#^ even if ratchet understood the Why he would never accept the How. you know

[beeapocalypse]

the way that pharma braces his hand against the glass over ratchets makes me feel SICK

[weenwrites]

Cooking A Meal: Part 1

Summary - You ask one of the bots to cook you a meal, but honestly it goes about as well as you'd expect. Characters - Optimus, Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, Arcee, Cliffjumper, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, Wheeljack Content - Crack Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: This is an un-revised shitpost, not something too serious.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

He doesn't know anything about human cooking, but he tries for you. He's good at following a recipe, but he'll come to you every now and then to ask what something means or to have you try what he's made thus far and see if it's to your liking.

He tries making healthy meals that would cater to your tastes, and he's good at finding recipes for foods you definitely would like, it's just that when it comes to doing the actual cooking itself, it's executed rather poorly. He's not too bad, but honestly he might just under or overcook something and feed you some runny, rubbery scrambled eggs for example.

When it comes to presentation, he honestly doesn't do much in that area. He just puts the food on a plate or in a bowl and serves it to you with the appropriate eating utensil.

It may be a mediocre meal, but at the end of the day at least he cleans up after himself.

Ratchet

He's very precise with the measurements and he's an expert with a knife. Ratchet's real good at working with his hands, given his occupation as a doctor, and honestly he'd make a pretty good cook! That is, if he understood more about human cuisine...

He doesn't understand why some humans enjoy their eggs with runny yolks or some of their food to be under-cooked, and he doesn't want to give you salmonella or any other disease, so he'll end up overcooking the eggs. The same goes for any slab of meat you give him. Ask him to cook you a steak and he'll serve you what looks like a burnt block of leather that's so dry you can stand it up on it's side.

The presentation of the entire meal is plain and looks boring. He just serves everything to you separately in their own bowls or plates, and never on the same plate. But he says that the important thing is that you're eating something, not the way it's presented.

And at least he cleans up his own messes.

Ultra Magnus

He follows everything to a T. Each measurement he makes is precise, so he doesn't make too much or too little of anything. However, he'll make healthy meals for you to eat. A meal that has a bit of everything from the food triangle unless you're vegan or vegetarian. He'll refuse to make you anything unhealthy,

He even tries to present the food in a fancy-ish way! However, it's somewhat akin to being presented with a whole bunch of paperwork to fill out. The important stuff on the top (or in this case the healthiest stuff to eat) and the least important stuff on the bottom (the rest of the food). It may look a bit weird, and taste off, but... Eh, it's good enough.

Given his handicap and the fact he's still trying to regain full mobility with it, he may be a bit slow with things such as chopping up ingredients, seasoning meat, or any sort of thing that would be more efficient with 2 hands. Still, he's made a lot of progress, so much so that he appears to be doing things at a relatively normal pace.

And of course once he's done in the kitchen, he'll always dutifully clean up whatever dishes he used or messes he made without a single complaint.

Arcee

She sorta does better than everyone else here, but that's only because she insists that you tell her what to do and how to do it. She copies any examples you give her, and always looks to you for advice on how it should look, taste, smell, etc.. And she takes the entire "meal cooking" thing very seriously.

Though the meal may not be too delicious, the meal she makes you is very healthy and nutritious! She tries to include as many foods from the 5 different food groups as she can, and what she can't include she attempts to make up for by adding it as a side to the dish.

She's good at working with her hands, so she'd be quick at dicing vegetables with a knife. So preparing ingredients would be about a cinch. But along with being able to work quickly, she'd be good at handling things carefully. Like she'd be good at working with homemade pasta without ripping or tearing the dough, or pinching the edges of gyoza wrappers shut without puncturing holes in it.

The presentation itself is a bit lacking, but what matters is that most of the food on that plate is edible and very healthy for you! And she's the kind of person that insists that you finish everything on your plate, but not in any sort of forceful way. She'll just remind you to finish all your vegetables or something similar.

Cliffjumper

Similarly to literally everyone else on this list, he'd most likely overcook your food, but he still does a better job than most, but it depends on the meal. He's better at making soups than he would be at cooking meat. But he's a quick learner. He'd manage to closely copy whatever you'd show him about cooking.

He'd make quite a mess in the kitchen though. He'll accidentally knock the spatula off the cluttered counter as he reaches for something else, or he'll jokingly fling some flour at you in a playful manner. He even whole-heartedly thought that you could put the egg—shell and everything—in whatever it is you're making. He didn't think you needed to crack the shell because he once saw that humans could eat things with hard shells like snails or jawbreakers.

But when things start going awry, he'll come up with some unorthodox way to partly salvage the meal. Emphasis on partly salvage, because while it may be fixed, it now tastes off, or looks off, or smells off, but it's still edible. He knows nothing about presentation and honestly he just shovels whatever he's made you onto a plate and hands it over to you as is.

But even though the meal may be sub-par, it's hard to deny that it wasn't fun to make. That is unless you got upset at him for making a mess, in which that case he'll earnestly apologize and start scrubbing away at the mess.

Bulkhead

He lacks Ratchet's dexterity, so he's pretty sloppy with a knife. He might just end up accidentally grinding the ingredients to mush, or cutting them unevenly, but he's trying. The thing he's best at is kneading dough, but he thinks that all you need to do is punch it and move it around, so depending on the dough, he most likely ends up over-working it in seconds.

The food he'd make for you would lean more towards unhealthy and extremely delicious, unless you asked him to cook you a specific healthy food. Nonetheless, it would be a flavorful meal thanks to all the spices and seasonings he'd add to it.

The presentation's relatively nice! It might just make up for the fact the food looks a little mangled (unless you had him make you soup or something that's supposed to be mashed, then he's just about aced it). He'll ask you every now and then about the amount of pepper or salt he should add to the food, or to see if he added too much spice or too little... He might just end up burning a thing or two here or there, but for the most part, the food he makes for you is pretty good!

Bumblebee

He's good at making simple meals like sandwiches or mashed potatoes, but it's always a bit lacking in flavor. It's still good nonetheless, he just adds too little salt, pepper, or seasoning in general. Anything more complex than that and he'll be serving you a mess on a plate.

He's very considerate and tries to make a meal catered towards your personal tastes. If you're vegan or vegetarian, or have an allergic reaction to something, he'll try and find a recipe for something you can eat.

He tries to make the food look "cute". Like if you asked him to make you pancakes, he'd try to stack them up and make a face on them out of whipped cream, m&ms, and syrup. It may taste a bit weird, or sickeningly sweet, but the presentation's nice.

Smokescreen

He sucks at it. He cooks using the microwave instead of the stove. Once he's done with it, your microwave will smell like a dumpster fire, and you'll have to scrub away at all the splattered food that hardened into thick layers of burnt crust which is near impossible to get off. Even if you ignore it, the stench from the microwave might just seep into whatever you cook in there next, and absolutely ruin it's flavor. It's safe to say that your microwave is ruined.

The only knowledge he has of cooking is from watching Hell's Kitchen and Kitchen Nightmares, but then again those shows didn't really teach him anything about cooking, they just served as entertainment. I mean the most he learned is that you should keep track of when you got ingredients, and to keep your pantry, fridge, cabinets, and kitchen clean, but that doesn't help him boil an egg.

Speaking of eggs, he tried cooking an egg in the microwave once—under the impression that the egg would boil—and much to his surprise, it exploded.

He presents the food in an... Interesting way... Honestly he just arranges it in whatever way looks cool and serves it to you with a "bon appetit".

He promises he'll clean up your microwave once he's done, but there's this stench that will always remain in there no matter what you do.

Wheeljack

He's hopeless too. Not only does he burn like 80 percent of what he's supposed to be cooking for you, but he over-seasons it too. There will be so much pepper on your food that you'll be sneezing the moment you catch a whiff.

But with a little supervision in the kitchen, he could make you something remotely edible. It may not look the part or smell the part, but it still is edible to some degree. He's very handy with a knife, and if you knew a thing or two about food science, he'd be open to listening to you talk about the glucose bonds in dough and whatnot.

If he put in a little bit of his time to do some research about food, he'd actually get a solid grasp of the bare bones of cooking. Like how long to cook meat and how to know if it's done, how to work a ball of dough, how not to overcook vegetables... Et cetera. Because it's all science-y in a way.

The presentation of the meal itself is average. He doesn't quite know how to "decorate" your food, so he just slaps it on a plate, or pours it in a bowl, or serves it in whatever fashion it should be served in, and he gives it to you.

[eldritch-araneae]

Sparkpulse V: Forgotten Communications

Summary: After getting a mysterious message, Bumblebee taking the investigation into his own hands.

"It says 'Shadowlurker, we need to talk'." Bumblebee reports the message he discovered minutes ago on the forgotten radio channel that was transmitted is a weird beeping code. Optimus Prime, Prowl, Jazz, and Ratchet are so perplexed.

"That's interesting! I never heard anything like this before." Jazz exclaims in curiosity and excitement. There's no such thing as 'enough secret codes' that Autobots could use to cipher their transmissions. "I wonder who is the sender? I never heard Decepticons using this code, nor our ranks. And I still do not know who this 'Shadowlurker' person is. I keep hearing Decepticons talking about them, but the information about this ‌individual still eludes me."

"Someone from another hidden faction, perhaps?" Optimus suggests, though it is very unlikely.

"Or someone using this name as cover?" Prowl thinks out of loud.

Bumblebee considers everything for a second. He is an agent who doesn't talk much about things he's doing on the side and often withholds bits of information from his superiors. But it seems like this situation demands it."Well, I can say for sure the sender is Decepticon."

"Oh? Do you know something?" Jazz perked.

"Well..." Bumblebee paused, hesitating for a moment. " You see, 'Shadowlurker' is a name that Decepticons gave to me after the effects of my scare tactics picked up among their ranks."

All four mechs stare at him in surprise, before Jazz bursts into laughs.

"Bumblebee, are you telling me it was you who was harassing Decepticons in their own bases for the last two centuries?!" the head of the Special Operations Departement claps his hands. "Amazing, I'm very proud of you!"

If Bumblebee could blush, his face would be pink right now. "T-thanks."

"That's centrally a pleasant surprise. Why did you never report this, though?" Optimus asks the minibot, sounding more curious rather than judging.

"Um... well... I" Bumblebee trails off, not sure how to word the 'I just prefer to keep things to myself' that would sound acceptable. It's not like the doesn't trust Autobots, but there are things he prefers to keep hidden and investigate before reporting anything to the high command.

"C'mon, Prime, Bumblebee is a SpecialOps Agent! That means some things are bound to be kept in secret until further analysis." Jazz jumps to his aid. Bumblebee mentally sighs in relief.

"True." Optimus smiles under his mask.

"But why is a Decepticon actively seeking you out?" Prowl raises a more important question. "I'm afraid it might be set up for a trap, considering your reputation."

"Indeed, Megatron set up a bounty for capturing Shadowlurker alive." Jazz said, agreeing with his friend.

Bumblebee is well aware of this. He wonders why Megatron wants him alive. But no time for this. The minibot is trying to remember anything that might hint who a mysterious sender can be. He never interacted with 'cons, except Acid Storm that one time.

But can it be? It's been a while... There is only one way to find out.

"Allow me to investigate this further." Bumblebee peaks up.

"Are you sure, Bumblebee?" Optimus asks in concern. "If this is a trap, we cannot risk you being captured."

'We don't want to save you again' the voice of insecurity translates this in the back of Bumblebee's mind. He forces this thought deep into his subconscious, as he really has no time for this.

"I'll be alright, I promise! Plus, I know this code somehow. I will be much faster if I do this."

"There is no denial in that. I wonder how, though." Optimus says. Not even Ratchet recognizes it, yet the youngest 'bot knows what it is. "Alright, you can investigate this matter, but if you get in trouble, contact us immediately. Understood?"

"Yes!"

As the night creeps over the ruined city of Iacon, Bumblebee climbs the Autobot Stronghold to get to the highest point in the area. He listens to the abandoned radio channel. The message is still being transmitted there.

The minibot activates his system interface. With no trouble, Bumblebee finds the program to translate his message into this code, then sends it to any channel of his choice. This code is a series of short and long beeps, various combinations translated into different symbols.

Bumblebee keeps it simple, asking the location where the mystery Decepticon wants to meet up with him.

.-- .... . .-. . ..--..

Double-checking his spelling, he drops this message to the same radio channel to see what will happen next.

"There you are!" a sudden voice from behind made the minibot jump in place and fall from the ledge. Thankfully, he was quickly caught by a familiar pair of hands. "Woops, sorry Bee."

"Windblade, you can't just sneak on me like this!" Bumblebee complains with a soft laugh.

"Sneak on you? Is this even possible?!" She carefully places her smaller friend back onto the ledge he was perched on a few seconds ago.

"Apparently, yes. I wasn't paying attention since I'm more occupied with my current task."

"I know. Do you think it's them?" Windblade asks, being the only person who knows about his interaction with Acid Storm. Bumblebee can only shrug, though he hopes it's the case. "Anyway, I'm coming with you!"

"Huh?" Bumblebee tilts his head. He used to work alone most of the time, only sometimes to be paired with Nyx for a nocturnal patrol. It's just how it is, even though he makes him feel lonely more than anything. "Is the high command worried about me?"

" Yes, and I insisted on assisting you. I know you're careful and hard to catch, but this Decepticon wants to meet you and I cannot let you go alone."

Part of him wants to protest, he's more than capable of doing this investigation and wants to prove that he's a worthy member of the Autobots. But this is Windblade, she won't judge him, right? Besides, her telepathy might help a lot. And he can't say 'no' to her.

They grew into each other a lot, didn't they?

"And nope, you cannot convince me to leave." The Cityspeaker says as if she was reading his thoughts right now. Bumblebee smiles and nods in agreement: together it is.

The minibot switches his attention back to the radio channel to find a new message that is being broadcasted. "That was quick."

After listening for a few passes, the message looked like this:

.. .----. -- / .-- .- .. - .. -. --. / .- - / .. .- -.-. --- -. / -... --- .-. -.. . .-. / .- -....- .---- .-.-.-

"What does it say?" Windblade asks as she listens as well.

"They're waiting at Iacon border A-1." Bumblebee replies, looking toward his next destination, trying to spot anything in the distance. Seeing nothing, he turns back to Windblade, who appears to be in thought.

"What if you hide, and I'll do the talking with this 'con? They still don't know what you look like, right? Gotta conceal your identity to keep the spooky image!"

Ah slag, she always finds a way to keep him out of danger, though it's a good idea. Bumblebee lets out a small laugh. "Alright, you win this one."

She smirks for a second, then picks her friend into her arms and takes off.

Windblade standing at the meeting spot, leaning into a big piece of an armature sticking from the ground. Bumblebee is hidden under debris, having an excellent view of the outside.

'I hope we don't have to spend all night waiting for them,' Windblade says, using her telepathy to communicate with her hidden friend.

'Me too, that would be awkward to find out they just got lost or something,' Bumblebee replies with a tiny giggle. Windblade laughs quietly. 'Maybe I should have —'

Before Bumblebee could finish his thought, a spark entered his senses' range. It moves quickly towards them. He focuses on it to identify... and it's not someone he expected today!

'Bee?'

'It's not Acid Storm!' Bumblebee only had time to warn her, before a roar breaks the silence as a big figure leaps over the debris, landing in front of the Cityspeaker: a Storm Wyvern with purple, light blue, and golden plating.

Their head has sharp teeth, red optics, and long horns sticking up. The beastformer stands on four limbs. Forelegs have rudimentary wings that aren't suitable for flying, but are good enough for gliding. Their back has six electrical antennae that are crackling with electricity. Their long segmented tail ends with another electric antenna that is shaped like a fork. The Decepticon insignia is visible on the left side of their chest.

"Thundermoon." Windblade frowns as she moves her hand onto the sword, being ready to draw it any second. The Decepticon stares at her for a moment before transforming into root-mode. The beast head slides onto the right shoulder, revealing a hominid head with long antennae.

"Heh. Well, you definitely can't be him, as you are too big to fit in vents." They grin in amusement. Bumblebee does not detect any malice coming from their spark yet. "So I assume you're here in his stead, Windblade?"

"Correct, but he's here and listening to your every word. State your business."

Thundermoon looks around, trying to locate the minibot, but Bumblebee knows how to hide well.

"I see, the shade of Autobots is elusive as ever. Alright, I'm here on behalf of Rainmakers and, uh, I guess myself, too. We wish to join the Autobots."

Both Windblade and Bumblebee stare at them with wide optics.

'Did you hear what I hear?' Windblade asks her friend through telepathy.

'Yep! I'm trying to sense anything suspicious...' Bumblebee focuses more on the beastformer's spark. If there is a trap or attempt to infiltrate Autobots, there has to be a feeling that might give it up. When people lie, they feel either calm when they are prepared, or anxious if they are busted. Thundermoon is radiating something different: they're concerned, but also hopeful?

'Bee, I'm reading their mind, and it seems like Shockwave is experimenting with sparks! And it has to do something with Acid Storm. This seems legit. What is on your end?'

'Experimenting with what?!' it took a lot for him to not make a sound when he hears this.'They are concerned for sure! I remember Thundermoon and Acid Storm were talking about how Shockwave went too far with his “projects”, and none of them were happy about this. I think they should meet up with Prime.'

'Yeah, good call.'

After Windblade contacted Autobots to let them know about this situation, she escorts Thundermoon towards the Stronghold where Optimus Prime and the rest of the High Command are waiting for them. Bumblebee, remaining hidden, follows them until they reach their destination.

Optimus Prime is standing with Jazz and Prowl. Bumblebee senses the group is both intrigued and cautious. He's curious how this is going to turn out.

"I expected many things from this case, but this is clearly not this." Optimus says calmly. " Thundermoon, you and the Rainmakers wish to join us, which is not something that happens often. Is there a specific reason?"

"You see, when Shadowlurker raided one of our research facilities, he came across Acid Storm and offered them help. They declined back then, but now they might really need it now. Shockwave is planning something, and I'm afraid he will punish Acid Storm for refusing to help with his latest experiments." As the scientist explains the situation, they grow more disgusted by the end of the sentence.

Acid Storm still remembers him. Bumblebee can't help but feel touched. Such a small thing, but an important one.

"What experiments?"

"Uhhh, not sure what he's trying to accomplish, but he's been trying to find a way to "modify" the spark of a living person."

"What?! It's not possible!" Prowl throwing her hands up in protest. "Everyone knows you cannot change spark's settings once it arrives at this plane of existence!"

Bumblebee nods. It is true. While spark remains in the Well, the dimension it originates from, it has a very similar state of quantum superposition: it has infinite settings variations, existing at the state time. Once a spark inhabits a living vessel at birth, or injected into a protoform at forging, those settings get randomized and cannot be changed until death.

Bumblebee knows this well, an innate knowledge he was forged with.

"Well, you know what kind of scientist Shockwave is." Thundermoon sighs, idly kicking a random pebble by their right leg. "He truly believes he can bend the Universe to his whims, no matter how far he must go to reach his goals. That's why I'm here. I believe Acid Storm might be in danger."

"You think they might become his next test subject?" Windblade asks, concerned over Shockwave's assistant.

"I know it. I don’t know what else he was experimenting with, but Acid Storm refused to work with him lately."

"He won't let this go unpunished..."

"Correct. Doing science with him is a nightmare, and it was never a pleasant experience."

"If so," Jazz speaks this time." Why did you agree to work with him when you joined Decepticons?"

Bumblebee has his full attention on Thundermoon as this is such a good question. Despite their status as Apex Hunter among beastformers, he always felt that they were trapped in Kaon, like many other Decepticons. Only following Megatron's orders because they had no other choice.

"Well, the answer is quite simple. I owe him. Twice actually."

Bumblebee hits the nail in the head.

"What? Why?!" Jazz exclaims.

Thundermoon spread their hands to the sides as if gesturing to their frame. "Do you really think anybody would let me, a beastformer, into the scientific field just like that?"

"But during the Golden Era —"

"I am over 400 million years old! I lived way before Golden Era, coming from Primordial times that have been long forgotten!" The Wyvern huff in displeasure. "When functionists came to power after the rebellion against the Quintessons, they made it clear that many frames, including us, won't have any choice but to accept the function they assigned to us."

"Ah, I'm sorry." Jazz apologized as they realized his mistake. Being someone who was forged during the Golden Era, he, like many others, often forgets how it was before. Thundermoon and Botanica are the only living cybertronians that were forged in ancient times.

"Accepted."

That explains everything. Bumblebee always wondered how Thundermoon even became scientist during the Functionist Era, always suspecting they got help from somewhere or they were rich themself.

"So Shockwave was the one who let you into the field?" Prowl asks this time.

"Yep. Despite my function of being a heavy labor worker, I was studying sciences in my free time, especially nuclear physics. I guess he saw potential in me or something when I accidentally helped him out during the transportation of crucial fission reactor components. Later he assigned me to be an operator of the 1st block in the biggest Tarnian Nuclear Plant."

"Wait, are you talking about the plant that blew up and caused a huge technogenic disaster?" Jazz exclaims. Even many centuries later, people still talked about this.

"That one, yes."

Bumblebee felt their spark shuddering. Optimus frowns, appearing in deep thought.

"Is something wrong Prime?" Prowl asks him.

"I studied this event, and I do not remember your name being on the list of plant personnel."

Of course, Optimus would know the details, being the archivist from the Hall of Knowledge.

