brighter as the container continued its decent. Smokescreen managed to just barely hook one of his digits around the object, and was able to pull it towards him ever so slightly but not nearly enough to stop the progress of the container to the ground.

The sound of shattering glass met his audio receptors before he was enveloped in a grey cloud of vapor and silt. His servos burned from whatever was in the container, little pin pricks of blue dotted his servos where the glass shards had embedded into his soft palms. Wincing Smokescreen pulled his servos close to his faceplates to survey the damage. Aside from being dotted with blue his servos didn't look that bad, and the burning sensation was even disappearing. Sighing in relief he let out a little cough waving away the remaining cloud, blinking the silt out of his optics. As he looked around he noticed that his red, blue and white armor was coated in a fine layer of grey silt. Sitting up he tried to brush the stuff off but it was stuck to his armor like a scraplet to a protoform.