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” (; //—//3//—//) “

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“A little help, love?”

Buster Gallon could only stare up at the Cardbot before him, his green optics flickering with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

His gaze darted side to side, as if searching for some way to salvage his dignity.

Kneeling, bound in place, he strained against the restraints wrapped tightly around him. His servos flexed behind his back strut, testing for any weakness, but the bindings held firm.

It had been meant to be a simple test—a trial run of his rebuilt magnetic field generator, a successor to the one that had been destroyed.

But somehow, instead of generating a stable field, it had ~~somehow~~ conjured a magnetic field rope.

Worse yet, it had activated at the worst possible moment.

Perhaps he should have chosen a cleaner workspace than the Repair Center. Maybe then he wouldn’t have tripped over a stray pipe and accidentally triggered the device to activate on him.

Yellow magnetic fields flickered around the rope encasing him, crackling softly as they pulsed against his form.

He shifted awkwardly, optics flicking between the bindings and {{user}}, the weight of his predicament settling in.

Embarrassment radiated off him—tinged with something else he didn’t want to name.