"And that’s why I owe Shockwave twice." Thundermoon clapped their hands together. "When the explosion of the 2nd block shook us, I immediately contacted higher-ups about this, but despite my concerns, they told us to keep our reactor going. I disobeyed and shut the reactor down. Later Shockwave told me to get out of Tarn if I want to live. Functionists blamed everything on personnel and were going to execute everyone, even though we prevented this disaster from getting worse! So, he told me to lie low, promising to wipe my name from records as if I never worked at this power plant." Thundermoon paused to collect themself as this still angers them after millions years. "Let me tell you, it 100% wasn't us who caused it."

Huh, that's very interesting. It looks like Shockwave was a big figure back then if he could erase Thundermoon's name just like that and without consequences.

"After a while, everything stabilized. During the Golden Era, I was working on developing fusion reactors until right before war Shockwave came and demanded to join him. I was skeptical about the whole 'we must go to this specific planet to take all resources while killing anything' rhetoric that Decepticons were pulling, but I couldn’t say "no" to him. He was the reason I got into the science field and the reason I'm alive right now." They regretfully admitted, knowing it wasn't the right choice they made back then.

Bumblebee always knew that Shockwave was a huge bastard, but hearing actual stories from others solidified his opinion. The minibot absolutely is sure this generosity and niceness were nothing but a ploy to manipulate people around him to get what he wants.

How many cybertronians did he force into this crap?!

And considering how much influence Shockwave had? This is not without a reason. Deep down, Bumblebee feels he knows it, but cannot proclaim anything just yet. He must investigate more before drawing any solid conclusions.

"I see... and I assume you didn't know how to leave until one of us offered the escape?" Optimus asks. The look on Thundermoon's face says he's correct.

"Looks like we came full circle." Bumblebee spoke for the first time at the meeting.

Everyone turns around to see a small Autobot emerging from the shadows like a beast from murky waters.

"You...?" Thundermoon mutters, unsure if this is who they think this is.

"Yes, I received your message." Bumblebee confirmed their thoughts.

Thundermoon studies the youngest member of the Autobots. Bumblebee feels the surprise radiating from their spark. They expected the fabled "Ghost of Iacon" to be entirely something else.

"Oh yeah, what kind of code did you use, by the way?" Jazz immediately jumped back into conversation at the mention of the message that started this. "We have never seen anything like this. Good thing our lil' shadow is familiar with it!"

"Ah, that's a telegraph code! It's an ancient code that was created at the end of the Quintesson Era as a way of communication during the rebellion against Quintessons. Then, over time, it was forgotten completely." Thundermoon explains. "Functionists never liked to keep history intact."

That makes sense why nobody recognized the code... well, except the Bumblebee, which is more confusing.

"How did you know I will decipher it?" Bumblebee can't help but wonder.

Does Thundermoon know something about him?

His origin?

"I didn't!"

Oh...

"To be honest, I was shocked when I received a reply from you." the scientist laughs. "I just took a chance because no Decepticon is aware of telegraph code, aside from Rainmakers I taught before departing here."

"So...how are you planning to get them out without raising suspicion?" Prowl asks, while writing something on her datapad.

"It should be simple. Since it's my shift on a nocturnal patrol, I'm supposed to be out of Kaon right now. If I won't come back, that means I stayed here, so they should follow during their diurnal shift."

Bumblebee sees how this can work. Everyone knows Thundermoon is one of the strongest cybertronians. Their electrocuting attacks are devastating, paralyzing everything in a hundred meters radius. On the battlefield, they usually serve as a living siege weapon.

That means if a fight started, they could get away. They haven't attacked through the entire time, and Bumblebee didn't sense any malicious intent from them, nor Windblade caught any suspicious thoughts that could give them away.

The picture is crystal clear.

"Very well, I assume you are genuine in your intentions." Optimus Prime says while looking at Windblade and Bumblebee.

"They are, Prime." Both said in unison, which caused a round of chuckles.

"Good, I will make an announcement to the rest of the Autobots. Prowl, they're all yours."

"Alright, you come with me then." Prowl motions to follow into the entrance of Autobot Stronghold.

After everyone went inside, Bumblebee was remaining still, appearing to be lost in thought.

"I wonder what's going to happen now." Windblade says, looking in the direction where everyone went.

"Me too. I think we should expect more 'cons coming to us after this." Bumblebee musses. "Megatron and Shockwave will try to seize this opportunity, though."

"Indeed." Windblade frowns for a second before smiling as she wraps her arm around Bumblebee's shoulders. "But I'm sure we can identify double agents before they even get here~"

The minibot grins. There is no denial in that. She's the one who can peer into a mind, and he's the one who can gaze into their very souls: no thought or intent shall escape them.

Bumblebee sees it as an opportunity because if more Decepticons would join them, that means he can save more people.

They have little time left on this planet.

[nyrandrea]

Broken

Riding on that sweet Rift Apart hype so I’ve written a little one-shot that takes place during the events of the game. (So spoilers, obviously).

Summary: Ratchet and Clank have a bit of a heart to heart while they wait for Rivet.

Also available to read on AO3 here!

Enjoy!

Clank let out a rattled sigh as a wave of relief washed over him when the large prison cell that held Ratchet and Kit finally tumbled to the ground. Albeit a little more roughly than he would have liked, but they were safe, that was all that mattered.

He and Ratchet may have had a fair number of close calls during their dangerous endeavours, but even he had to admit that he was a little shaken up at how close this one had been. If it hadn’t been for Rivet…

The small robot shook his head, deciding just to be grateful that they were all alive and well.

He gave Ratchet a quick smile as the lombax hopped down before his optics wandered over to Kit, who was still sat in the cell, hugging her knees to her chest. Clank frowned, thinking back to what Rivet had said about Kit being the one responsible for the loss of her arm. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the weight of guilt she must have carried on her shoulders.

Silently, he thanked his lucky stars that he had been created as a defect from the get-go.

Clank knew Rivet was stubborn and slow to trust, but he had seen a softer side to her during their short time together. He only hoped she had taken his words on board about forgiving Kit, because he knew that, deep down, Rivet really wanted to be friends with her. To have a partner. Someone to watch her back.

“Thanks for the save,” Ratchet said with a smile before frowning and turning back to see that Kit wasn’t following. “Kit, are you—?”

“Give us a minute,” Rivet interrupted, looking a little forlorn.

Ratchet’s eyes shifted between her and Kit, and he looked like he wanted to assist in the situation, but Clank understood this was something the girls needed to sort between themselves. Luckily, it only took a shake of the head for Ratchet to get the hint.

“We’ll meet you at the ship,” he finally said, still looking torn as he took Clank from Rivet’s back, slowly walking away.

“I understand you only wish to help,” Clank said once they were out of earshot. “But we can’t interject too much into their personal matters.”

“…I know, pal,” Ratchet mumbled back as he climbed up to the co-pilots seat, giving Phantom a nod as he did. “It’s just…”

Clank angled his head to give him a fond look; one that they had shared many times as a silent understanding. Ratchet smiled back, though his eyebrows were still slightly furrowed.

“If they are anything like us, I am sure they will make up quickly.”

Ratchet scoffed. “If Rivet’s anything like me, she won’t make it easy. I know I didn’t.”

Clank felt a shiver go through the lombax as he was settled into his lap, probably cringing at some memory of his teenage-hood. Whether it was his stubborn pride or tendency to whip out the snarky insults and sarcastic remarks; their first adventure had been quite the rocky one.

“You were quite hard-headed,” the robot admitted. “But you always did the right thing.”

“Then there was that stuff with the Zoni—”

“Ratchet,” Clank warned. It was a little awkward to glare at this odd angle, but he still managed somehow.

“I know, I know,” Ratchet said, putting one hand up in mock surrender. “I must’ve apologised a thousand times.”

“And continue to do so to this day, you really must stop.”

“Sorry, pal.”

Clank playfully elbowed Ratchet in the gut, to which he replied with a flick to the antenna. The robot couldn’t help but giggle, already feeling his frazzled nerves starting to calm down from their daring prison escape. Even more so when Ratchet started chuckling along.

“Besides,” Clank started, his laughs dying down to something a little more bittersweet. “I have also made my fair share of mistakes.”

“Oh yeah? Name one.” Ratchet challenged.

“Trusting Quark.”

“To be fair, you’d just been ‘born’, you were naïve.”

“The time portal on Zanifar?”

“C’mon, pal, you were trying to save your dad. I would’ve done the same thing.”

Clank could detect a hint of dejection in Ratchet’s tone, no matter how much his friend liked to think he was good at hiding his emotions. It made him a little more nervous at his next choice of words.

“This.”

“…What?”

Again, there it was. He was soft-spoken, like he knew exactly what Clank meant, but feigned ignorance, because he didn’t want to admit that the robot was right. He hated how good he was at reading his friend.

“This,” he reiterated, throwing up his one arm to gesture at the neon cracks in the sky that led to who knows where. “The dimensions collapsing. Us ending up here. Why, I am probably the reason that Nefarious even came out of retirement!”

If Clank could breathe, he probably would have been hyperventilating by now. He had tried to accept that it had just been a simple mistake; parading the Dimensionator in front of the entire galaxy and placing it right where it was ripe for the taking. Oh, how could he have been so irresponsible—

“Clank,” Ratchet prodded, and it was only then that the robot realised he had been trembling with self-loathing so much that he hadn’t noticed the hand that had been placed on his head in a bid to calm him down. “You know I don’t blame you for any of this, right?”

“Yes, well, I do,” he said, and he couldn’t help the acid that was laced in his voice.

A silence fell between them then, and not one that felt comfortable in the slightest.

“Actually, y’know what? I do too,” Ratchet finally piped up, removing his hand from Clank’s head, and when he turned to look up at him, the lombax held a frown that was usually reserved for the likes of Nefarious or some other dastardly villain. A sharp pain jabbed up through his circuitry along with guilt and shame, and a dash of dread.

“I mean, if it weren’t for you, we’d probably still be retired.”

“Yes…”

“We wouldn’t have met Rivet and Kit.”

“I…what?”

Ratchet’s frown slowly morphed into a gentle smile.

“And I wouldn’t have found the courage to finally go look for the other lombaxes.”

Clank wasn’t sure how to respond to that, all he could do was avert his gaze down to where Rivet and Kit were still talking. He noticed they seemed to be getting quite flustered with each other. An odd feeling suddenly fluttered in his chest as he watched them; one that he couldn’t quite place.

“That’s all down to you, buddy,” Ratchet said, squeezing Clank a little tighter against his chest.

“Then I am more than happy to take full responsibility,” he said, responding in kind. “Even with the added complication of two Nefariouses and the impending doom of a Dimensional Cataclysm.”

Ratchet waved a hand. “C’mon, we eat dimensional cataclysms for breakfast!” His ears drooped a little. “Or, at least, we used to.”

“You are still under the notion that we are ‘washed up’?”

“Not you. You’re the one fixing all the dimensional whatchamacallits—”

“Anomalies,” Clank corrected.

“Right. Meanwhile I’m…”

“Re-building Dimensionators, rescuing monks from undead bone creatures and searching for me,” the robot stated matter-of-factly as he counted with his fingers, before adding a despondent, “Again.”

“Yeah, I really gotta put a leash on you, pal.”

Clank tried to appear unamused but, in spite of his mild irritation, found himself smiling.

“My point is,” he continued. “Despite what you may think, you are an irreplaceable hero that any galaxy, dimension or even universe would be incredibly lucky to have.”

For once, Ratchet didn’t have a witty comeback, and merely blinked in surprise as Clank patted his hand.

“And an irreplaceable friend that I am incredibly lucky to have.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little flustered; the two of them were never really this outwardly sappy with each other, but after everything they’ve been through, perhaps they could make an exception just this once?

Even though Clank’s little speech sounded like it had been recited from some corny poem book that he would sometimes read as a guilty pleasure, Ratchet smiled fondly.

“Thanks, Clank.”

“Ugh…get a room…,” a voice mumbled behind them, startling the robot a little. He had forgotten that there was someone else on the ship. Turning to get a better look, he blinked and narrowed his optics a little.

“Is that…?”

“Yup,” Ratchet said with a wry grin, before adding, “Pretty weird, huh?”

“Not any more bizarre than anything else we have seen, I suppose,” Clank replied. “Though it does make me curious as to who else might have a dimensional counterpart. Ooh, we could make it a game!”

“So long as we don’t have to see Helga.”

“Ratchet…”

“What? It’s bad enough having a Qwark—”

“If you’d stopped to help me that night instead of running away, things could have been different. Or if you just told the truth, maybe—!”

Ratchet and Clank were stunned into silence at Rivet’s outburst, and shared a worried look as Kit retorted back.

“Why do none of you understand?! I am broken. I will always be broken!”

“Oh dear…” Clank mumbled, his brief time with The Fixer flashing across his mind. It seemed like the term ‘broken’ was becoming something of a theme recently.

Just like Ratchet, he desperately wanted to jump down and act as peacemaker between them, make them see that regardless of their differences, they could form a friendship that would stand the test of time and provide them with something precious that a life of solitude had robbed them of.

But he held his nerve and stayed put; this was a delicate situation, and not one that forced friendship could solve. So, he watched on sombrely.

“Fine. Go hide. We have a universe to save,” Rivet snapped, before throwing her hands up in frustration. “Universes. Whatever.”

The silver lombax turned and started walking back towards the ship.

“I don’t need a partner, anyway.”

There was a brief flutter of hope as Rivet slowed to a stop and turned her head slightly, as if she were reconsidering. Perhaps she would take his advice and give Kit another chance. Then they could all face down their enemies as one unified—

The robot flinched as her face twisted bitterly and she strode for the ship again; her choice had been made. He couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as she practically catapulted herself into the pilot’s seat and started the ship up, punching the buttons as if she were blaming them.

“Wait,” Ratchet started cautiously. “Where’s Kit?”

“She’s not coming,” Rivet bluntly replied, not even bothering to make eye contact with him.

“But…”

Clank felt Ratchet’s fingers unconsciously tighten against his body, and in turn, he laid his hand on top and patted it lightly to reassure him. Deep down, he truly believed they would reconcile eventually, even if they had to take their time to come to terms with their inner struggles. After all, Kit and Rivet were his and Ratchet’s dimensional counterparts.

Despite the universe’s sense of humour, it would always find a way to mend the broken.

 X

I’ve been a fan of this series since I was a kid and yet I’ve never written anything for it *shock horror*

Anyway, I know it’s a little short and sappy but hey, let me know what y’all think! Might write more in the future if my adhd lets me. :,)

[fang-wolfsbane]

Transformers Animated: Morning After: Chapter 20: Late Night Talks

Ever since Optimus’s revival, the bots had been rather on edge. They didn’t overly dote on their leader, but there was still something that felt rather off about the whole situation. From the sound of it, Autobots didn’t simply come back from the dead like that.

Back from the dead.

The mere thought sent a shudder up Tyla’s spine. When she had asked Highdrive for a better explanation, he had simply shrugged his shoulders and claimed that he didn’t know the reason himself. Not even Ratchet knew and he had known what the Allspark was the moment he laid eyes on it.

Given his age, she was almost certain of the fact that he knew better than any of them about what had happened, after all, the same had happened to Prowl not so long ago. Why they were trying to keep it a secret from her and Sari, she didn’t know, but that didn’t change the fact that it irritated her far more than they knew.

“If you keep holding the pillow like that, you’re gonna suffocate it.”

Tyla blinked out of her trance, looking to the red-haired girl sitting beside her, reminding her where she was. Inside the room of Sari Sumdac, daughter of Isaac Sumdac and heiress to the prestigious Sumdac Towers.

During one of the afternoons the two of them spent at the base, Sari had mentioned that she had never been to a sleepover, so to try and comfort her, Tyla had suggested that they hold one, which was why she was, as Sari put it, squeezing the life out of an innocent pillow in the girl’s bedroom.

“Ah, right. Sorry,�� Tyla apologised, fluffing the pillow back out, cringing at how it refused to return to its original form.

“Something on your mind?” Sari asked, watching as Tyla tried to soothe the pillow back out.

“Is it that obvious?” Tyla found herself asking, frowning at the pillow as if it was somehow at fault for refusing her touch. Not that she blamed it. She wouldn’t want to be touched by something that had hurt her, especially not when she didn’t deserve it.

“Kinda,” Sari admitted, omitting the fact that the pillow was proof of some sort of frustration. If she could have managed a smile, she would have cast Sari a grateful one. She only assumed the other girl already understood some of her reason as to why she wasn’t doing so.

“It’s just… the whole thing with Optimus. I mean, I still don’t even know what really happened and yet they’re all acting like it was normal. Hell, not even Bumblebee is freaked out about it anymore and you know how he gets.”

Sari nodded her understanding as she slid her arms out behind her to keep herself propped up. “Maybe it is normal for them.”

“To what? Just die and come back? I doubt it.”

“Yeah but look at what happened with Prowl.”

She hit the nail right on the head with that one. Just look at what happened to him. He was doomed to die until Sari’s key somehow magically brought him back as if she had used magic on him.

Of course she herself didn’t believe in the existence of it, but it made a lot more sense than simply accepting that both Prowl and Optimus had returned from the dead because a human girl stuck her key in their chests.

No matter how she looked at it, that big orange box that the Autobots had called the Allspark had a great deal to do with whatever was really going on. Even though she was convinced of her own theory, she was pretty certain that Ratchet would find some way to avoid the subject entirely. The bot wasn’t known for his chatty behaviour.

“Do you think it could work on humans?”

Tyla blinked once more. It didn’t take much to figure out that Sari was talking about the key, what with her fingers playing with it as if it were a mere trinket.

“Do you mean like simply heal or bring people back from the dead?”

Sari didn’t answer her. Tyla didn’t know much about the Sumdac family, but from what she could recall, she had never heard Sari so much as mentioned a mother or second parental figure besides the professor. Thinking on it now, Tyla was curious enough to ask the other girl about it, but the pure sadness in her eyes made it hard to, so she didn’t, simply trusting her to tell her on her own time when she felt ready to do so.

Tyla pulled up her shoulders, trying to seem as casual about the question as she possibly could. “Who knows? We’re not exactly made of circuits and gears.”

Sari’s eyes trembled lightly as she focused her gaze on the floor beneath them. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Tyla silently cursed herself. Here she had been hoping to cheer Sari up when all she really did was upset her further. Looking around the room some, she sought something to distract them with.

“Hey, what’s your score like?”

This time it was Sari’s turn to blink as she looked up at the older girl in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Tyla flashed her a smile. “You know, your score in that game you and Bumblebee usually play.”

That brought a smile to the younger girl’s face. “I’m in the lead so far. Why?”

“You mind teaching me how to play?”

“Hm, that depends. What do I get when I win?”

“Oh, when you win? My, cocky aren’t we?” Tyla playfully nudged her arm before she gave it some thought. “How about extra fries when I’m on duty. No extra charge.”

Sari’s smile widened. “Okay.”

“But if I win, then I want…” Tyla’s eyes scanned the room once more for something of equal value. With everything in the room being far out of her own price range to keep maintained, she settled for something that could work out for the same amount as the extra fries over the span of a couple of years. “The first choice on whatever new music device your dad brings out.”

Thinking it through, Sari nodded her consent, holding her hand out. “Deal.”

With a firm, competitive handshake, they each picked up a controller and got to work on competing against each other in the racing game, playing through the large TV in the room.

Transformers Animated, Optimus Prime, Autobots, Ratchet, Allspark, Prowl, Sari Sumdac, Isaac Sumdac and Bumblebee © Hasbro Morning After, Tyla and Highdrive © Fang Wolfsbane

[olivia200312]

My Hero~ Ratchet x Shy! Human! Reader *Request*

Requested by the lovely Courtney the Butterfly Girl Courtney57658 on Quotev.

"I've actually got one request for the Ratchet and Clank one-shots. The reader is human and incredibly shy, she and Ratchet become close overtime (along with Clank, but they're just best friends and nothing more), but gets captured by Dr. Nefarious, and Ratchet has to get her back. No torturing or anything like that. Just angst and fluff. Hope this isn't too much to read. 😄😊 "

Note: the pic does not belong to me! It goes to the owner!

---------------------------------------

It's a hot day in planet Veldin. This planet isn't known as the hottest planet in Solona Galaxy. Gasper was the hottest planet. It was a normal day in Veldin. There was a garage where the heroes lived. Yes, heroes. The heroes were a kind Lombax, a smart small robot and a very shy human. Yes, even a very shy human. A cute one in fact. The Lombax was called Ratchet and he had a pal called Clank. He found him after he crashed here at night. Clank escaped just in time from the factory before he got destroyed by Victor. Clank explained that he was in Veldin to warn The Galactic Rangers from Drek's army. Ratchet gladly helped. Not only him, but also Ratchet's best friend (and crush) called Y/N. She was 18 just like Ratchet was.

Y/N was found as a toddler close to Ratchet's garage. He was a toddler too at the time. Y/N was completely lost there with absolutely no info or history. Well, there was only one info found. Y/N had a letter that said 'Take care of her. Make sure she doesn't get kidnapped by Dr. Nefarious.'

Once Ratchet's adopted dad, Grimroth or Grim for short, found Y/N and read the letter, he took her in. He was confused why the evil doctor wanted her. Was that how Y/N's parents died or were they alive somewhere? No one knew.

When Grim took Y/N in, she was so shy and scared that she would hide behind Grim all the time. Grim understood of course Y/N. She had a very hard time accepting that her parents were dead or maybe alive somewhere, but they'll never return. Also Y/N was a human while people around were not.

When Y/N met Ratchet, she was scared. Ratchet was very kind and friendly to her. He was confused what she was once he met her, but then Grim explained. Even Y/N was a human, Ratchet finds her very cute or key word: adorable. Once Y/N warmed up to Ratchet, she finds him adorable. He looks a bit like a cat. Heck, he can even purr! Ratchet would let her touch his fur and ears. He would touch her hair and play with it.

That was years ago. The toddlers were now very young adults. Y/N helped Ratchet to become a Ranger. Clank became one as well. Sadly, Y/N wasn't comforable to fight against the bad guys. But sometimes, she would help them by working with Elaris. Ratchet and Clank worked together a lot when they're off. The Rangers loved having Y/N around. The shy human girl wasn't comforable at the beginning, but she warmed up to them. Qwark would be a creep and stalk that it scare Y/N badly. She would go to Ratchet for comfort. The Lombax was angry at Qwark for scaring his crush.

Right now, Y/N was taking a walk around Veldin outside. She was close by the garage. She was wearing shorts and a F/C tank top since it's a sunny day like always. Good that at least it can rain too in Veldin.

Ratchet was busy in the garage with who knows what. Clank was just reading.

Y/N was enjoying the walk, until a big shadow of a ship form hovered above Y/N and a claw appeared! Y/N looked behind her just in time to see it was Dr. Nefarious!

He controlled his claw machine and grabbed Y/N, causing her to gasp in shock. "Now, I got you, Y/N."

Y/N then screamed so loud in terror that Ratchet heard it. He dropped his wrench and ran towards the sound. Clank ran after him. The boys stopped once they saw Y/N.

"Let her go, Nefarious!" Ratchet said in anger.

"How about no?" Nefarious said with a evil smirk.

"H-Help!" Y/N shouted, feeling very scared that she even cried.

Then Nefarious flew off with crying and scared Y/N. Ratchet tried to free her by threwing his OmniWrench at Nefarious' claw, but it didn't work! His OmniWrench was like a boomerang that would come back to the owner if you threw it in a correct way. Good that Ratchet was skilled.

"Y/N! No!" Ratchet shouted, watching Nefarious flying away with crying Y/N.

Clank then walked up to Ratchet and placed his metalic hand on his shoulder. "Ratchet, we must take action now. I have a feeling that Nefarious will do bad things to Y/N."

Ratchet put on a serious face. "Let's go."

At Dr. Nefarious' Lab~

"L-Let me go!" Y/N cried while trying to get herself free from the chains. She was chained up against the cold metalic wall. She was not naked. Thank god.

"Oh, Y/N. I've been waiting all these years to kidnap you," Nefarious said while walking up to Y/N with his arms behind his back.

"W-What are you t-talking about?" Y/N still continued to struggle.

Nefarious pulled a evil smirk on his face. "I know your parents."

Y/N stopped struggling. That caught her attention. She was asking for a long time what happened to her parents. Where were they? Were they ok? Were they alive? "W-What?"

"I know your parents ever since you came into the world. And do you know where?" Nefarious asked with a evil smirk. He then leaned closer, causing Y/N to feel nervous and scared

"N-No."

"Here. In my lab!"

Y/N was shocked by the response. How in Qwark's name did Nefarious knew her parents! So for all these years, Nefarious knew the asnwer?!

"Your parents were patetic humans and your mother gave birth to you! Once you were a toddler, your parents sacrificed their lives to save you! I killed them and I was looking for you to finish my experiment!"

"W-What experiment?" Y/N was having a panic attack.

"To see if I can turn a human into a robot. In fact, I'll start now!" He then pulled out a needle that had a weird disgusting green serum in it.

"No!" Y/N screamed loud again, hoping that someone will come to the rescue. She doesn't want to get turned into a robot! It would be a painful experience!

Nefarious was about to inject Y/N, until... there was a explosion! Someone was here!

"Y/N!"

"Ratchet! Clank!"

Clank ran to the controlling room to free Y/N from the chains, while Ratchet fought against Nefarious. Y/N could only watch with hope if Ratchet would win. Nefarious caused problems all these years ever since he left Galactic Rangers. Yes, you heard it. He was once a member there. He was the expert of creating weapons and gadgets. But the whole team teased and bullied him, especially Qwark. The doctor that was once a kind and smart one, became crazy and insane that he became evil, wanting to take revenge.

Ratchet managed to push Nefarious off, causing the insane doctor to scream, but his flying ship rescued him and took him away, leaving the heroes there. Ratchet sighed in relief and Clank managed to turn off the chains.

Y/N fell on her knees on the cold metalic floor. She was shaking.

"Y/N..." Ratchet said and he walked over to her fast and got on his knees. He then pulled Y/N into his warm and lovely hug, causing Y/N to relax and hug him back.

Y/N whimpered as she hold into Ratchet for dear life.

"Shhhh. It's ok." Ratchet stroked her hair.

Clank stood next to Ratchet with a soft smile. He was glad to see his best friends ok.

At Veldin~

It's been a week now after Ratchet rescued Y/N. She's a lot calmer now. She noticed how Ratchet became very overprotective of her that he wouldn't leave her side. Y/N would blush everytime when Ratchet wrapped his furry arms around her, protecting her from anything. She would nuzzle up to him.

Right now at was nigth and Y/N was watching stars just outside the garage. She was wearing short nigth clothes since it's chill temperature. The temperature was around 20°C so better be in these clothes instead with long sleeves.

Y/N was enjoying it, until she heard footsteps. She looked over her shoulder and saw Ratchet. He was only wearing boxes. He was a Lombax and was a male (+ an adult) which it means that he can sleep shirtless.

"Hey, Y/N. What are you doing outside?" Ratchet asked and sat down next to her. Close.

"N-Nothing, Fuzzball. Just e-enjoying the stars." She felt shy.

Ratchet chuckled and hooks his fingers under her chin to make her look at him. She was blushing madly. "You know, you're very adorable when you're shy."

"H-Hey! I'm a-always shy," Y/N pouts cutely.

Ratchet smiled kindly and gently kissed her, causing Y/N's heart to beat fast. She then kissed him back. She was waiting for this for her whole life!

Then a minute later, they pulled away. Ratchet pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you so much, my shy girl."

"I love you too, Fuzzball." She didn't even stuttered.

I hope you enjoyed this first one shot! :)

The Reader will be a human or a Lombax. It's up to you. The requests will be accepted with plots.

[amosbrittany]

Shattered Chapter 5

I swear I did not entirely die on this. lol Have up to chapter 9 done, shit just happened and video games are most distracting.

Disclaimer : I don’t own Transformers Animated or any characters for that matter.

Notes  : I haven’t done fanfiction, let alone TF based, in ages. And never for  TFA, So I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing but what the hell,  I’m going for it. lol I took quite a few liberties, pulling bits from  various continuities to build this sucker.

Warnings : I have a  tendency to put characters through hell. A bit of Bumblebee/Blitzwing  this chapter. Eventual Optimus/Sentinel, Megatron/Ultra Magnus,  Jazz/Prowl and Ratchet/Pharma.

Summary : The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but Sentinel’s latest stunt might just kill them all…or worse.

The day Ultra Magnus decided to make his way to Trypticon, his chosen agents had set neatly hidden explosives all over Iacon's warp drives over the past few solar cycles as they worked from the shadows silently and swiftly. Fortress Maximus and Metroplex, as well as Omega Surpreme and the Steelhaven, had been prime targets. The only significant structure on the planet at the time capable of transwarping would be Trypticon. A few cycles after he relocated the prison, while they were scrambling to figure out what happened and retaliate, the Nexus would be taken down. It would give him a decent head start as the Autobots tried to make heads or tails of the chaos when their edge of the war was lost. By the time any wayward ships abroad came home to lead a pursuit, he would have a decent lead.

He walked down the long strip of road leading to the ominous prison in Kaon, muttering curses under his breath as it seemed his transformation cog no longer functioned. It made the trip longer than he liked and he had to adjust given the delays the defect caused, as it wasn't simply isolated to himself. Ultra Magnus already had his agents in place, lying in wait within the prison walls to take out the guards there. When he relocated the prison, he would make a deal with the Decepticons. Granted, he knew better than to trust them, but Megatron's head would prove a fine bargaining chip and outing their traitor, a show of good faith.

He had made sure the guards were prepared for his arrival, to accelerate the whole process. They quickly ushered him in once he reached the entrance and he proceeded to make a beeline for the control hub of the city-like compound. He found the warden waiting for him. "Ultra Magnus, always so good to-Uh...huh." Springer had started to greet him, hand extended before he visibly balked at his appearance. The green Autobot cleared his vocalizer apologetically then grimaced. "You...look different."

"Yes, so I'm told." The Magnus scoffed, rolling his optics. His gaze swept hungrily over the control room. "How is Trypticon's transwarp system?"

"The transwarp system? Everything is running just fine, sir." The question was oddly specific and that caused Springer to squint with suspicion. "Is...that why you wanted to visit, sir? To check on the systems? Cause that sounds like a comm-link sort of thing to me..."

"Oh, I have other reasons." He glanced at the clock, watching the time intently.

The warden gave him a quizzical look, following his gaze. "You waiting for something...?"

"Indeed I am."

~+~

Optimus rubbed his face plates. He had some newfound respect for Sentinel concerning this position at least. With Ultra Magnus being unusually difficult and flighty, it had been a lot of work to keep up with. With the capture of the Decepticons and their leader, things had to be shifted around, changes made, plans formulated. He had to oversee the construction of a prominent outpost on Earth, re-order teams, and assist the Council in as many matters as he could. Ultra Magnus and the Fringes debacle had not helped in the slightest.

Alpha Trion had accepted the agreement with Blitzwing and after going over the rosters, it was decided that Bumblebee would head operations for Autobot City on Earth with his own team consisting of the reformed Decepticon, Ironhide, Bulkhead, and Ratchet. At first he had wanted to keep the old medic close, but they had talked it over and he understood his friend's concerns. Ultimately, Pharma would become his own crew's medic. Earth, Ratchet worried, might prove something of a sensory overload for his already delicate processor and he preferred the idea of a leader who had a better track of patience than Bumblebee. Besides, two mechs with several screws loose on one team was just begging for trouble.

The yellow minibot was excited to get the assignment underway and had taken off for Kaon with the necessary documentation files to pick up their new 'Autobot' and get him up to speed. They still had a few solar cycles before they set off for Earth on the Ark, but he was sure Blitzwing could use some repairs and upgrades after his lengthy prison stay. His paint certainly could use a major touch up. As for his badge, it would likely take some time and convincing to get him to wear it just yet.

It had been tempting to go with Bumblebee, if only to see if he couldn't convince Springer to let him see Sentinel and maybe even see what Ultra Magnus was really up to over there. He imagined the Magnus staring down Megatron's disembodied head and having a little chat with him. Oh, to be a nanofly on the wall for that one. But besides that, he was concerned, mostly for Sentinel should Ultra Magnus decide to pay him a visit. He sighed wistfully, taking a moment to relax before his office doors flew open and Jazz rushed in on him. Optimus twitched, sitting up straight when he saw how agitated the other was. "Jazz, is everything okay...?"

"Pit nah, it ain't okay! Prowl's body is MIA!"

The claim sent him reeling for a klik and Optimus had to shake his head to get the sudden daze to clear. "I'm-Sorry, what? What do you mean by that?" A chilling feeling crawled up his back struts as he recalled Ultra Magnus's presence in the mausoleum a few solar cycles ago. Surely he hadn't done something nefarious...But with the way he'd been acting...Optimus pursed his lips as he opened his desk screen and began hunting through the various channels to find anything on the security for the tomb.

"You look like ya got somethin' in mind, bossbot." Jazz rounded the desk to watch over his shoulder. The cyber ninja often visited their fallen comrade's place of rest. It was a habit that caused Optimus some concern due to how often he did it, it made him wonder about the pair, but now he was almost grateful for it.

"...Ultra Magnus was at the mausoleum a few solar cycles ago. I had a bad feeling about it, but I didn't think much of it. I mean what could he possibly do in there...Here, I think this was it." Finding the backlogged security footage, he narrowed it down to the day and time. As they watched, Jazz let out a strangled noise of horror and Optimus offlined his optics. He felt like he'd just been run through the chassis as the scene played out, Ultra Magnus tossing their friend from his resting place and dragging him off like a sack of parts. Although part of him absolutely hated to press on, he forced himself to find the other footage, which led them to where Magnus had gathered several others...

And proceeded to do exactly what Sentinel had done to him, to the dead Autobots before him.

Blitzwing's words came back to him. "Cyclonus alvays zaid it came from zhe 'heart of darkness und zhe root of all evil'." The stuff was a scourge not even the Decepticons would touch. They knew it did this, Oil Slick had told Sentinel as much, but this was the terrible detail the mad scientist had omitted. It could spread like a terrible cancer. Bumblebee had said Blitzwing warned him that the Decepticons had hoped this would cause them enough of a distraction that their 'reformed comrade' would be able to find a way to release them. This was the whole dirty plan to begin with.

As the resurrected Autobots disappeared off the screen, the main question he had now was WHY...Why do that? What was the purpose? Why...

Why was he at Trypticon?

"...He's going to do something at Trypticon."

Jazz recovered from his horror only slightly. "You don't think he'd set the Decepticons loose..."

"I don't know, but I'm going to treat it like that's the plan." Optimus opened his comm-link, reaching out to Springer. <Springer, I need you to get Ultra Magnus out of there. By any means necessary. His accomplices might be there as well! Lock down the prison!>

~+~

That was a hell of a task. And what accomplices was he referring to? Ultra Magnus had come alone.

Back in Kaon, Springer's optics widened slightly when he received the call and now he had a tall order to fill. There was an alarming edge to Optimus's voice. 'I knew there was something fishy about this.' He thought to himself as he turned to Ultra Magnus and stalled, staring back at his violet gaze.

"I take it Optimus told you to get rid of me." The Magnus calmly assessed. The green Autobot froze, mouth failing to work properly. Ultra Magnus smirked smugly. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I don't normally toot my own horn, but I like to think I am an excellent strategist. I knew if anyone got a clue before the big bang, that it would be him. But I'm afraid my pieces are already in place. And there is nothing you're going to be able to do about it."

"Big bang? What big bang?" Springer demanded.

"Mmm, the biggest..."

Drawing his sword, the warden took a step towards him only to stop when cries and the sounds of battle erupted in the central command hub where they were. Magnus's agents struck out from the shadows, the initial targets of the attack going down quickly and violently. While he was distracted, Ultra Magnus swung his hammer, catching Springer upside his helm and rendering him unconscious. He accessed his comm-link as he sauntered over to the controls for the transwarp, letting his agents scurry out to incapacitate or kill any guards in their way. <Oh Optimus, that was almost well timed...Almost.>

<Magnus. What the hell did you do? Where's Prowl?!>

<Helping me seize the prison. But you already knew that, why ask such a banal question?>

<Why the damn prison?! What the slag are you doing??>

As he let Optimus stew in silence, wracking his processor to make heads and tails of his scheme, he picked the coordinates for a location on Earth from his data banks and proceeded to enter them into Tyrpticon's destination as the transwarp drive began to power up.

~+~

"But if you go to Earth then I won't see you again...And I feel we have much to discuss." Really, there was much for Pharma to get off his chassis. For stellar cycles, he was always too damned proud to just come out and say what he felt, he had always waited for Ratchet to say something. But it was becoming painfully clear that the older medic was insufferably oblivious. He was also spending a great deal of time with that teacher and he didn't know what was going on there. He hated it.

"Well it was either you or me, and we both know you woulda hated workin' with a reformed Con. Besides, I wanna see Sari again and being on Optimus's team means regular trips back and forth so it ain't like ya won't see this old rustbucket. Just try not to give the kid too much trouble."

Pharma started to grin with delight at the idea of regular visits for himself while Arcee was glued to her classroom, but it faded quickly when there was a commotion on Ratchet's end of the line and something violently exploded, knocking the other medic out of sight and killing the connection instantly. "Wh-? Ratchet?" The jet held his hands up, flabbergasted. "What just happened? Ratch-!"

The sound of something falling over made Pharma jump and twist around, met with the sight of a walking corpse crouching on a medical berth. It was Dodger, but he had died some time ago so how was he there now? Pharma let out a small squeak, backing around the console he was using. The dead bot was spattered with energon and brandished a pair of soaked blades he flicked menacingly. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no-! Not today, Mortilus!" Pharma cried, breaking into a run with the assassin hot on his heel struts.

An idea struck him at the last nanoklik and he threw himself into a quarantine chamber, slamming the door shut behind him and engaging the lock. He didn't care to be locked up in a quarantine cell again, but it beat being murdered. The bloodied blade slashed against the thick glass but after several attempts, the other stopped. His plates shivered fearfully as the corpse settled for staring him down through the door, as if it waited long enough, it would have him. "What in the Pit is happening...?"

~+~

"Vhat in zhe pit iz going on..." But a few cycles ago, Springer had told him approval for his pardon was underway and Bumblebee would be there shortly to collect him. He had tittered with glee, ready to put the mines and the prison behind him. Now however, the air was alive with battle and screaming Autobots. Energon was everywhere. A familiar and terrible sight had descended on the guards. Undead Autobots, the only color on their frames the insidious violet flow of Dark Energon. It was Karn all over again, just on a minuscule scale. "Oh Primus, Oil Slick...vhat did you do..."

"Scrap." Said scientist muttered. His gambit had backfired in the worst possible way.

"Oh great! Fan-fragging-tastic! Way to go, you-you-you...goop head!" Drag Strip screamed from her cell.

"Goop head, niiiiice one."

Lugnut rumbled, pleased with the wanton Autobot slaughter taking place around them. His only regret was that he wasn't taking part in it. He banged his arm against the cell wall he shared with Blitzwing. "At least you will not have to go along with the sham of pretending to be an accursed Autobot and you can die A PROUD DECEPTICON SOLDIER IN GLORIOUS AND VIOLENT BATTLE!"

Blitzwing sighed, regretting he would not see Bumblebee again as he turned from the bloody scenery beyond his cell. "I vould razher not die period..." He muttered to himself, crossing his arms petulantly.

~+~

"What in the Pit is happening?!" Since Ultra Magnus decided to let his surprise answer for itself, Optimus was trying to get a handle on the situation. But when Metroplex shook from several explosions, he was finding himself at a loss. Other, more distant explosions could be heard and reports were flying in that Fortress Maximus and several ships including the Steelhaven had been hit. He knew they were merely distractions, but he still wasn't certain for what. He was still trying to work out the why.

"Optimus, what is going on?" Alpha Trion hurried over to him with several other council members.

"Sir, it seems Ultra Magnus has launched some kind of attack here in Iacon and we've lost contact with the staff at Trypticon. We just found evidence that he used the shards from himself to resurrect other Autobots as well."

The old mech's face plates crinkled in thought. "...What has been struck here?"

"Seems like it was the...transwarp engine rooms. That's where folks are narrowin' down the origination of the explosions." Jazz supplied.

"The-" Alpha Trion stiffened as it struck him. "He's stealing Trypticon and preventing us from pursuit."

"But WHY?? That's what I can't wrap my helm around!" Optimus's servos flew up to grab his helm. What in the name of Cybertron was the Magnus doing? As Alpha Trion tried to reroute any and all warships to Tyrpticon for a full blown assault, the Prime tried to get his focus back. "And how long will it take for him to actually do that?"

"The quantum engines will need but twenty cycles to jump the entirety of the prison wherever it is he plans to go. Much less if he plans to take only part of it. And if he is freeing the Decepticons, it will most likely be to a place like New Kaon or Charr."

Jazz shook his head. "Not gonna get much there in time to take the prison down, sir. Not unless we kick on the Nexus and if Magnus rigged the fortresses and ships-"

"Then we will use only one tower while the trackers seek out the other explosives..."

~+~

Ultra Magnus watched the quantum engines power, waiting for when it looked like the core of the prison would be good to go. No doubt Alpha Trion was expecting him to take the whole kit and kaboodle, but all he needed was the heart of the beast. That was where all the essentials were. He idly peeled away his Autobot badge as he continued to observe the engines's progress.  There was little point to wearing it now...

He wasn't much of an Autobot. Not anymore.

"Report." He ordered.

Flanking him, his Terrorcons bowed in compliance. Prowl answered him. "All of the guards, civilians and workers that ran or fought have been slain. Along with the warden, we have detained three guards, two civilians, and five workers. The only surviving medic, Pharma, has locked himself in one of the quarantine units. We cannot get him out without specific codes, and he cannot get himself out."

"We'll remove him shortly then." The codes were not an issue, as Magnus he had access to everything, and the medical bay was a part of the core he intended to take. It was fortunate they had Pharma of all medics. He could easily be scared into doing as he was told. Ratchet wasn't around to embolden him. "Dispose of Scalpel. I don't need that little crab scuttling off where I cannot find him and I especially don't need that being the case and he puts Megatron back together before I am ready to deal with him."

"Of course, master." The cyber ninja disappeared to deal with the Decepticon in question.

The main screen of the central command hub pinged. He smiled eerily. "Someone is trying to make a house call. Delightful." He leaned back languidly in his chair, enabling the screen. As expected, Alpha Trion's ancient visage greeted him. He couldn't see Optimus, he was most likely out on the field, trying to handle the chaos, save the injured and assess the damage. "Oh...Where is the SIC? Attending to Ratchet, I suppose...I did leave a nasty little something on Omega Supreme in particular. Can't have that beast come after us, after all..."

"Ultra Magnus. I do not know why you are out to free the Decepticons, but I-"

"Hm? Oh, no. That has nothing to do with this at all actually. Before I'm done, they'll be offline, I assure you." Ultra Magnus waved his hand dismissively. "Particularly Blitzwing, I've no doubt. When I tell the others about his little plans, I'll let them rip him apart."

The way the old mech's face plate crinkled, indicating that he had been thrown off and confused, was quite nice. He always enjoyed that look on his face. But the old mech pressed forward, speaking to him as if he were addressing a wayward son, a troubled youth. His tone was almost pleading and weary, as if his answer would fill him with understanding. But they both knew it would only be more questions, more confusion. "Then why, Magnus...Why are you doing this?"

"In the end, Alpha, death claims us all. But this? This was not how it was supposed to be. Not for me. I was but a step from the Well of Allsparks, and now...It's forever denied me." Magnus lifted his hand, staring at it. The proto-flesh of his form was slowly deteriorating, becoming emaciated. What had once been thick, strong digits, were becoming thinning claws. He had no idea if he had a time limit on what his body could endure of the Dark Energon, but he wasn't inclined to find out. He pushed up from his seat, discreetly glancing at the console screen. The time was now. "I am going to have this remedied. I will not suffer for eternity for the selfish and foolish actions of a swine in search of his glory. And if I have to take everyone and everything down with me to save myself from oblivion, I will. I’ll gladly take my stay in the Pit for it all if I have to. If you want someone to blame, feel free to blame Sentinel...although I promise that while I do my work, I will ensure he is properly punished. Good bye, Alpha Trion."

Punctuating his grim words, Ultra Magnus reached down and threw the switch, teleporting Trypticon's main body away to Earth.

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 17

and we’re back!

phew I had to take a hiatus to work on other projects but now that those are done I'm baaaack

god I'm SO fucking excited for this arc, I fucking love it 

OH NO TAILGATE...I almost forgot...this poor little dude

REMAIN IN LIGHT BABEYYYYY!!! I fucking love that title, talking heads is probably my favorite band Ever, and that album is one of my favorites, so when I first saw it here I was super excited lol. it’s such a good title, both for the album and for this arc

tailgate goes right to cyclonus ;_; hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

also...I just love the way milne draws cyclonus, he’s the perfect mix of terrifying and handsome, and also goth

ohhhhh I forgot about the framing device used here, with rodimus in jail later on in this arc, narrating retrospectively 

cybercrosis, add that to this list of amusing robo-puns, as a play on (I'm assuming) necrosis, aka tissue death

oof, ratchet saying that tailgate ‘lived a full life,’ which is fucking brutal because we as the readers know that isn't true :( 

tg is right tho, it seems v uncommon for tfs to die of old age. that's some shit luck right there, espec bc tg is basically a baby who was asleep for 6 million years 

ratchet talking abt pharma and looking at his hands...I See That

ratchets bedside manner leaves a bit to be desired hvbhjdsubfjsd jesus dude

and then there's cyclonus, whos also pretty terrible at being tactful

AUGHHHH and then cyclonus, like the emotionally repressed icon he is, goes and claws his own face up in grief rather than express any emotion to tailgate :( I'm in physical pain thanks

rodimus is like, wait...informing my crew about my actions? lmao? uhh what quest...oh yeah we’re on a quest. yeaaaah whatever man

the portal helllllll yessssssss

poor tg drinking away his impending death

oh man, chromedomes weird fucked up skeleton arm

rodimus hhvbhjaudsfbjaskdf he’s like yeahhhh I'm not even gonna pretend to indulge in democracy, we are GOING thru that giant ass space portal whether you fools like it or not

AND THERES THE MFING MOON BABEYYYY!

luna 1!!!!!! they found the missing moon BY ACCIDENT, fucking iconic 

still cant believe rodimus’s office is HOT PINK with a FLAME DECAL around the door. unreal

awww I love percy 

rodimus, in a shocking show of maturity, admits that rung was correct to be harsh with him about the whole overlord thing 

the squad gettin together ayyyy

rodimus reminding us all that this ISNT just a party ship full of frat boys, people have DIED

when you see tg and realize that that was cyclonus’s request ;_; 

aughhh and cyc saying ‘never hope. hope is a lie.’ that kills me man aughhhh

like, cyclonus clearly doesn't want to deal with the emotions he’s feeling over tg dying so he’s trying to make sure that tg accepts death and doesn't hope for a cure, bc that would hurt cyclonus MORE, and he’s already unused to all these ‘emotions’ n shit

I'm sorry but the MARBs just look so fuckin dorky bvhjakbdfhsf beep beep here comes the dweeb squad!!! lmaoooo

cd being like ‘can’t we just drive’ and perceptor is right there like :| LMAOOOO 

also I love cd saying ‘sometimes I wonder why we even have alt modes’ bc I feel like that's such a witty dig at the fact that in this series about robots that transform into cars, we rarely get to seem them actually DO that

its especially interesting when you consider how important functionism is in this story - alt modes are super important in that context, but we still rarely get to see them. hell, we literally NEVER saw megatrons alt mode, which is still crazy to me

ohhhh man I love that panel where the whole moon lights up, that's just amazing

congratulations, rodimus! it’s....a shitton of babies!

also broooo I ufcking love the fact that you barely even notice that rung ALSO hopped down onto the moon at the same time as rodimus...brilliant

god now I need to go find that ‘am i pragnent?’ video lmaooo

why....why did you have to use the word ‘fertilized,’ jro. why....

cold construction lore time!

do I wanna do my big biology speech here? I'm trying to figure out where it would go best...I think ill save it for later in this arc

god I fucking love brainstorm. his entire little speech about how he ‘went to marches’ for cold construction rights and whatnot is so funny with the added context that he’s an MTO and wasn't even around for that

skids, don't just sit in the spooky oil reservoir, alone, after you just went thru a mysterious portal, you should be more genre savvy than that 

what am I saying, this is the guy who wants his memories back even though he’s been told multiple times that it’ll probably traumatize him to death

brainstorm with the 0.1%er spark [eyes emoji]

I love percy just being horrified at the lack of proper scientific conduct from brainstorm like, all the time

I see the cons have their own edgy, weaponed-up version of the MARBs

MINIMUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love him aughhh I'm so excited for the stuff w/him this arc

also I totally forgot that you’re supposed to see him introduce himself as ‘ambus’ and be like whoa wait is that dominus????? or someone adjacent to him????

skids vs legislators: part 2!

P H A R M A

DR THOT HIMSELF.....back and immediately making a hand pun, with his chainsaw arm displayed in full glory....amazing

cant believe jro named this one ‘the fecund moon,’ which forced me to google what ‘fecund’ means, which led me to go ‘oh good lord jro WHY’ lmao 

I do love that we don't see the ‘part 1 of 5′ til the end - that's a great small reveal that hey, we’re in an arc now!

so there's the end of issue one of remain in light! aughh, I'm so fucking excited for this arc. my first two readthrus this was one of my favorite arcs (my other fav being the time travel arc), and I'm excited to see if its still at the top for me 

I feel like the first time I read thru I like this arc a lot cause I actually understood most of it hbvhadjkfbaksjf unlike all the previous stuff, where I was a bit more confused - at this point I at least had a decent grasp on the characters and relationships, so that helped a lot

also apparently one of the songs of this issue is ‘heaven’ by talking heads which AUghhH that song makes me wanna float in the ocean and look at the stars. idk. also I find it a little ironic that that song isn't off the album remain in light lol

either way I love this issue, strong start to the arc with lots of intrigue and worldbuilding, and clearly some incoming status quo changes...cant wait!!

[jessi-writes-fandoms]

A new beginning: An OC story

Chapter 5

Remedy reached the medical bay and was greeted by Ratchet, “I take it you had an eventful evening last night?” She didn’t respond, her processor was fuzzy with the thoughts of what Nightshade had said about Drift. She couldn’t think straight her helm was aching and she wanted to scream. Ratchet noticed this and gently shook her shoulder plating. “Remedy! Remedy can you hear me?” She finally returned to reality, looking around at her surroundings remembering where she was. She turned to look at Ratchet who had a worried look on his face. “W-what? What happened? Ratchet when did I get here?” Remedy was so confused, not even remembering walking into the medbay. “Remedy why don’t you sit down so I can run a quick diagnostic scan on you, you’re not yourself.” Remedy nodded and sat on the nearest medical berth, allowing Ratchet to run a simple scan on her. “Everything seems fine. Did something happen last night, Did Drift hurt you?” Remedy put her servos up in defense. “No of course not! But While we’re talking about him, I gotta ask. Was he a decepticon?”

Ratchet heaved a heavy sigh and gave Remedy a serious look. “Yes. Drift was once called Deadlock, he was a viscous fighter and a killer. He wasn’t all bad Remedy, he had it rough and I saved his life.” After hearing the whole story, Remedy was absolutely stunned and could barely process what she had just heard. Knowing that her lover went through an addiction and later became this evil decepticon, made her processor go all over the place. Thoughts of Drift possibly hurting her or others flooded her processor, causing her to faint. Ratchet began to panic and started shouting her name.

Nightshade was in Rung’s office for her scheduled session, she had been a bit more fidgety lately and needed to talk to someone. “Maybe I’m just stressed about Remedy, I mean she’s dating Drift and I’ve heard about his past and I’m worried about her. She’s too damn stubborn to realize that.” Rung nodded while typing on his datapad. “I hate to pry into your more personal life but, are you dating anyone? Have you thought maybe you’re jealous that Remedy has found someone else to spend time with?” Nightshade’s face turned a tint of blue and she looked a bit offended, sure she had been lonely since Remedy started hanging out with Drift but she wasn’t jealous.

“Remedy is my amica endura, we been best friends since we met. I’m happy that she found someone, I just hope this relationship actually works for her.” Nightshade sighed as she remembered all the rebel Cybertronians they had met on their journey, Remedy had dated some of them over time but the relationships were usually cut short due to different reasons. Nightshade hated to see her fall in love only to get hurt. “Have you thought of finding a potential sparkmate, Nightshade?” Nightshade’s optics went wide and she sat up suddenly. There was someone on her mind, someone she had developed feelings for the first moment she had laid eyes on them. Rung raised an optic ridge at the large seeker suspiciously. “There is someone isn’t there? Someone you wish to be with, someone you have very strong feelings for.” Nightshade had an obvious blush appear across her faceplates, the thought of the one she had fallen for so hard made her spark burn. “I wanna tell him how I feel but he would never notice me.”

Rung looked at the large femme with a questioning look on his face. “Who is this mech you have such deep feelings for? I promise what you tell me will kept between us. Anything you say to me never leaves this room.” Nightshade put her hands over her face thinking about wether or not she should continue talking about this or not. Part of her wanted to get this secret off her chassis but another part of her was telling her these feelings are stupid and should be forgotten entirely.

“I can’t say who it is. He would never accept me, he looks right through me. He flirts with Remedy, who could blame him she’s gorgeous and she’s not afraid of anything!” Rung was shocked by her words, he understood her pain and gave a heavy sigh. “Nightshade, I feel that I know exactly who you’re talking about. But please know that you are not in Remedy’s shadow, you are not as social as she is and you have a logical reason for it. Do not feel the need to shame yourself just because you’re not social.” Nightshade gave a weak smile and thanked Rung for his kind words, after another twenty five minutes the session ended and Nightshade was dismissed from Rung’s Office.

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 9 Part 1

A Play-Date with Megatron Part 1

A/N – Based on a lot of head-canons from @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron so extra special thanks to them for that. Fun fact, Lepoteran is a word I made up based off Lepidoptera which is the scientific name for a moth.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Swerve watched as you paced the bar, speaking excitedly of the planet Hacathar which you would all soon visit. He loved seeing you like this, as did most of the crew. By now, quite the crowd had gathered to hear what you wanted to see upon visiting.

“I wonder what kind of people live there,” You beamed.

“It’s a space-port,” Nightbeat answered, happy to show off his knowledge. “Ships from all over the galaxy refuel in the port while the planet itself is for people to get a break from ship life.”

“Cool… Hey, will stuff there be too small for you?”

“No need to worry about us short stuff,” a slightly overcharged Chromedome laughed, patting your head with a servo which you playfully swatted away. “We’ve got to use our holoforms.”

“Holoforms?”

“The illusion that makes us look human,” Rewind explained. “We also use mass displacement to reduce our weights.”

“Oh yeah, I saw some of those when I was brought aboard. Rodimus, Maggie, and Rung used them.”

“They’re stupid,” Whirl complained loudly. “They don’t want us there! Then why fragging go?!”

“If you hate it so much, why are you going?” A mech called Wrecker asked angrily.

“Maybe I’m going to trash the place.”

“Oh yeah? How ‘bout you scrap off before I trash you?”

Whirl stepped forward threateningly, “You piece of scrap, I’ll-”

“I’ll bet,” You interrupted loudly, “that this planet doesn’t accept non-organics because they’re jealous; I would be too if I was faced with someone way more awesome than me. Never meet your heroes, right?”

Whirl laughed obnoxiously, “You’re right meat sack, smart fragger.”

“So, you’re not going to break anything?”

“Not when they clearly idolise me. Gotta keep the worship coming.”

Everybody watched in awe, all wondering the same thing. How had you stopped Whirl from fighting? Nobody could control him; it was a fact he was immensely proud of. If anyone bothered to ask Whirl why he’d acted so out of character, he would have lied or shrugged it off. In truth, Whirl was afraid of disappointing you. You were a clean slate, someone who didn’t know or care about his past. You understood him without trying to change him; in short, he respected you. Without showing affection or anything that would jeopardise his reputation, Whirl made the effort to find ways to listen to you, even if it meant taking the bait to obvious lies aimed at stroking his ego.

“Great because I’m looking forward to a little window shopping,” You chimed.

The conversation resumed at a normal pace once again. Meanwhile, when everyone else was in jovial conversation, Swerve worried between serving drinks. He’d spent so much time planning everything the two of you would do together that he hadn’t even considered his holoform. Swerve was no stranger to what passed as handsome on Earth and that concerned him. He wasn’t tall, slim, or remotely muscled and up until now, he hadn’t minded but what if you saw him and were repulsed or expecting more. There wasn’t time to change the holoform now but Primus, he wished he could.

Swerve opened his mouth to shoot a casual question about Earth shops but before he could, the ship’s PA came on, calling you to Megatron’s office.

When you reached the right corridor, Rodimus stomped out of the office. Upon seeing you, he pointed and yelled, “Just so you know, this isn’t my fault,” before storming off again.

You frowned, confused until Megatron called you in with a stiff, “Enter human.”

You stood awkwardly I the doorway, looking up at Megatron who’s discomfort showed. Despite his displeasure, Megatron spoke solemnly, “Thank you for coming, we have something very important to discuss. Tomorrow we arrive at Hacathar and it has come to my attention you intend to go to the planet’s surface. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to do that, instead you must stay here with Ratchet. You have my humblest apologies.”

“WHAT?!” You exploded. “Why can’t I go?”

“A foreign planet holds many dangers for… one of your kind,” Megatron lied. He couldn’t tell you the real reason; that a Cybertronian aboard the Lost Light was trying to kill you and the planet would provide too many opportunities to do so.

You sighed heavily, “Megatron, I’m afraid I can’t stay on the ship tomorrow. I mean, I didn’t want to bring this up and panic anyone but- but- I’ll die if I don’t get onto a planet soon.”

“Excuse me?”

“Human’s need exposure to natural pathogens to survive, we store them in our blood streams for ages but I’m beginning to run low; if I don’t top up soon, I’ll- I’ll-” You managed to start crying.

Megatron shuffled uncomfortably, unsure of what to do; your lie was taking a heavy toll on him. He couldn’t leave you unprotected, nor could he let you die; his processor was working hard to come up with a workable solution.

“Very well human,” Megatron said tiredly, “we shall reach a compromise. You may visit the planet to replenish your pathogens however, I shall be there to accompany you for the entire day.”

“I mean, can you believe it? Megatron actually told me I can’t go with anyone but him. Does he really think I’m that bloody fragile?” You ranted at Swerve who was feeling more and more crestfallen. Once again, all his plans to make you happy had been foiled. It was almost like there was a force keeping the two of you apart.

Despite his despair, Swerve slapped on a false smile and hid behind humour, “Hey, it could be worse, I can’t believe you managed to trick him like that. I mean, enzymes? That’s hilarious.”

You grimaced guiltily, “Gosh, I’m sorry Swerve. I’ve been bitching at you this entire time but you’re right, at least I get to go out now. I wish I could still go with you but there’ll be lots of time to spend together afterwards. Hey, how about we get a few bots together for a game night when we get back?”

Swerve gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, “You got it.”

You beamed and stretched, “Alright, I’m gonna get some sleep before we hit the planet. Night Swerve.”

“Right and I’ll be right here… recharging.”

Swerve laid on the berth, thoughts once again consuming him. Did he have a problem? He’d already considered this time and time again, constantly switching between conclusions. It was very possible that he needed to get over you, for you were the impossible; despite that, he didn’t want to get over you. It was near impossible to stop thinking about you except for when he talked with friends, providing a distraction to his overworked processor. The only problem with that method was that very few people considered him friend enough to converse with; in all honesty, he was lonely before you came along.

“Damn it, why can’t she go back to just a hot frag fantasy? At least then, I didn’t care.”

You pouted as various bots went to the ship’s docking bay and you awaited Megatron who had delivered you a set of rules while you slept. Never had you felt more patronised than when you read them.

Rule 1: You must wait till everyone else has left before we leave.

Rule 2: You will stay in sight at all times.

Rule 3: No wandering off.

Rule 4: No outside communication without my permission - that includes other crew members.

Rule 5: There will be no mention of Cybertronians on the planet surface.

Rule 6: There will be no consumption of alien foods so as to avoid injury or disease.

Rule 7: No visiting of bars, clubs, or any other such rowdy areas.

Rule 8: No participation in dangerous events.

Rule 9: No usage of the name Megatron upon the planet’s surface so as to avoid conflict.

Rule 10: You will follow my instruction at all times.

 You tapped at the datapad keyboard adding to the document.

Rule 11: No fun.

 Megatron cleared his vocaliser at you, “I see you’ve been studying the code of conduct I’ve given.”

You turned the datapad screen off, hiding the addition, and forced a grin, “I sure have, Megs.”

“Megs?”

“Rule nine, no use of your name on the planet; I was just practicing,” You said innocently.

Megatron frowned coolly; you were almost sure his face had only one setting by now.

“So… can we go now?” You asked.

Megatron nodded and applied his holo-form.

“Whoa… dude, you look awesome.”

Megatron ignored the praise, mainly because he didn’t know what to say; very few had praised him unless out of fear and now, nobody did, not that he felt he deserved it. He walked to the docking bay with you by his side where he could keep an optic on you.

You gasped upon reaching the ramp. The planet below was similar to a rainforest, with thick foliage of the lushest blue creating a tall canopy over the sandy floor. Buildings were scattered under the bushes and trees in a random order; they were seemingly made of sharp, long slabs of crystal. You briefly found yourself wondering if they were onyx. Various market stalls outside the buildings had thatched roofs made of yellow, straw like flowers. With a mix of odd foods on one, clothes the likes of which you’d never seen on another, and technology on a third, you were reminded of old bazaars seen on films. Then, there were the people, all organics like you, yet wholly different. There was a person who looked like a humanoid caterpillar with a long body and multiple hands. Then there were hulking elephants of people inching their way through the crowds with polite exclamations. Somebody examining jewellery had a large maw with razor teeth and apparently no eyes or nose; that person was actually licking the necklace it was holding.

You beamed excitedly at Megatron; it was like nothing you’d ever imagined. You ran straight for the first stall, a clothes stall with labelled racks that indicated not size but species. Megatron glared, he should have made another rule, no running. He paced towards you, maintaining a dignified speed while you listened to the shop keep, a sort of moth man, speaking with a customer; you were amazed by the ship’s translator that Perceptor had previously explained. Eventually, the moth man caught you staring.

“Can I help you?” He harrumphed disdainfully.

“Uh yeah, sure,” You breathed, attempting to calm your boggled mind. “Do you have any clothes for humans?”

“You can’t read?”

You glanced sheepishly at the signs, “Oh yeah, right, sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Megatron glowered, appearing by your side.

“What?”

“The rules.”

“Oh come on Megs, I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Your communication says otherwise.”

“What that? I didn’t know you meant I can’t talk to anyone, I was only asking-” You faltered at Megatron’s scowl, “You know what Megs, when you’re right, you’re right, sorry.”

“Well, at least you behave better than Rodimus.”

Usually, you would have argued your point, but you weren’t willing to push Megatron too far lest he took away your outdoor privileges.

It took only a minute to find the rack for human section and when you did, you were disappointed to find only one hideous, mustard coloured jumper that was much too small anyway.

“What a bust,” You murmured, looking around for the next store.

Your excitement was quickly restored upon spotting a music store which was playing a song you knew well.

“Oh my God,” You laughed. “They have the YMCA in space.”

You grabbed Megatron’s hand, pulling him quickly to the music stall, where you started to dance, much to his consternation.

“Dance with me,” You giggled.

“I do not dance.”

“Come on, every ex-warlord should know how to dance. Besides, this one’s easy, you just have to make the letters. If you don’t like this one, I can see if they have the Macarena.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Megatron deadpanned.

You danced with even more enthusiasm, and started singing along with your own words, “Old man, you can’t help yourself. Old man, do it for your good health. Old man, old man, come and dance with me, after that I will set you free. It’s the YMCA, come and dance to the YMCA.”

As you crooned, Megatron suffered; as it turned out, you didn’t behave better than Rodimus.

While you danced, Swerve was miserable. He’d visited all the places he’d planned to take you… alone. None of it meant anything without you; he was once again friendless. Now, it was approaching the planet’s early sunset and Swerve was stood by himself on a curved, wooden bridge which overlooked a flowing river; in a few short minutes, it would also have the perfect view of an effect known to occur on Earth, aurora borealis, more commonly known as the Northern Lights.

Light moaning revealed that Swerve wasn’t alone as he’d first thought. He looked around and quickly spotted a pair of the planet’s native Lepoterans (the very moth people you’d discovered earlier) making out amorously in the side alley. Swerve sighed despondently, sloping off in another direction; he couldn’t catch a break.

[madam-lit-nerd]

A Day Unlike Any Other, ch. 4

Chapter 3 | Masterpost

Dean had never been one to worry. Since childhood, he’d been fortunate enough to hold the innate conviction that no matter what happened, he’d figure it out. People with a past like his didn’t know any other way. Either figure it out, or...well, Dean wasn’t quite sure what the other option was, because he always fucking figured it out.

 So when Victor told him, in no uncertain terms, to speed things along with Castiel’s family, he wasn’t worried. He knew he’d figure it out, a way into the family...but he hadn’t expected it to come so damn easily. In fact, of all the options and scenarios he had planned for, he wasn’t ready for what actually happened.

 They’d just left the lemonade stand, jumbo cups of the sugary beverage held in the free hands that weren’t clasped between them, when Castiel pulled Dean toward a secluded bench off the major path. He settled down, pulling Dean with him, and offered a tentative smile at Dean’s questioning eyebrow.

 Always direct, straightforward as ever, he spoke bluntly.

 “I know we haven’t really talked about...this. How serious we want it to be, where we want it to go. And I understand that typically meeting the family is a significant event in any relationship. But...” he trailed off. He drew another deep breath. “It appears that my family would like to meet you.”

 “Really?” Dean wondered, feigning surprise as he tried to conceal his triumph.

 Castiel nodded, his expression tentative. “Hester came to see me yesterday,” he paused, deliberated. “Actually, make that ambushed. Hester ambushed me yesterday, after our lunch. She wants you to come meet the family this weekend.”

 “This weekend?”

 “Yes,” Castiel confirmed. He blushed under Dean’s steady gaze. “We have this charity golf game and supper at the club.”

 He finally looked away then, pretended to watch the crowds. But his peripheral was still arrested on Dean as he sat there, breathless, waiting.

 Dean could tell how nervous he was about this, his anxiety broadcasted with every movement. He squeezed Cas’s hand, pulling his attention back. His smile was confident. “I don’t want to brag, but my handicap is pretty damn good.”

 And just like that, they were back in easy territory. Castiel let out the breath he’d been holding, his eyes adoring on Dean’s face. A rush of exhilaration coursed through Dean. He felt like he could take on the whole damn world, if Cas would just keep looking at him like that.

“Considering that I don’t even really understand the handicap, you’ll need to brag to Michael about that,” Castiel admitted.

 “Can’t wait to meet him,” Dean assured him as he stood from the bench, pulling Cas up with him. “Now, let’s go find some shrimp kabobs!”

 ***

 Later, when Castiel was using the porta-potty, Dean shot off the quick text.

 Meeting the family this weekend.

 He shoved the phone back in his pocket, not bothering to wait for Victor’s response. He was already beginning to hate himself as it was, without Victor’s damning praise and affirmation.

 ***

 Castiel had always been the hesitant one in any relationship. He didn’t typically take chances, rarely laid his soul bare. He was honest, but guarded. He had never been one to rush into anything, especially the physical. 

 He had to know that he could trust the person, had to believe that they were as invested as he was. He had to want them, beyond the passing fancy. And yes, one could argue that he’d well surpassed that point with Dean already. Yet, ever hesitant, he hadn’t moved beyond increasingly familiar touches and hungry kisses.

 But that night, he knew it was time. He was ready for it, ready to give the handsome, generous man anything and everything.

 Perhaps it was the knowledge that Dean could very soon be gone that prompted his decision. Because even if Hester approved, even if the family accepted him...Dean might decide that he wasn’t worth it. He knew his family could be overbearing, off-putting.

 Maybe it was the rolling pit of need, so long unfulfilled, that plunged deeper and deeper every time they touched—maybe that gave him that gentle shove. He hadn’t attempted any kind of relationship in a long while, and he was so hungry for this, for Dean.

 But it was probably Dean—Dean and his kind smiles and happy eyes, his boisterous laughs, his shy blushes—that convinced Castiel. Dean who reacted so perfectly to Castiel, to his quirks and eccentricities. Dean who was unendingly patient and understanding. Dean was everything Castiel wanted, and he was his for the taking.

 So when the night ended, and the two of them stood on Castiel’s front door step, it seemed only natural to look up through his lashes, a heavy blush staining his cheeks as he whispered, “Come inside?”

 And Dean, while obviously surprised, smiled one of those soft, shy smiles that he seemed to reserve only for Castiel, and let Cas tug him through the front door.

 It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t frenzied. The two men exchanged soft kisses in the dark, slowly shedding their clothing as they meandered toward the bedroom, stopping often to exchange another kiss, then another, each hungrier than the last. When Castiel finally fell back onto the bed, with Dean’s weight above him, pressing him further into the mattress, he could feel them both, hard and aching.

 Each brush against his cock, even through the boxers he wore, was its own blissful agony. His fingers twisted into the bedspread, his body shuddering and twitching under Dean’s hands. But still they did not rush. Dean seemed content to borrow all the time in the world, pushing them both further, ratcheting their need higher.

 Castiel didn’t mind.

 In fact, he preferred it, this gentle build that allowed him to savor every moment. The weight of Dean on his tongue, the imprint of long fingers on his hips, the slow stretch of being opened so completely. He accumulated beautiful bruises across his collar bone, his chest, the inside of his thighs.

 He was so close, so close already. He didn’t think he would be able to control it, the need that consumed him so wholly. When Dean finally, finally, pushed in, Castiel was near sobs, begging shamelessly.

 As they moved together, their desire a rolling tide that built and built with each push, Castiel cried out, burying his face in Dean’s damp neck. He reveled in the sound of Dean’s voice cracking as he chanted Castiel’s name over and over, low and rough like a prayer.

 And then Dean took Castiel in hand, pumping once, twice, twisting just right under the head there, and Castiel was coming. He moaned as he clenched around Dean, yanking the other man with him into the blinding pleasure.

 How long it took before they collapsed together, their uneven breaths fanning out on overheated skin, their lips catching briefly, Castiel would never know. All he knew was Dean, still above him, inside of him, surrounding him so completely...a warm steadying weight that kept him from floating away. Castiel pressed another quick, breathless kiss to Dean’s lips.

 He didn’t let himself overthink it, didn’t let himself worry about what would happen that weekend with Dean and his family, didn’t let himself wonder if this was too much too soon. Instead, he let himself revel in the blankness of his mind, the heaviness of his limbs, the feeling of Dean pressed against him.

 “Stay?” he whispered into that breath of space between them. Dean’s smile grew; he nodded.

 As they settled in for sleep, Castiel couldn’t help his own contented smile.

 In that moment, he felt whole, complete—perfect.

 ***

 “Investment banker, huh?” Michael asked as he eyed the distance to the next hole.

 Dean still wasn’t sure how this had happened, his being grouped with a bunch of random family members. There was Michael, a cousin; and Raphael, another cousin; and Uriel, an uncle. Castiel had stayed behind at the clubhouse, at Hester’s urging, to “provide your poor aunt some company, my boy.”

 Dean had no doubt the family was in on this, her obvious plan to divide and conquer. He knew that Anna and Megan—both of whom Dean had met and somewhat gotten along with—were around somewhere with their own teams, but Hester had ensured that Dean was not put with either of them. That old bitch had, with one sentence, trapped Dean in hell for the afternoon. But, ever the professional bullshitter, Dean just smiled and nodded.

 “Yes, I’m at Sandover Investments,” he replied.

 “Really?” Uriel seemed surprised. “That’s quite a prestigious company.” His eyes narrowed. “How fortunate for you that they are so free in their employment preferences.”

 Dean grit his teeth and forced his smile to remain firmly in place.

 “Well, I am one of the best. So I’d say since their preference is to be the best company, it only makes sense.”

 Uriel arched a brow. “Oh, no. Please don’t misunderstand, Dean. I wasn’t disparaging your work ethic or abilities; I was talking about your predisposition towards men.”

 Dean barely controlled his eye roll. Because that really made it so much better, yes. Castiel had warned him just that morning about his family. He’d seemed genuinely worried about Dean’s reaction to his relatives, and now Dean understood. They were all a bunch of dicks.

 “Don’t get us wrong,” Raphael interjected. “We don’t mind...”he faltered, “homosexuality. Hell, we love Castiel, even if he is a little...” he trailed off, but Michael spoke up.

 “Well, you know, he’s in the arts.” Right, because that explained everything.

 All three men shared knowing smiles, condescending in their righteousness. Dean wanted to kick all of their asses.

 He had to wonder if he’d actually put up with Castiel’s family, if his mission weren’t so dependent on them. Would he choose to stay with Castiel, knowing how much he’d have to become involved with these pricks?

 And suddenly, he realized why Castiel was so hesitant. Why he seemed to still hold part of himself away, protective and secret. It was simple self-preservation, preparation for later this evening when Dean would say, “Your family is awful; thanks, but no thanks.”

 He couldn’t help but wonder how many times it had happened already, how many more times it would happen after Dean was out of the picture. He couldn’t stop the sadness that accompanied that thought, so he shoved it all away.

 He just inclined his head toward the tee, “May I?”

 He had been planning on letting one of these men win, in an attempt to ingratiate himself, but fuck that. Dean swung, his ball sailing cleanly down the green. He smiled smugly as he turned back to them, “Who’s next?”

 ***

 “I’m sure everything’s going well,” Anna assured Castiel as she patted his hand under the table. Hester had lumbered off to the bathroom, leaving Castiel, Anna, and Meg waiting for her. 

 Both women had played exactly one hole, enough for the photo op, then booked it back inside to the air conditioning. Castiel would have found it funny, if he weren’t so damn grateful to have them running interference with his aunt’s cutting tongue.

 “You say that, but you saw who she paired him with!” Castiel whined, dropping his head into his hands. “They’ll have him run off by the third hole!”

 “Listen, Clarence,” Meg spoke without looking up from her phone. She missed the glare Castiel shot at her. “You seem pretty invested in this guy, and from what we’ve seen, he seems the same.” She looked straight up at Castiel. “If he really cares about you—if he’s really worth you—he won’t care about those bags of dicks. He’ll still wanna be with you!”

 Castiel sighed. “I know, I know.”

 “But not really,” Meg interjected. She glared at her cousin, her expression determined. “I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say this before you believe it: you are worth everything. Everything, Castiel! And if Dean can’t see that, then he isn’t worth a pile of shit, and he’s definitely not worth you.”

 Castiel glanced away, he had to, and wiped roughly at his eyes. Anna laid a hand on his arm, her smile soft. 

 “She’s right, you know.”

 Castiel shook his head sadly. “I just don’t want to lose him, not when it’s just starting.” He smiled at them. “I feel like I finally have something that’s just for me, and I don’t want to give that up.”

 He didn’t bother adding that, no matter how many times they told him he was “worth it,” he still wouldn’t believe them. But given his past relationships, rare as they were, could his cousins really blame him?

 ***

 When the match finally ended, with Dean as the clear winner, the four men returned to the clubhouse for supper. As he strode toward the dining room, Dean could see Castiel sitting there with his aunt and cousins, his expression uncertain, his posture stiff. He glanced up when the men approached, eyes immediately locking on Dean, anxious and already hurting, prepared for the worst.

 Dean wasted no time, did not hesitate, to walk right up to him and pull him from his seat. He slid a long, possessive arm around Castiel’s waist and smiled warmly.

 “Guess who won, Babe?” he murmured, and before Castiel could speak, he yanked his boyfriend into a heated kiss.

 He could feel Castiel’s family watching them, reactions ranging from angry and appalled to shocked and delighted, but he didn’t care. And from the enthusiastic response he received, he would bet that Cas didn’t care much either. 

 When they parted, Castiel wore that adoring look again, the one that made Dean feel unstoppable, the expression that Dean craved more and more. He smiled back, running his fingers down Cas’s arm to find his hand and link their fingers.

 He glanced down to find Anna and Meg grinning up at them eagerly. When his eyes met Hester’s, though, he couldn’t read what he found there. It was disconcerting. He’d always been good at reading people, but her...he honestly couldn’t tell.

 He didn’t back down though. Instead, he pulled Cas even closer and guided him toward another table, away from his controlling family, away from Hester.

Chapter 5 | Masterpost

[verdigrisprowl]

Aug 31 random movie night - Poirot: Murder on the Orient Express

Because Prowl wanted to hang out with Soundwave, so they watched a movie. At last, Prowl got to see that one movie he missed ages ago.

In his attempt to solve the murder mystery, Prowl successfully figured out the least important detail in the entire case and didn’t figure out any of the important details, and he’s sorely disappointed in himself.

After the movie they talked about morality and police, because of course they did.

ItsyBitsySpyers 10:39 pm *When Prowl arrives, he'll find Soundwave lifting a couch from one side of the club in his feelers and transferring it to a spot in front of the video wall. One of the game tables is glowing, but not projecting anything; it'll stay that way for another minute before dimming and going into power save mode.*

*He's going to plop himself down with a cube of green energon riddled with silver dust and wait.* Me 10:41 pm *Prowl waits for Soundwave to finish adjusting the furniture (with just his feelers. wow.) before he joins him on the couch. He immediately pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:43 pm *Almost asks if he's okay before remembering that's the Comfortable Seating Position. Nods hello instead.*

(txt): Murder mystery chosen. Prowl: prepared? All guesses, commentary accepted; thought processes: fascinating. Me 10:45 pm *Ah. His favorite genre. Prowl's optics flicker brighter.* Prepared. Me 10:46 pm ... I've had cases end like that. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:47 pm *Glances over.*

(txt): ...Common? Me 10:47 pm Not common. But it's happened. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:48 pm *Small huff. This human's name never fails to amuse him. But back to the serious business.*

(txt): ...What done? Cases ended? Me 10:49 pm In a couple of cases. In another there were still accomplices that needed to be investigated and charged. ... Is pregnancy a killable offense on some places on Earth? I was given to understand they celebrated it. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:53 pm (txt): Complex matter. Common human relationship demand: monogamy. Offspring created outside monogamous relationship: considered... less, wrong.

(txt): Many film instances seen. Not understood yet. Me 10:54 pm Oh. Yes, that's right. They're ridiculous over that. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:55 pm (txt): Agreed. *Offspring are offspring, no? They all contribute to increasing the population.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:56 pm (txt): Poirot speech pattern liked. Me 10:56 pm ... Because he speaks in third person? ItsyBitsySpyers 10:56 pm *Nod.* Me 10:57 pm *Small nod.* Me 10:58 pm I'm disappointed we didn't get to see more of his detective work at the beginning. I wanted to know what the forensic evidence he found concerning the victim's neck told him. Me 10:59 pm ... this Ratchett character is the most suspicious one. He's going to be either the victim or a red herring. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:00 pm (txt): Initial case details not... vital presentation. Inclusion reason: other.

(txt): However, agreement offered. Soundwave: curious. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:01 pm (txt): ...Fish? Me 11:01 pm *Sympathizes with Poirot, in a way. "She broke the rules, she knew the punishment." Even if it seemed unjust—she broke the rules, she knew the punishment. There were times when Prowl would have accepted it unquestioningly.* ... Fish? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:02 pm (txt): Herring. Human, secretly fish? Me 11:02 pm Oh. No no. A red herring is a distraction. The person the story wants you to suspect so you don't notice the real culprit. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:03 pm (txt): Distraction, misdirection. Understood. Appreciated.

*Logs this in his dictionary* (txt): ...What origin, phrase? Me 11:04 pm I have no idea. Earth, but I don't know beyond that. I thought it simply meant what it meant. Is a herring a fish? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:05 pm *He nods and places a picture on his visor. It's not red at all.* (txt): Honorable detective. Me 11:05 pm *A slight nod.* Me 11:07 pm ... So those ones ARE under his payment. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:07 pm *Nod nod.* Me 11:08 pm ... That could be poisoned. Me 11:10 pm ... He answered in French when he was addressed in English. If Ratchet speaks English, why would he answer an English question in French? That probably wasn't him. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:10 pm *Snow. Ugh.* Me 11:11 pm *Well. That'll disrupt the evidence of the crime scene.* Me 11:13 pm *Called it. He's the victim.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:14 pm *Keeping track of how many things Prowl gets right. He does so like to see him at work - er, sort of.* Me 11:15 pm The train hit the drift after he screamed and after somebody answered in French. It DID disrupt the crime scene. Me 11:16 pm ... The conductor was so eager to get Poriot on board. Perhaps he did or arranged the killing, believing he could fool Poirot with the evidence. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:17 pm (txt): Risky. What reason, murder? (txt): This, expensive train business. Me 11:18 pm Which is why he wants him to solve it now, and quickly, and why he wants the independent private detective to do it without getting the police involved. The killer's motive is unknown. We don't know what Ratchett did that made him a target in the first place. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:19 pm (txt): Fair. Soundwave waits. Me 11:20 pm ... That news is going to cause a panic. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:20 pm (txt): Similar situations experienced? Trapped with unknown killer? Me 11:20 pm ... Was the director in the room when the doctor said the murder was done with a knife? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:20 pm ((...I actually forget whether he was or not)) Me 11:21 pm ((... i think he was)) *leans forward. hasn't seen that technique before.* Aisy Arms. It might just be part of a word. ... Daisy Armstrong, or something. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:23 pm (txt): Human designation? Me 11:23 pm Yes. Daisy is a... fffemale name? It's a flower, flowers are usually female names. ... The woman who said someone was in her room. The killer entered the wrong compartment, perhaps? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:24 pm *Tilts his helm.*

(txt): If true, sloppy. Witness left. Me 11:25 pm So. The killer speaks French. May be ambidextrous, which is rare among humans. Might be bad at telling the rooms apart. The killer is male, since he answered in French. Ha! Confirmation that Ratchett didn't speak French. This one can speak languages. It might have been him. Me 11:28 pm ... I think that was the same handwriting. The burned note was another threat. Who burned it? Ha! ItsyBitsySpyers 11:28 pm *Stares at Prowl* Me 11:28 pm I got the name! ItsyBitsySpyers 11:28 pm (txt): ...How full name guessed? Me 11:28 pm "Daisy" is the only human first name I know that ends with "aisy" and "Armstrong" is the only last name I know that begins with "Arms." ItsyBitsySpyers 11:29 pm (txt): Fortunate.

(txt): Less, human child. Me 11:29 pm ... Oh. Oh. The man who works on the train, who said that his wife and daughter died. This Ratchett killed a girl, whose mother died shortly after. And the man who works on the train doesn't usually take this line. He claimed he was going to visit a friend. He's guilty or else involved. Me 11:31 pm ... Although this man is also now a suspect. But my top suspect is the man whose wife and daughter died a few years ago. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:32 pm (txt): Wife, daughter death understood. If deployers: terminated, Soundwave: tempted. Me 11:32 pm Oh. That's how the killer got in when the room was bolted. Through the next room over. (("it is indeed a french word" omg thank you poirot)) Me 11:34 pm That's the director, right? *Faces are hard.* He's very eager to put the story together the way he wants, rather than waiting for Poirot to do it. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:34 pm (txt): Negative, doctor. Me 11:34 pm Ah. Me 11:37 pm ... Five years ago, is that when the Daisy murder was? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:37 pm *Small nod.* Me 11:38 pm Hm. The man with the toothache can confirm the Italian man was asleep, but no one can confirm that the man with the toothache was telling the truth. *Huffs.* Is EVERYONE on this train connected to the victim? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:39 pm (txt): World: often small. Me 11:41 pm The killer, or at least one killer, was male. That's all I can say for absolute certain. And they didn't want anyone to find out that that Daisy was why they killed him. So they weren't proud of it. ... Hm. So she's lying. Me 11:43 pm The one in the kimono wasn't walking at 2:30, were they? I thought it was before the train stopped. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:43 pm (txt): Kimono human also not round, short. Me 11:45 pm Checking which hand she uses? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:45 pm *Points at the name.*( (txt): Initials. English letter H. Not match. Me 11:47 pm Ah. Those two are in a relationship but shouldn't be. Which is why she was so bothered to see someone else be punished for being in a relationship. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:48 pm *Nod.*

(txt): Both justice incidents: important characterization feed. Me 11:48 pm Mhmm. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:48 pm (txt): That, reason details not given. Priority: connection, not data. (txt): ...Falling snow inside. This, not crime scene disruption? Priority: window kept open? (txt): When melted, snow: water. Dilution, stains. Me 11:49 pm Right, so despite the fact that everyone knows this man, my suspicions are still on the train employee early on who said he lost his wife and daughter, since if he IS the husband he'd have the strongest motive, AND he hasn't been investigated as a suspect since early on in the investigation, which would lead the audience to forget him. It's too cold for the snow to melt. Perhaps they let it in to prevent his body from rotting. Me 11:51 pm ... Hm. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:53 pm *Soundwave glances toward Prowl.* Me 11:55 pm *Shakes head. Didn't make the connection.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:55 pm *That's not unexpected. Soundwave deals in languages; Prowl does not.* Me 11:58 pm *Well, Prowl got that most of the people on the train knew the victim. Prowl didn't get that EVERYONE on the train knew the victim.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:58 pm ((sorry it froze on me)) Me 11:59 pm ... So, new theory: they were all in on it together, and concocted the story together to fool Poirot. Yesterday ItsyBitsySpyers 11:59 pm [][][]All in on it together.[][][] Perhaps. Query: Which, murderer? Me 12:00 am ... All of them, it sounds like. ... The man who lost his wife and daughter were the red herring. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:01 am *Soundwave hums and reaches a hand out. Clever, clever mech.* Me 12:01 am *He's not clever. He didn't figure it out. He guessed completely wrong.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:02 am *He got most of it. And he did get one thing right from near the start.* Me 12:02 am *slouched morosely.* *yeah, the one thing he got right was a name, and he only got it right because he doesn't know any other human names.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:03 am *No, no. The poisoning, in a sense.* Me 12:05 am *"The rule of law must be held high. And if it falls down, you pick it up and hold it up higher."* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:05 am (txt): This, difficult mystery. Little thought time. Human matters interfere - language, customs. Prowl performed well under circumstances. Soundwave did not match. Me 12:08 am *At this point, is musing on the moral quandary instead.* ... Maybe he deserved to die, but that didn't give them the right to kill him. *He's been coming back to that thought a lot, lately.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:10 am (txt): What preferred, if justice: denied? Me 12:12 am ... Is the world a better place for their having taken justice into their own hands? Have lives been made better? Will there be less suffering in the future? ItsyBitsySpyers 12:14 am *Taps his fingers.*

(txt): Knowledge: impossible. Perhaps more children terminated. Perhaps nothing done. Me 12:15 am That makes the difference. But it appeared he regretted it. At the beginning he was seeking ways to make up for the crime, wasn't he? Me 12:16 am Justice having already failed, if he no longer posed a danger to society, there was no increase in the greater good for his having been murdered. And a decrease in the greater good by their flaunting the law and ending a life. Me 12:17 am They were wrong to kill him. ... But I'm not sure Poirot was wrong to let them get away with it. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:18 am (txt): Then Prowl's solution, not Poirot's. Would inform police, these tw--

*Well that cuts him short* (txt): ...Not understood. Me 12:18 am They made the world a little bit worse by killing a man outside of the law who already regretted his crime. But I don't think turning all of them in would have made the world better. Me 12:20 am I don't think they'll ever kill again. I think they'll, on some level, feel guilt over their actions, and that guilt will either make them useless to society or else drive them to enhance society. Turning them in would have merely necessitated twelve trials. Those who were convicted would merely become useless wards of prisons, and those who weren't would likely be stained by the trial and have a harder time effecting any good in the world. And if society collectively decided it wasn't going to blame them for their crime, considering who it was against... then they may as well have saved themselves the time and effort on the trials by not reporting the crime. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:23 am (txt): ...Perhaps. Maid stated face seen in sleep. -Others- claimed face: killer's. Disbelieved. If Cassetti's... long torment.

*He's quiet then, listening to the rest of what Prowl has to say and chewing on it.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:25 am (txt): Poirot remains trustworthy? Should continue? What promise, no future covers? What promise, corruption avoidance? Me 12:28 am ... He's already corrupt, isn't he? He's already violated his vow to uphold the law, no matter what it is—because he thought it was... right. *A moment of silence; and then,* What do you think? ItsyBitsySpyers 12:31 am *Soundwave folds his hands over his middle and settles back into the couch, looking at the now-blank wall of screens but not really paying them any attention. That's... a good question.* ItsyBitsySpyers 12:34 am (txt): ...Prowl acknowledges Soundwave existence circumstances: different? Understands viewpoint: altered, not - ideal world creation? Me 12:35 am I know. ItsyBitsySpyers 12:35 am *He nods. All right. As long as Prowl keeps that in mind while he talks.* ItsyBitsySpyers 1:27 am (txt): Unlawful decisions not -all- automatic corruption. When fired, Rumble, Frenzy energon access: none. Law forbade work outside assignments. These, only remaining fuel source. If officer caught, understood situation, let go... this, personal decision. Law defied. Not corrupt. Assistance given when other officials refuse true social preservation duty, existing protective system: insufficient. This enforcer, trusted.

(txt): Soundwave's understanding... Poirot's decision: similar. Not -same;- murder preserved nothing. This, -murderer- preservation, Prowl's reasons. Self-benefit not recorded. Business friend benefit not factor. Corruption disbelieved.

(txt): Stated Poirot belief: fallen laws picked up, held higher. If this: incorrect decision, true fall, Poirot's future self-expectation: higher. If this: correct decision, Poirot's future -system- expectations: higher.

*He pauses and taps his fingers against his armor.*

(txt): Soundwave's choice: trust. Me 1:32 am *Prowl tips his head back, looking at the ceiling, as he contemplates this. First to pick apart what Soundwave is actually saying, and then what it means.* ... Then you're defining corruption as a moral thing? I define it as a legal thing. Legally, his action was corrupt, regardless of who it benefitted. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:45 am (txt): Laws: current social morals given government approval. Nothing else.

(txt): Morals change, laws change. Noticing poor current moral, defying related laws: not corrupt. That, protecting, serving until law replaces individual assistance. (txt): Legally, Ravage once forbidden caste, citizenship. Now, different. Me 1:47 am For the actions of this movie to be acceptable, morals would have to change to allow private citizens to decide, of their own volition, to get revenge against the people who wronged them, and then face no repercussions for it. Someone who is in a position where he has sworn to uphold the law IS corrupt if he violates the law. He is violating the foundation of what he stands for. Me 1:50 am This message has been removed. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:50 am (txt): Soundwave never said Poirot's action: acceptable. Similarity, understanding noted. Soundwave's point: if this, fall - noted possibility - future betterment expected. That, Prowl's question.

(txt): Negative. Upholding law: intended method. Action foundation: protection, service. This message has been removed. Me 1:51 am This message has been removed. Yes, morals change, laws change. And what if the morals that he is pursuing when he violates the law change over time so that THEY'RE considered unacceptable? Yes or no question: you argue that if someone who is in a position where he has sworn to defend the law breaks the law because he considers it immoral, then he's not corrupt? ItsyBitsySpyers 1:57 am (txt): Prowl cannot argue pursued greater morals: unacceptable, reason: potential change toward status: unacceptable - laws also change, hold same potential; Prowl believes full law obedience now: proper.

(txt): Affirmative, if result: true social protection. Lawbreaker. Not corrupt. Me 1:57 am Then picture this scenario. ItsyBitsySpyers 1:59 am *He twists to listen, tucking the leg on the couch under the one still touching the floor. This is an interesting discussion, and while he does not expect them to ever agree, he will try to at least hear Prowl out.* Me 2:00 am Today, it IS legal for Ravage to be a citizen with a caste. He has the same legal rights as any other Cybertronian. Now imagine that he calls the police for help with some emergency; his life is in danger. An officer is reporting when he receives a second call from somewhere farther away with a lesser emergency, some petty burglary. The officer considers it immoral to refuse to go to help what he considers a full mech in order to help what he considers to be a mere animal. He abandons Ravage to investigate the burglary. Is he, then, not corrupt, because he's following his morals rather than the law? That's the problem. You can't rely on morals, because morals change. And they don't always move UP. Morals are fickle and sometimes they're wrong. The law isn't perfect and will probably never be perfect, but at least the law is something that's agreed upon. And no—no, maybe the law shouldn't always be obeyed when it seems to be something that's wrong. But at least the people whose duty is to uphold the law should uphold it, not throw it aside for their own morals. How can somebody who does that be trusted, even if they THINK it's right? ItsyBitsySpyers 2:02 am *...............Please hold. He needs a minute to process that.* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:12 am (txt): ...If example event passes, Soundwave's hope: homicide investigation officer adopts Poirot's choice.

*That might sound like it's meant to be a horrible joke. It's really, really not.*

(txt): ...Unknown. Soundwave does not have more answers. Here, can only follow spark. Me 2:14 am ... A citizen can follow his heart. A citizen can follow his morals. An officer should follow his laws. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:17 am (txt): ...Then Prowl follows laws. Soundwave defies imperfections. If Prowl agrees, Prowl assists change work. Me 2:17 am ... You might notice that I'm not an officer. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:18 am (txt): That, also not believed. Me 2:18 am THIS IS WHY I'm not an officer. Me 2:20 am *uncurls and leans forward, elbows propped on his knees.* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:28 am *Soundwave turns to face front again, thinking. He has no idea what he's supposed to do or say. Prowl doesn't want to be imperfect, but Prowl doesn't want to be perfect either. What possible answer does a rule-flouting ex-Decepticon have for him?* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:29 am *None, apparently.*

(txt): ...Question: What morals, Prowl's? Without law. Me 2:29 am *Primus, would Prowl love to be perfect. But you can't be perfect on every facet at once. You've got to pick one.* ... That's a vast question. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:30 am (txt): Basic social beliefs. Me 2:30 am *SOCIAL beliefs?* ... Even harder. Me 2:33 am ... A minimum level of acceptable contentment for the greatest quantity of people. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:35 am (txt): Base: morally corrupt idea? Me 2:35 am ... Come again? ItsyBitsySpyers 2:38 am *Small frustrated vent. Mostly at himself. 90% or so.*

(txt): Prowl's stated ideal: selfish, vicious, power grab, oppressive intent? Me 2:38 am ............ What? *where in the world did that chain of words come from and how did it get there from what he said* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:39 am (txt): Confirm/deny. Those words, accurate descriptions? Me 2:40 am I have no idea where those words came from and how they're supposed to relate to what I said. Accurate descriptions of WHAT? Did I miss three sentences? ItsyBitsySpyers 2:44 am (txt): Prowl statement, Prowl's basic desire: [][][]... A minimum level of acceptable contentment for the greatest quantity of people.[][][] Soundwave offered potential desire descriptions, questioned match validity. Me 2:46 am ... How does somebody grabbing for oppressive power cause contentment? I—I suppose deny, mainly because I don't comprehend even tangentially how one concept is supposed to relate to the other. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:47 am (txt): That, point. Me 2:47 am ... Oh. Great. Glad I understood it. *Very clearly understands nothing.* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:49 am (txt): Prowl's goal not Starscream's, Megatron's, Barricade's, nameless war hound's. Prowl's goal: better. Trustworthy, if imperfect.

(txt): No other answer available. Me 2:50 am Oh. Thanks. Yeah, I kinda thought it was better. That's why I chose it. *He's still lost.* ItsyBitsySpyers 2:57 am *Soundwave rubs his crest.*

[][][]How can somebody who does that be trusted, even if they think it's right?[][][]

(txt): Soundwave's attempted statement follows.

(txt): Prowl self: imperfect; goal still trustworthy. Other officer candidate personal growth, self-questioning, self-containment, internal regrets: rare. Occasional citizen law abandonment need acknowledged. If Prowl: officer, Soundwave will trust. Me 2:59 am Oh. Thanks. Too bad I'm not an officer. ItsyBitsySpyers 2:59 am *Rubs his crest harder.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:00 am (txt): That, your decision. Supported, if desired. If mind: changed, support still given. Me 3:01 am ... I don't think I can give you the answer you're hoping to hear. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:03 am (txt): Soundwave's hopes: irrelevant. Desire: Prowl becomes self Prowl wants. If this: wanted, this: accepted. If different, acceptance given then. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:04 am *He drops his hand and lets his forearms rest on his thighs, crossed in an X.*

(txt): Disregard remarks if wanted. Soundwave's words: poor. Me 3:04 am *... then Soundwave wasn't going to get the answer he hoped to hear.* I appreciate your support. ItsyBitsySpyers 3:05 am *Small nod.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:13 am *...Offers a hand.* Me 3:14 am *takes it. leans on soundwave.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:15 am *...He was going to ask if Prowl wanted to put that conversation out of mind for a bit with a game of Hax - they never have played in person - but this is fine too.* ItsyBitsySpyers 3:16 am *Wraps his arm around and idly pets Prowl's far shoulder. It's been a while since they just enjoyed some not-immediately-napping silence anyway.* Me 3:17 am *More room to lean in closer.*

[readsahmmoore]

A Dogged Love: Chapter 2

 “All you think of lately, is getting underneath me. All I dream of lately, is how to get ya underneath me…” Seraphin heard the alarm, distant at first, start to move her groggy body. And as with most mornings, she couldn’t help but shimmy with the catchy tune.

Her menagerie of animals roused around her, happy to see their human awake. “How are my babies this morning? Who’s needs to potty?” She asked the 4 smooshy faces staring at her. Their excitement increased at the mention of a word related to going outside. Swinging her legs out of bed, she sat up and gave each of her fur babies some love. But their smoochfest was interupted by her phone ringing on the table beside her.

Checking the screen, she saw the silly picture of her best friend from their last road trip appear. “Jaqlyn, what’s up?” “Unfortunately, me. How you get up this early is beyond me.” Jaqlyn replied. “It’s six fifteen. It’s not that early! And some of us actually have to work at staying in shape.” “Thank God I’m not some. Now, quit talking. If I hang up now, I can still sleep for another two hours…” “You called me!” Sera quipped. “M-kay. I need a ride. Please and thank you. I’ll be ready by eight forty–five. Goodnight.”

Hanging up, Sera shook her head at her best friend. Inseparable since their freshman year in college, the two were more different than alike, but understood each other eerily well and accepted each other wholeheartedly. “Your aunt is nutso, guys,” Sera told the herd watching her dress for her Crossfit class.      An hour and a half later, Sera returned home to four raucous dogs and one sprite-like cat, all of whom were ready breakfast.

After grabbing their food, she let them eat while she threw a quick bowl of oatmeal and a couple of strips of bacon together for herself. Sitting out on her porch, watching the pups frolick, she ate and checked her emails, preparing for the day. Scanning her inbox, her eyes caught site of a familiar, but totally unexpected name.

She froze. Sera fumbled trying to set down her mug of orange juice, slamming it against the lip of the table. Sticky juice sloshed everywhere, but her eyes never left her Ipad. Sera could vaguely make out the sound of Oliver barking his little Frenchie head off over the roaring of blood in her ears. Her heart pounded and her breathing ratcheted up a few notches–a reaction she noticed, but was unable to control. Sera’s mind erupted at a sprint, rapidly firing off questions: Is this for real? Is it really her? Why after all this time? Is she okay? How did she remember?

Sharp teeth on Sera’s toes snapped her back to the present and before she was conscious enough to stop it, Willow was off with her slipper and halfway across the yard. She stared, blankly, at Oliver’s little sister, the resident shoe thief and foot fetishist.

Forcing herself to take a couple of deep breaths, Sera looked from the taunting dog, back to her Ipad and focused on the From address: qconnelly@gmail.com. QConnely.

There was no mistaking it. She knew only one Q. Connely. And not many people used her old address which still forwarded to her current account. Sera mentally took a step back, ignoring the swell of conflicting emotions ravaging her insides to visualize them in pie chart form–one of her favorite ways to cope with overwhelming thoughts or decisions. Taking stock, she surmised she was about forty percent surprised and equal parts unnerved and elated. She wasn’t sure why, after all this time, Quinn would contact her. It had been years since they last spoke, and not a day had it been easy.

“Well, guys,” she said, looking at each of the dogs collapsed at her feet, “what do you think she wants?” Sera looked to Jaxyn, her oldest pup and confidant. “What do you think, Jaxy?” Coming to a stop in front of her master, Jaxyn politely put her paw up on Sera’s leg. Taking Jaxyn’s head in her hands, Sera kissed the dog square on her squishy, fuzzy lips. “Thanks for the support, Sweets. I love you, too.” Jaxyn’s nub wagged wildly and Sera looked from Jaxyn’s jovial grin to the email, letting her eyes fall on the title she glanced over before. “Pimento Cheese and Fish Sticks”. Sera inhaled sharply, oblivious to the startled dogs surrounding her, who teetered between excited and alarmed. Her eyes burned and her nose tingled, preparing for the tears.

The memory flashed into her mind, pulling at her, plowing into her like a bug into a windshield. Surrendering, Sera closed her eyes and let the memory of her first official date with Quinn wash over her.

A day that looked like a series of unfortunate events ended up becoming their Day of One Very Fortunate Event, as they’d later refer to it. Meeting under some of the most awkward circumstances, including a vet visit involving one exceptionally nervous dog stomach and a helicopter poop assault, it was immediately clear to Sera that there was an undeniable spark between them–though it wouldn’t be until after the visit that either of them would do anything about it. By the end of her shift that fateful day, Sera hadn’t been able to get Quinn off her mind. The way they’d laughed hysterically at the insanity of the situation made her smile. And the way Quinn insisted on helping clean up, while thoroughly apologizing showed her kindness and consideration.

Above all else, it was Quinn’s sympathy and compassion for poor nervous Baxter that touched Sera the most. Quinn never raised her voice or reprimanded the dog for his accident, like she saw so many other owners do. Instead, Quinn took a minute to rub Baxter’s stomach and murmur into his ear, calming him down, making sure he was alright.

It was that moment that later had Sera ignoring the rules when she looked up Quinn’s number in her chart. Using a concerned checkup on Baxter as reason for the call, Sera offered to bring something over to settle the pooch’s stomach. And the ploy worked.

Sera’s ringing phone yanked her from her reverie. She took a deep breath and checked the name on the screen. Seeing Jaq’s face she checked the time–already five minutes late and she wasn’t even dressed yet.

“Sorry! Two minutes and I’m on my way!” Sera shouted, answering the phone and just as quickly ending it with Jaq mid-sentence. Running through the house, Sera threw on clothes and grabbed her things. She was out the door in a minute and forty-seven seconds she noticed, when she punched Jaq’s speed dial.

“I’m around the corner, come out, I’ll slow down a little,” Sera teased. “Ha-ha. Your just lucky my boss happens to love me,” Jaq told her, sliding in to the passenger seat. “Not if you don’t bring him his coffee and donuts he won’t. I should know.” A smile came to Sera’s lips as she sped down the dirt road leading to her family’s ranch. “No kidding. Your dad still goes on and on about how his own daughter won’t indulge him after all he’s done raising you and keeping you alive all these years. And about how I’m the daughter he never had,” Jaq added, stealing a glance at Sera. “Hey, it’s not my fault you learned to ride a horse better than I did. You sure had enough practice with your endless stream of men.” “Don’t be jealous, you know I’ll still teach you,” Jaq added, leaning over the console, sliding her hand over Sera’s chest. Sera braked hard outside the barn, laughing as she swatted Jaq’s hand away. “You missed that boat a long time ago. Now get out of here before I tell your boss you’re trying to corrupt his little girl!”

Instead of getting out, Jaq turned to face her. “What’s going on?” she asked. Sera furrowed her brow, knowing she was caught. “What? What are you talking about?” Jaq knew her better than she knew herself. It wasn’t like she was keeping the email from Jaq but it wasn’t the right time. She hadn’t had any time to process how she felt about it and they both needed to get to work. “Seriously, Ms. If You’re On Time You’re Late?” Jaq rolled her eyes and reclicked the seatbelt she had taken off. Dropping her head back on the headrest, Sera sighed. “I got an email from Quinn this morning. Okay, thank you, goodbye.” Sera made a play for Jaq’s seatbelt. She was met with an arched eyebrow and hung her head. “Come on,” she whined. “I’m late. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.” She looked to Jaq to see if her placation worked and watched both her friend’s eyebrows shoot up. “Fine! If you get out of the car and let me go to work, I’ll forward you the email when I get a minute.” Sighing and feigning interest in her nails, Jaq didn’t budge. Sera looked around, exasperated. Moaning, she pulled out her phone and called up Quinn’s email, forwarding it to Jaq and showing her the screen. As soon as Jaq heard her phone’s email alert, she smiled brightly and climbed out of the car. “Thank you!” She said as she jogged into the barn.

Shaking her head, Sera threw her truck in reverse and peeled out on the white caliche. She had known Jaq for twenty-one years. They knew each other better than they knew their own sisters. She wasn’t sure why she thought she could sneak anything past her best friend. Jaq was the only one to tell her the truth when she ended things with Quinn. And hearing that Jaq thought she was making a mistake wasn’t the easiest thing, but she loved her for her honesty. Jaq had the balls to put words to what she already feared.

Flipping through the stations as she drove through town, Sera briefly heard a few notes she knew all too well. Notes she usually couldn’t forget fast enough. But this time, she switched back to the station they’d come from. Sitting at an intersection, she stared, unfocused and listened to the lyrics she still knew by heart.

‘…And I will swallow my pride. You’re the one that I love. And I’m saying goodbye… Say something, I’m giving up on you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you. Anywhere, I would have followed you. Say something, I’m giving up on you…’ Say Something, by Ian Axel. Sera wasn’t sure if she appreciated him for writing a song that so aptly fit her break up with Quinn, or if she hated him for writing something that set such a gut-wrenching experience to music.

Without knowing how, Sera found herself parked behind her vet’s office, tears streaking her cheeks. She wasn’t sure when the song ended or how long she was sat there, but she was sure where her mind went. She couldn’t hear that song without thinking of Quinn, of the hurt in her eyes when Quinn pleaded with her to explain what was happening–when she begged Sera not to leave her. Part of her heart still ached just as deeply as it had the day she left Quinn, and all the days since. She knew time didn’t heal all wounds. Some wounds weren’t meant to heal. They were meant to remind you of something you weren’t supposed to forget.

When the back door to the office popped open, Sera swipped the tears from her face and gathered her things. Susan, the office manager, was looking for her and she didn’t want to talk about the tears she wanted to hide. Sera got out of the car and opened the back door, shuffling things around to buy time. “I’ll be right in, Susan!” She yelled. “My dad had a problem with one of the calfs this morning, so I got a late start!” She hated lying to Susan.

The woman was like a second mother to her, but sometimes white lies were easier than dealing with the truth. Sera heaved a sigh of relief when Susan waved and closed the door, leaving her to pull herself together. She knew she had to respond to Quinn’s email–not just for Quinn, but for herself. She knew she had waited long enough. If three years hadn’t lessened the pain surrounding her thoughts about Quinn, there was no point in ignoring her any longer. She deal with it tonight.

Distracting herself with work was a success. Sera had a few surgeries to keep her mind occupied in the morning, but now, back in her office a few minutes before lunch, she heard a faint tap at her door.

Looking up she saw Jaq holding a bag of take out and a warm smile. “Hey you, can I come in?” Jaq asked. ”Who’d you blow to get you here and don’t say my dad. Ooo and is that Antonio’s?” Sera asked, referring to the bag of food. “That stable boy John, and a wink was all it took. Of course it’s Antonio’s. What do you take me for?” Jaq said, slipping into the chair opposite Sera’s. Sera leaned back and sighed loudly, rubbing her hands over her face. “So, how are you?” Jaq kept her eyes on Sera while she separated and opened the food, sliding a steaming plate of lasagna over in front of her friend. “Shocked.” Jaq nodded. “I bet. Me, too.” She twirled a forkfull of noodles. “Are you going to respond? I think you should.” This time, it was Sera’s turn to nod. “Good!” Jaq exclaimed, reaching into another bag, bringing out a bottle of red wine. “I was hoping you’d see things my way, so I brought your favorite inhibition reducer.”      Sera smiled for the first time since she first read Quinn’s email that morning. “I love you, Jaq.” “I know you do. I love you, too. Now hurry up and eat. You’ve got to drive me back to work,” Jaq added, flashing a killer smile.

The whole drive home Sera thought about what she would say to Quinn. Why did it always seem so easy to think of what you want to say until it was time to actually say it? Moscato in hand, Sera headed into the house on a mission. She grabbed a wine glass, fired up her laptop and let the dogs out, determined not to lose her courage. She had chickened out all those years ago and ended things with Quinn. And it was Quinn who’d reached out here and there since then. Now it was time to step up and face the guilt.

Once the dogs were in and fed, she gave each of them some love and then tossed them all a bone before she curled up on the couch, downing an entire glass of wine. She brought up her email and re-read Quinn’s words, well into her second glass of wine. ‘…halfway around the world…’ The line stuck out this time around. Sera had heard, through friends, that about a year after they had ended things, Quinn joined the Army. But at the time, much like everything else she did with things involving Quinn, she blocked it out and only now began to realize what that meant. She must be deployed. Was she safe? When would she come home? Would she come home?

Sera’s mind reeled at the last thought. What if something happened to Quinn before she got to see her again? What if something happened before Quinn knew how she felt? With the possibilities of things she didn’t want to imagine swirling in her mind, Sera finished her glass and started typing.

[roseymoseyberry]

Arrangement (2/?)

And here we go with chapter 2, also known as “thank fucking god the meeting is finally wrapped up and look Megatron is finally back I promise he’s a significant character in this fic”

Title: Arrangement

Series: Transformers: Prime, post Predaking Rising. More or less ignores everything about RID15, and facts from the rest of the Aligned verse will be cherry-picked as I see fit

Pairing: MegaBee aka BumbleTron aka Bumblebee/Megatron

Warnings: Politics, mention of dysfunctional forced relationships, and mentions of past violence/murder. But mostly a lot of politics.

Fic Summary:

“It’s not my deal. I’m just the glitch who agreed to take the job.”

The balance of peace in post-war Iacon is precarious enough when a former warlord returns unannounced from his exile. Without a war to fight in or a leader to follow, a scout turned warrior turned uneasy politician decides to irreparably tie their lives together for the sake of maintaining that peace.

And maybe it won’t turn out to be the worst decision Bumblebee’s ever made.

Chapter Summary:

“Ratchet recalls upper caste politics,” Soundwave stated. “Common event: mecha necessitating alliance despite personal distrust or past disagreements. Common solution?”

The medic sneered and replied, “Political spark bonding.”

|Prologue|Chapter 1|

"Autobots, you need to pull yourselves together."

"Pull ourselves together? How could we? How could you?!" Ratchet hissed as he threw his arm outward. "That's Optimus he was talking about in there!"

"I'm well aware." Ultra Magnus rubbed at his temples, his ventilations even, almost too even. Bumblebee wondered if the commander was using it as a coping mechanism. "However, this situation is far too important to allow ourselves to reveal any emotional vulnerability. Tensions are high, and if we wish to garner the support of Metalhawk, Discbrake, and Watts, we must prove ourselves to be more reasonable about this topic than the Decepticon councilmecha."

Arcee was frowning, her arms across his chest, and there were green paint transfers around her shoulders and helm still from where Discbrake had held her. Her cooling fans whirled as she finally relented, "I hate to say it, but he's right."

"Arcee!" Ratchet said, appalled. "Not you too."

"You know I never stopped wanting to rip Starscream’s smug helm from his frame, but that doesn't mean Ultra Magnus isn't right."

"But at this point, there will be no trial, no punishment -- we're already losing. At this rate, Megatron is going to be a free mech."

"Not if we can somehow overcome this outburst and make it clear we are better suited to keep Megatron under house arrest," Ultra Magnus stated.

That gave the other Bots pause.

"I'll admit, having my servos on him is an appealing thought," Ratchet murmured, said servos twitching at his sides.

"We will not be abusing that power," Ultra Magnus insisted, his tone final. "To even think that way will make us obvious and the fact of the matter is even if he is entrusted to us, I have no doubt that we will have to allow for some oversight to make sure we don't do just that."

"Yeah, yeah." Ratchet waved his servo dismissively.

“Where would we even keep him?" Arcee asked.

"Bulkhead said the construction on that new building is almost done," Bumblebee said. "It'll be one of the first to have apartments with a berthroom that’s separate from the living space. Maybe we ask for Megatron to stay here until it's ready and then set him up in there and take turns watching him? It's pretty far into our territory anyway so even if he made an escape, he'd just find himself surrounded by angry Autobots."

"It’s not a territory,” Ultra Magnus corrected again. “And while it doesn't seem like a plan that will last, it will do for the time being." Ultra Magnus scrubbed his servo down his face and huffed. "That is, if we can keep our composure."

Arcee made a motion as if welding her mouth shut and Bumblebee shrugged but nodded.

Ratchet, however, pressed his lips together in a tight line as his optics cycled, and Ultra Magnus simply waited for his response. Finally, with a heavy ventilation, Ratchet muttered, “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

"I appreciate it. I know this has been difficult for us all, and will continue to be," Ultra Magnus said, his frown sincere. His servos moved to clasp behind his back and he stood up straight. "However, we must stay focused and vigilant if we are to come out of this meeting knowing that Megatron will not be allowed to become a threat. Understood?”

Bumblebee nodded resolutely, and didn’t need to look at the other two to know they had done the same.

"So we're in agreement that the Decepticon representatives are not the ideal candidates for hosting Megatron?" Ultra Magnus said, holding up an open servo as he posed the question to the Neutrals. It only took a glance out of the corner of his optic for Bumblebee to see a small curl to Ratchet's mouth.

Still though, the other Autobots kept their silence as they waited. Arcee and Ratchet had stayed true to their word, only commenting when asked a question, but otherwise leaving Ultra Magnus to work with the Neutrals to suss out Starscream's proposition.

And to their luck, they weren't the only ones who had returned to the room wary of leaving Megatron with the Decepticons. Watts had almost immediately jumped back into the fray, discussing the sociological reasons why even with the two year gap, she doubted that being placed in proximity with the mech who had acted as their leader for millennia wouldn't affect them. Starscream pointing out that his loyalties to Megatron had always been uneasy at best did not help his position though.

"Which is why even if you don't fall back under his thumb again, we figure the other most likely result is a dead Megatron and that gets messy fast," Discbrake had replied with far too much ease for someone discussing political assassination.

But it spoke volumes to what all the others had thought.

And Starscream's wings flared only once before settling back, his mouth surprisingly staying shut about that statement.

Bumblebee could only guess at what Soundwave had told his fellow Cons to keep them under control. He suspected it might have been pretty similar to Ultra Magnus's speech.

The fear of the Decepticons falling under Megatron's command again was far too solid for the trio to argue against. The likelihood of revenge followed close behind too, leaving any arguments insisting they would not fall prey to the former leader's charisma all over again to inadvertently support the possibility of assassination instead.

So it wasn’t surprising when Metalhawk nodded.

But it did ease the vice grip that Bumblebee felt around his spark.

"I do not believe they would be a good host. Watts?"

"Agreed."

"Discbrake?"

"That's a group I don't want to see reunited, so yeah. Agreed."

"Then that's decided." Metalhawk folded his digits together as he watched the council for a reaction. Bumblebee kept his expression lax, though his pede lightly bounced under the table. Whatever the mech saw from his fellow Autobots seemed to appease him, for Metalhawk next turned to the Decepticons.

Soundwave of course revealed nothing, his visor still shifting to add data as it streamed in. And Shockwave was already difficult to read since he lacked typical cybertronian facial features.

Starscream was usually the way that Bumblebee deciphered the emotional stance of their trio. And, to his growing dread, the seeker appeared unsurprised and resigned.

A calm Starscream was a terrible sign.

But still, the Autobots waited for Ultra Magnus's lead. The Decepticons had been thwarted, but that didn't mean that victory would be easily gained.

"May I then ask how the council feels about house arrest as an option, assuming we did find a viable host?"

That got a raised optic ridge from Starscream.

"Do you truly believe we'll let you have him?"

"That is not what I asked," Ultra Magnus insisted. "I imagine that the discussion of who will host Megatron will be a long one, but the discussion that must be had before that is whether we believe house arrest to be a plan of action we wish to go down at all. Discussing who should host is pointless if we are not all agreed that house arrest is an option."

"Would house arrest appease the Autobots?" Discbrake was staring at Arcee and then Ratchet. The two glanced at each other and then at Ultra Magnus, but when the largest mech started to reply, Discbrake cut him off quickly. "I'm not asking you, Mag. I want to know what the rest of your gang thinks."

That actually had Ultra Magnus bristling, but he quelled his plating almost immediately. However, the stern look in his optics spoke volumes.

Arcee looked at Bumblebee first, and he was almost embarrassed as he lifted his servos and said, "I'm not going first."

That left Ratchet rolling his optics and before Arcee could silently ask him, the medic said, "Fine, fine, let’s just get this over with. I know my opinion doesn't hold official weight, but the fact that I was allowed at all implies that it's at least tolerated, so here it is." He uncrossed his arms and settled his elbows on the table, his servos moving as he spoke. "No, I don't like it. I think it's far more than Megatron deserves. But the fact of the matter is that this council has already gone over what I would want if it were just my decision and discarded those options for the sake of this city." His vents heaved a heavy ex-vent. "And as much as it pains me to admit, that's why I passed on a position on this council. I know I'm old and bitter, and the future of our race deserves better than that. And as much as other citizens of Iacon will share my great distaste for Megatron only receiving house arrest, I imagine they will also come to accept it knowing that it was a decision made for their benefit."

Bumblebee nearly choked on an ex-vent and even Arcee's optics were wide and bright with surprise.

Discbrake shrugged, but it was relaxed. She actually looked appeased, and down the line Watts nodded. "That's fair. What about you, Blue?"

Arcee went stiff as all optics turned to her. She shot Bumblebee a look before saying, "I don't like it either, but I also don't want to let Megatron scrap all the progress we've made. I'm willing to support house arrest as long as he's placed in the right servos."

“And whose servos would those be?” Starscream drawled as he drummed his claw tips across the table surface. Arcee shot him a dark look.

Bumblebee cut that argument off at the start, interrupting, “I don’t think anybody I know would be happy about it. Lot of mecha have wanted him dead since even before the war, so it won’t be easy. But for better or worse, they’ve trusted us enough to make decisions like this, so that has to mean something, right?”

That got a rare smile from Metalhawk. “Very true,” he said as he glanced at Discbrake and then to Watts. With a nod from both, he continued, “Then I would motion for this council to discuss candidates for hosting.”

Bumblebee started to wonder if the idea had come up because they were all so deliriously exhausted from the meeting dragging on and on.

The conversation had started with the Autobots as a host, though not because of any choice Ultra Magnus had in the matter. He was insistent that they were not looking to take the position, but would and do so honorably if they were needed. Bumblebee would have considered teasing Ultra Magnus afterwards about playing hard to get if he thought the former lieutenant understood the usual meaning of the phrase, but the fact still stood that that's exactly what Ultra Magnus was trying to pull off.

However, Starscream was having none of it. He has more than happy to return the earlier favor of pointing out every time he had attempted to assassinate his former master, interrupting now and again to describe the numerous attempts the Autobots had made themselves. It was when Ultra Magnus started to describe some precautions they could take that Starscream pointedly stared at Bumblebee and stated, "If I cannot be trusted for trying to kill the lunatic, then I cannot see how the mech who succeeded can be."

Bumblebee gave his companions a chagrined look as the Neutrals agreed.

However, there wasn't much footing to be had with having a neutral host either. Oh, there were suggestions, but they were relatively few once both Arcee and Starscream pointed out that Megatron would need to be watched by someone who could stand a chance in a fight with him. That left the list of Neutrals pitifully short, and even those who remained were either more similar to guards on their various nomadic ships or they had been in war, but it had been the one before the civil war, meaning it had been millennia upon millennia since they had been in active combat.

Which cycled back towards reconsidering Cons and Bots, and recycled the arguments against them.

And that's when Soundwave finally spoke.

“Observation: no candidates suitable for house arrest as currently described. Easily obtained trait: warrior. However, candidates who meet that trait: Decepticons and Autobots. Difficulty found in identifying a host in candidate pool who meets two more necessary traits.” Soundwave’s visor brightened to show the number one. “Candidate does not support Megatron, will keep him imprisoned and powerless.” The visor shifted to the number two. “Candidate does not wish to harm or offline Megatron, will keep him healthy and safe from adversaries.”

“So we’re basically fragged from the start,” Discbrake grumbled.

However, Soundwave shook his helm once.

“Traits do not occur naturally together. However: in warrior candidate with trait one, trait two can be implanted.”

Even Starscream looked appalled though, unsurprisingly, for the wrong reason as he snapped at his companion, “Have you finally glitched? You want to hand him over to an Autobot?!”

“Even if it were not unethical,” Shockwave added, the glyph sounding wrong from his voicebox, “there has never been success in the precise level of reprogramming you are suggesting. Your suggestion is illogical.”

“And it’s sick,” Arcee hissed, and even from where he sat, Bumblebee could hear the way her battle systems whirred, trying to online themselves. “I guess you’ve never really changed, have you?”

Bumblebee, however, watched Soundwave and waited. There had to be some explanation. While he had little doubt that Soundwave still held the Decepticon cause close to this spark, this was out of character for him. Soundwave would know the response such a suggestion would garner, should know better than to say something like that aloud—

It was Ratchet who finally said, “You don’t mean reprogramming, do you?” Soundwave shook his helm again and Ratchet’s frown only deepened. “So you’re really suggesting what I think you are?”

“Ratchet recalls upper caste politics,” Soundwave stated. “Common event: mecha necessitating alliance despite personal distrust or past disagreements. Common solution?”

The medic sneered and replied, “Political spark bonding.”

"What?" Bumblebee asked, not quite sure what he was hearing. The words separately made sense, but together it was meaningless concept.

The other mecha around the table did not seem as confused.

"You've got to be kidding," Arcee said, dumbstruck. "Political spark bonding? With Megatron?"

"It does make an odd sort of sense," Watts said, her helm tilted to one side and her optics dimmed, as if still processing the idea. "It would indeed achieve the desired effect, and did show high success rates at the time."

"When it didn't end in murder-suicide," Ratchet grit out. "It may force two mecha together and usually to give a scrap about the other’s well being. However, when things go poorly, they go very poorly."

"Only for those with some silly idea that it could turn into something meaningful," Starscream said, his tone as close to unsure as he dared in a meeting, as if he was still considering his true opinion on the matter while debating it. "For those going into the political bond understanding its purpose and who could figure out how to exist with one another, it worked well."

"As if you would really know. You may have strolled your way around the Vosian upper caste, but from what I understand, your trine was an easy arrangement.” Starscream’s wings twitched and he looked stricken at the mention of mecha long lost. If Ratchet noticed, he didn’t care. “You’d be amazed what other mecha hid behind shut doors and paid mecha like me to sneak in and fix so they could keep up the ruse." Ratchet leaned back in his chair and turned his optics on Soundwave. "But you know better."

"Potential consequences: understood. However, potential consequences if political bonding not pursued as a solution: also understood."

"While it isn't ideal, Soundwave is correct." Watts straightened and her optics glowed brighter, her processor made up. "It would not only provide motivation for Megatron's host to keep him online and well, but would also help to dissuade outside attacks from those who are upset about the decision. Any mecha who would like to see Megatron offlined might not want to see the same happen to his host, and thus would not risk an assassination."

"It would also provide an excellent cover story," Starscream said, his wings spread out wide behind him in a show of pageantry, as if his moment of weakness were nothing. "The decision wouldn't even need to be traced back to us! While it might be difficult to spin, we could present the city with this bonding ceremony instead of house arrest. We do not appear to be breaking the treaty because it will simply look as if we have given Megatron his 'freedom', but also the city is put at least partially at ease knowing that Megatron appears to be a changed mech – a bonded mech at that, chained to and placated by someone they trust."

"Don't even bother trying to put yourself up as a candidate." Arcee locked her gaze on his face, sneering. "In case you've forgotten, you're not someone who's trusted to not support Megatron."

Those wings shot straight up in agitation. "I would never--"

"You've flopped back and forth enough times that nobody could ever be sure how you felt about Megatron at any given time," Ratchet pointed out. "And I wouldn't be surprised if a bonding would just finally cement you as his pet."

Starscream hissed, but stopped himself when Soundwave lifted a servo.

"Ratchet: correct. Decepticons: will not be trusted as bond partners. Neutrals: have no warriors powerful enough. Autobots: best option."

"Ok, that's the weirdest thing I've ever heard come out of you, but I'm willing to ignore that for now," Arcee said. "But I will bring back up my question of who the frag do you think is going to agree to a political spark bond?"

That left the room silent. Bumblebee glanced at his companions – Ratchet was frowning, but he was oddly subdued, almost defeated looking, and Ultra Magnus had still not said a word, his optics nearly offlined as his processor ran fast enough that Bumblebee could have sworn he could hear it.

Finally, cautiously, he asked, "Well, first, maybe someone could tell me what exactly we would be agreeing to?"

Watts was the one who took pity, turning to Bumblebee with a soft look as she said, "Political spark bonding is a practice that long became extinct with the collapse of the senate and the upper castes. Every case was unique, but essentially it is a spark bonding between mecha that is done not out of love, but out of political necessity.”

“How does becoming spark bonded help anything?”

“It leaves two mecha stuck together,” Ratchet replied, interrupting Watts without any apparent guilt. Ratchet shifted in his seat so he was better facing Bumblebee, as if this were just another lesson, but his voice was pitched loud enough that it was for everyone in the room. “Whether the mecha involved want to bond at all doesn’t change the connection that is forged. Once sparks are bonded, they are able to find and influence each other across distances, and the fate of one spark is shared with the other.”

“I know how spark bonds work,” Bumblebee grumbled.

“Yet you’re naïve enough to not see how they can be used for less romantic endeavors,” Starscream taunted. He was focused on his claws, flexing and unravelling. “If you must have an alliance with another who you and your House do not trust, what better way to make sure they cannot double cross you than to have direct access to their very spark? To know at all times where they are and how they feel?” With an audible clacking, Starscream clenched his fist and glanced at Bumblebee. “It’s comforting to know that if they stabbed you in the back, you would just drag them to the Allspark with you.”

Bumblebee fought back a shudder. “But they have that same access to your spark, so they would have that same ability to use the bond against you.”

“A risk that many have foolishly believed they could handle,” Ratchet replied, shooting Starscream an irritated look. Starscream shrugged.

“Nothing gained without risk.”

“And it is, unfortunately, the most logical solution to the predicament,” Shockwave added. “Any Autobot who takes on the task will not support Megatron, so there is little risk of him returning to power. With a spark bond, they will be able to track his location and monitor him. That same spark bond will also enforce the need for the Autobot to keep Megatron alive, since his death will mean their own. And their fellow Autobots will be too sentimental to risk their life in their search for revenge.”

Ultra Magnus finally spoke up, his tone definitive. “The risk is still too great to the host in this case. Megatron is strong-willed and clever, so he could overwhelm and dominate the bond.”

Discbrake leaned across the table towards Ultra Magnus as she asked, “So, wait – you really don’t want Megatron under Autobot control?”

“In this case, the question of who does not matter. There is no bot alive who has any experience that could prepare them for that sort of connection with Megatron, so--”

“I do.”

Bumblebee’s shoulders hunched when, suddenly, every optic in the room was on him. Regret immediately bloomed in his spark, unsure if he should have brought it up at all. It had just come out though, voicing a realization, and it was too late to take it back. And something did have to be done about Megatron, and this was possibly the best lead they had because finally the majority of them were in agreement, and—

And he was telling the truth.

“I mean, it wasn’t a spark bond, obviously, but I have been in his mind,” Bumblebee began, forcing his frame to relax, to not make the way anxiety was creeping along his lines obvious. When the Neutrals’ optics went wide in response to his statement though, he quickly added, “Megatron was in stasis, they had the stuff for a cortical psych patch, and we needed a cure for Optimus – it’s a long story and during the war, but yeah. I’ve been in his mind and I was able to get what I wanted from him.”

“I can verify the story,” Ratchet stated, his optics narrowed and his plating flared, “but you’re leaving out that Megatron then manipulated you into doing his bidding and bringing him out of stasis.”

“Well, sure,” Bumblebee admitted with a wince. As if he could ever forget the sensation of losing control of his frame and blacking out, Megatron’s voice echoing in the darkness, nearly egging him on to crush his friend—“But that means that I’d know when he’s trying to do something like that again, right?”

“Bee,” Arcee snapped. “Do you even realize what you’re saying right now? We’re talking about spark bonding. With Megatron.”

It felt as if his spark was trapped in a vice grip and pulsing all the faster for it. Bumblebee felt sick. Yet with each pulse of his spark, he was pushed further.

“I know that. But if this means Megatron is no longer a threat and we can keep the peace--”

“No! Absolutely not!” Ratchet’s fist slammed down on the table, his optics too bright as he practically seethed next to Bumblebee, worry ebbing off his frame. “After all that Megatron has done to you, I wouldn’t let you even be in the same room as him, let alone – this!”

“He did a lot of things to a lot of mecha! I’m not a special case.”

“I have already nearly lost you twice to that monster!” Ratchet’s voice wavered with static, his servos fisted on the table surface. Bumblebee knew the medic held that guilt tightly even after all these years. “He left you with a malfunctioning voicebox for centuries!”

As if on cue, Bumblebee’s voicebox locked up at the memory.

His intake impossibly tight, the phantom touch of giant servos gripped around it, piercing and crushing, and the sound of his own scream turned to static turned to silence echoing in his processor. His voicebox hiccupped, popping with static as he recalled years of nothing but binary coming out of it, and the looks of surprise and horror and pity it earned him, the shame that welled in his spark--

"Bumblebee will not be the host and that's final."

"Agreed," Arcee said, her arms crossed over her chest. "I'll offline before I vote for that."

"I will also have to agree. As I stated, there is no one that I would feel comfortable giving this duty."

Bumblebee's spark ebbed against the vice grip.

"I could do it though."

There was a quiet chuckle that had seeker written all over it from across the table, but Bumblebee didn't have time to deal with it. Not with his companions all looking at him with varying degrees of frustration and worry on their faces.

Frustration with his naiveté, or his age, or stubbornness, or all three no doubt; worry for the very same reasons.

"No," Ratchet replied, flustered and upset. "He damaged you and killed you and—and I will not allow you to give him your spark!"

Shame sparked into indignation.

"Ok, but are we all forgetting that I killed him too?” Bumblebee asked as he pushed his pedes, his palms flat on the table still. “And you know what? When I did, it stuck. He sank to the bottom of the ocean, gun metal grey, and the only reason he’s still walking around is because of literal divine intervention. So if one of us should be afraid of the other, he should be afraid of me."

“So what?” Arcee snapped, standing up as well so that only Ratchet’s still-seated frame separated them. “So you’re even or something? It doesn’t work that way, Bee. Killing him doesn’t erase what he did.”

"Nothing that any of us did can be erased!" Bumblebee said, throwing his servos out to indicating the rest of the council. "Seven of us have actively tried to offline each other for millennia, and the other three had to leave our home planet so that they didn't get caught in the crossfire. Yet we can all still sit here and try to run a city. I think if I can stand to sit at a table with Starscream, I can find it in me to play house with Megatron.”

"This isn't just politics we're talking about, Bumblebee!" Ratchet's servo slapped against his own chest, palm above where his spark lay as he moved to stand, looming over Bumblebee. "You aren't agreeing to simply keep an eye on him! You would be agreeing to being tied to him at the most intimate level mecha can be connected. You would be giving away any ability to lead a life that isn't intimately tangled with Megatron's."

Bumblebee's tanks roiled at the thought, but he continued, anger fueling him, "I’m not an idiot, Ratch. I understand what I’m offering. But somebody has to give it up, right? If it’s not me, then it’s going to be some other poor mech who has no idea what Megatron’s like, which makes no sense.” He moved his servo to lightly bump against his chest, his pedes shifting a little wider to strengthen his stance. “If I'm the best mech for the job, then why shouldn't I be the one to do it?"

"Because Megatron and his fate are not your personal responsibility," Ultra Magnus interrupted, and for the first time that evening, there was genuine upset coloring his tone. Bumblebee turned to find the mech towering over him. "We serve the people of this city, and we work through our own personal hardships for them, but that does not mean that you must sacrifice so much when there are other options."

"What other options?" Bumblebee challenged.

That dropped like bomb on his side of the table. Ultra Magnus’s face pinched but he did not have an immediate reply. Nothing but rumbling engines came from Ratchet or Arcee either.

Given a few more seconds, Bumblebee was sure they would have rallied. The argument could have gone on for hours, given how stubborn all four of them were.

However, that was when Metalhawk stood and audibly cleared his voicebox. “Arcee, Ratchet,” he said, staring at each in turn, though his gaze lingered on Bumblebee for a moment before moving on, “and Ultra Magnus. I request that you all take your seats and show respect for Bumblebee as a councilmech. He has a right as much as any of us to present his idea in full before it is voted on, and I for one would like to hear what he has to say.”

“Seconded,” Starscream said, a lazy smirk on his lips. However, his optics were blinding in their brightness and focus on Bumblebee. “I’m very curious.”

“I see no reason to go down this path of discussion when we have not decided if political spark bonding is even a feasible option--”

“You are welcome to voice your concerns after Bumblebee is finished,” Metalhawk interrupted. Not a single plate shifted under the heated look Ultra Magnus gave him. However, the large mech finally sat. Metalhawk turned his attention next to Arcee. “And the same to you, Arcee.”

Arcee sneered, her engine growling softly. She turned to look at Bumblebee then, and said quietly, “Don’t do this, Bee.”

A flicker of guilt came and went before Bumblebee shook his helm. “Sorry.”

With a huff of her vents, Arcee sat with her arms crossed over her chest. Bumblebee had no doubt she was planning her argument, ready for her turn.

Finally, there was just Ratchet. Warily, Bumblebee lifted his gaze, and the guilt was back when he saw how distressed the medic was.

“I won’t let you do this.”

“Ratchet--”

“I won’t! If this is the only option then – then I will bond with him myself! If that’s what it will take then let me--!”

“Ratchet.” Bumblebee raised a servo to grab Ratchet’s arm, tightening his hold reassuringly. It was hard to tell which of them was trembling. “Please.” Both – it was both of them. “Trust me.”

Ratchet’s face crumpled, optics flickering.

“I can’t watch you do this.”

“Then don’t.”

Ratchet’s engine sputtered.

And then he turned, away from Bumblebee and away from the table, breaking Bumblebee’s hold. Bumblebee let him go. The swish of the door opening and closing was all that announced Ratchet’s departure.

“And to think that I’ve been accused of being dramatic.”

Bumblebee couldn’t keep his engine for revving as he shot Starscream a dark look. He didn’t rise to the bait though, just shifted so he was facing the rest of the council.

Metalhawk was watching him. They all were, in fact. Neutrals, Decepticons, and Autobots alike were staring at him expectantly, and the reality of what he was doing set in.

“The floor is yours, Bumblebee.”

“Uh, thanks, Metalhawk,” Bumblebee said before resetting his voicebox. He had never actually made a proposition in the council himself. Comments, retorts, agreements – those were easy. But presenting and defending his own idea?

He felt like he was actually doing something worthwhile.

“Obviously this isn’t something I want to do, but considering how long we’ve all been sat here arguing about things we can’t do with Megatron, I think this is something that has to be done by somebody. There’s no point in going back to earlier ideas when we’re just going to have the same arguments and end up back here again. Plus, the longer we wait to tell the city what’s happening, the more suspicious they’ll be about whatever choice we make, and—and they deserve better than that.” Bumblebee’s servos were twitching at his sides, and nothing he could do would still them. The council was quiet though, they were listening to him, and that was equal parts terrifying and thrilling. “If political spark bonding can keep the peace while making sure that Megatron isn’t a threat, then we should do it. And if an Autobot is the best choice to make sure both of those happen, then I—”

Bumblebee’s spark pulsed hard enough to hurt.

“—I think I would be the best Bot for the job.”

“Because you went swimming around in his helm?” Discbrake asked, sounding unconvinced.

“I mean, it was more than that,” Bumblebee argued. “I was inside his mind and I was able to make a deal with him based on what I figured out about him.”

“You spoke with him?” Watts looked intrigued, her servos folded and her chin propped on them.

Bumblebee nodded. “Yeah. I hadn’t planned on it, but he realized pretty quick I was in there, so I had to talk to him to figure out how to get the cure from him.”

“Which you apparently did successfully,” Metalhawk stated. When Bumblebee nodded again, he continued, “Just from talking?”

“Kinda?” Bumblebee winced, wishing he could take back the unsure tone. “I mean, I did, but it’s more than that. I was a scout my whole life until recently, so I’m pretty good at reading mecha. I don’t know Megatron as well as the Cons, but he’s not exactly a hard mech to figure out.” With a shrug, he quickly added, “Once you figure ‘em out, it’s easier to use ‘em.”

“That’s awfully sneaky for a mere scout,” Starscream said, his helm tilted ever so slightly to one side. He almost looked impressed.

Bumblebee couldn’t help a small grin thinking about his years under Jazz’s tutelage. “I was trained by the best.”

“So you have training and experience in your favor,” Starscream continued, his optics narrowing on the warrior. “But what makes you think that anyone outside this room would believe you would choose to bond with Megatron?”

“Uh. Right.” Bumblebee grimaced and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s kind of hard to come up with a cover story when I don’t even know what Megatron has been up to or why he’s here, you know?”

“Indeed. A logical cover story will need collaboration between both parties,” Shockwave agreed.

“Reason for volunteering?”

Bumblebee felt a shiver race down his backstruts as he looked at Soundwave. The mech still looked so calm, plating lax as his visor continued to filter data coming in from Laserbeak’s surveillance. The dots were spreading. There wasn’t likely a single mech in the city who hadn’t heard the news by now.

Why was he doing this?

“Well, somebody has to, don’t they?”

“Megatron: crushed Bumblebee’s intake, online solely due to medical assistance. Bumblebee: left permanently damaged. Bumblebee: entered Megatron’s mind, tricked him, left him for dead. Megatron: took over Bumblebee’s mind to save own life. Megatron: offlined Bumblebee. Bumblebee: offlined Megatron. Autobot companions: visibly upset over prospect of spark bonding.”  Soundwave’s visor went blank, and there was no way to see his optics through it, but Bumblebee swore he could feel the other’s heated stare. “Conclusion: Bumblebee hates Megatron; Bumblebee and Megatron are incompatible. So, question is repeated: reason for volunteering?”

Bumblebee grimaced, his processor racing to find something, anything to answer the question. It wasn’t readily available though.

It had just happened, just a realization that he had the skills, had the ability, had the experience. Then there was indignation and slighted pride because they thought he couldn't do it, that there was no way he could handle Megatron, that they thought he was too young/stupid/weak to handle that bucket of bolts. He had had to prove to them that he could!

But it was true. Bumblebee hated Megatron. From the day he was forged, Megatron was enemy number one, and he had never done anything to persuade Bumblebee otherwise. The former warlord still haunted the darkest corners of his mind.

But someone had to take responsibility for Megatron. Someone had to make the sacrifice for the sake of everyone else.

Despite everything that Megatron had done -- all the lives he had ruined and ended including Bumblebee's own -- someone had to open their spark to him to keep the peace.

Someone had to accept Megatron into their life.

"Because it's what Optimus would do."

The room was utterly silent as, slowly, Soundwave nodded.

"Acceptable."

"Bond?"

Bumblebee nodded as he shifted awkwardly on his pedes. "Spark bond specifically."

Megatron stared down at him warily, his optics cycling with thought.

"A political spark bond."

"Yep."

"To what end?" Megatron asked. There was nothing aggressive about how he spoke or in his expression, but Bumblebee still felt as if he was about to be reprimanded. "Surely I am considered a criminal."

"Things would be much simpler if you were," Bumblebee admitted. "But no. Anyone who was in the war has been forgiven for any crimes committed during it, and unfortunately that includes you."

Of all things, that only made Megatron frown deeper. "Excused of war crimes?"

Bumblebee shrugged, hoping that maintaining a casual exterior might actually fool Megatron. "You try running a planet when two thirds of it hate each other and the last third blames them both for what happened. We nearly fell back into civil war more times than anyone really wants to think about."

Megatron hummed nearly inaudibly at that, optics cycling with thought as he turned away from Bumblebee for a moment. Pacing must have been common practice among the Decepticon higher ups, considering the former warlord didn’t seem to think anything of his pede steps across the small cell and then turning to walk back where he had come from. Unlike Starscream’s near prancing during meetings though, each of Megatron’s steps were slow and measured, and his servos were clasped behind his back.

“I see. I had assumed that between my departure and your being Cybertron’s saviors, the Autobots would not face opposition to their control, even if only temporarily,” Megatron said, more thinking aloud than anything until his optics focused on Bumblebee’s again, “but apparently I assumed incorrectly.”

Bumblebee felt frustration burn in his chassis, a familiar outrage that their sacrifices were often accepted as only making up for what the war had done at best.

“Yeah, you did.”

Megatron tilted his helm at the bitter tone. “Interesting. So you decided to give everyone a legal blank slate? To what end?"

"We didn't really want to do a trial for every last mech on this planet, so it got them out of our wiring. Without having the government on their side, any actions they took would be seen as crimes against other citizens, not revenge, so it could land them in trouble. So things eventually quieted down.” Bumblebee shifted on his pedes again, and alright, maybe he could see the appeal in pacing. He decided to keep his pedes firmly on the ground though. “It’s not ideal, but at least this way everyone just lives with their own kind and tolerates the others’ existences.”

Megatron did not reply right away, his pacing coming to a slow stop in front of Bumblebee, his optic ridges creased together with thought. When realization seemed to settle in, his frown only deepened.

"You cannot punish me for fear of raising chaos amongst the population again."

"Got it in one. We need to keep you under control, but have it look voluntary to everyone else so they don’t get any ideas."

"Thus, political spark bonding." Megatron's frown finally shifted to a small, sardonic smirk. "Clever. I wouldn't have thought the Autobots capable of such a scheme."

"Technically it was Soundwave's idea."

Megatron's optics went wide, his plating shifting and rattling for a moment. "Soundwave? My Soundwave?"

"Long story, but yeah."

It was intimidating to have those piercing red optics so focused on him, as if trying to pick apart every detail, looking for answers that Bumblebee wasn't giving. And, truthfully, Bumblebee should have taken the chance to explain what had happened – to explain everything that had happened, the chaos of returning refugees, the tension of Autobots and Decepticons having to share a city again, how the council was formed and very quickly the Autobots had their power slip through their digits as Neutrals insisted on an evenly split council to represent all of the citizens, all while trying to keep everything under control so reconstruction could continue so there would even be a place for returning mecha to live--

Bumblebee's tanks roiled at the thought of having to spend that much time with Megatron. He would have to deal with it eventually though, considering he was facing a lifetime with the former warlord.

Maybe that was what made it all the worst.

Luckily, that was when Knockout called down the hall, "You almost done proposing down there? If we have a spark bonding ceremony in the future, then it's about time I be allowed to see the conjunx to be and make sure he’s looking appropriately pretty."

Bumblebee's plating flared, surprised by the other mech and flustered by the comment. At least there was relief to be found in seeing Megatron's plating flare as well, though Bumblebee couldn’t help noticing some pieces moving oddly, stiffly, and some not reacting at all.

The once fearsome warlord was, indeed, in need of a medic.

“Just a second!” Bumblebee called back, barely glancing down the hallway at Knockout before his focus was back on Megatron. It felt wrong to let the warlord out of his sight regardless of the barrier between them. After a ventilation cycle, he said to Megatron, "Look, you don't have to decide right now. I'll be back later to explain the specifics--"

"Will my agreement keep the peace?"

Bumblebee went still, staring with wide optics. Megatron’s plating had settled back into a neutral position though, and his expression gave nothing away. The autobot might as well have been trying to interpret the emotional response of a wall for all that he could glean from Megatron. Warily, he replied, "Well, it's the best plan we got, so I fragging hope so."

Megatron was studying him so closely that it made Bumblebee's spark thunder in its casing.

"Why you, scout?"

"I told you, I agreed to it--"

"But why?" Megatron stood straight upright, utilizing every bit of their size difference to tower over the small grounder. "We both know what I've done to you, never mind what I’ve done to your comrades and companions, and yet,” he said, his helm tilting just a fraction, “you come offering to tie your spark to mine."

Bumblebee scowled, and spat out, "Because I'm the best mech for the job." He stepped up closer to the barrier, armor flared wide, door wings raised high and aggressive. "You threw your best at me and I survived." He lifted his chin up, revealing his neck in a show of bravery he didn't feel all the way to the core of his spark, but far enough that he could convince himself to not hide it away again. "Apparently offlining you wasn’t enough, so I'm willing to do what it does take to make sure you never hurt anyone else ever again."

Then, of all things, Megatron smiled.

"Very well then. So long as you are doing this of your own volition and it benefits the city, then I accept your arrangement."

Bumblebee, to his chagrin, felt his jaw drop.

"What—really? Just like that? I've barely told you anything."

Megatron shrugged, his frame shifting before he started pacing again. It was a momentary relief to have those optics off of him. "You are more than welcome to tell me all the sordid details later, but I do not imagine that they will have any influence on my decision. I have all the information that I need." When he turned on his pedes, he had that weirdly fond look on his face again. "Who better to keep me in line than the scout who has always foiled my plans?"

"Warrior."

Megatron's optic ridges lifted at that, and then he was slowly walking towards Bumblebee again. Intimidation did not keep Bumblebee from continuing to blurt out, "I'm not just a scout anymore. I'm a warrior."

Megatron's grin grew.

"A title well deserved."

"Uh, thanks," Bumblebee replied after a beat of confused silence, too surprised to think of anything better to say, and regretting it as soon as he had said it. Embarrassed, he glanced back down the hall where Knockout was waiting, leaned against a wall. It was only the momentary flicker of one optic that clued him into the fact that the medic had winked at him.

Bumblebee looked back at Megatron and cleared his voicebox awkwardly.

"It's late and you clearly need some medical attention," he started, noting the irritation that was there and then gone again from Megatron's expression at the allusion to the state of his frame, "so I'll just go. I'll be back tomorrow."

Megatron nodded. "I suspect I'll be seeing a lot of you, little warrior."

Bumblebee barely held back a shudder as he turned away from Megatron and quickly made his escape down the hallway.

Knockout was watching him, nodding his only form of greeting before he jumped right in. "Any requests for your beautiful conjunx to be?" He squawked at the shove Bumblebee gave him, and sniped, "Sorry for trying to lighten the mood."

Bumblebee still felt full to bursting with agitated energy, but he managed to ex-vent and reply, "It's fine. As long as he doesn't have any weapons, he can look however he wants."

"How flexible of you," Knockout said as he finally straightened. "When I heard the news, I had assumed you would be a much stricter warden, given your history together and all. How lucky for Megatron."

Bumblebee's spark clenched tightly in his chest. "I'm not a ‘warden.’"

Knockout shrugged, replying as one servo carefully reached out to touch Bumblebee’s arm, "Your job is to keep him locked away in some apartment and compliant. We can call it political spark bonding all we like, but we both know it's far less romantic than that."

His tanks felt twisted with disgust, but Bumblebee had no response to that. He shrugged Knockout's servo away and muttered, "Just fix him up" before leaving.

[renaroo]

Prime Wreck

Disclaimer: Transformers, Transformers Prime, and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence Rating: T Prompt: ( @the-heroic-changeling ) In a great battle Optimus has been horrible injured, his head torn clean off. To save his spark Ratchet/Fixit come up with a plan to link Optimus to a human, to strengthen his spark and systems, and to try to replicate the hybrid of Cylas. Unfortunately, the only human who could survive the treatment is the now-Wrecker barely-an-adult Miko Nakadai, due to her long term exposure to Energon. And so Optimus becomes a Powermaster/Headmaster with Miko “Apex” Nakadai as his partner. Shenanigans ensue.…Look I’ve read through some of the original Headmasters, a lot of them were terrible matches. Mindwipe for instance. And I mean the Leader Class Optimus comes with a partner named “"Apex,” it works. And this would be really hilarious. :)

A/N: This was actually a lot of fun to play with and I really like the idea! I hope you don’t mind me using RiD timeline for this, it just seemed to fit more naturally with it. 

One time they had looked at Ratchet and told him his hands were capable of miracles. 

He didn’t care much for that, what he did took ingenuity and work and an ability to react with the sort of quick wit that could only come from years of warborn instincts. It undermined the profession, and nothing could put his circuits in a twist quite like undermining the work of a doctor.

Still, in his aging state, Ratchet found himself thinking a lot about the time they almost lost little Raf. How useless he had been with a creature so precious and feeble. 

He would almost thank the AllSpark for June Darby.

Humans in many ways were so much more delicate than Cybertronians. Ratchet had performed “miracles”, but that seemed so much less impressive when he had reconstructed Ultra Magnus’ hand with spare parts, when he had saved Bumblebee from having his voicebox ripped from his throat. 

There was so much they could endure as Cybertronians. 

He knew that. But he also knew that living on Earth for all those years had taught him that in some ways, they could only live in these days in thanks to humankind...

Miko had missed home. 

She wasn’t sure when Japan stopped being home, but she knew well enough that it had everything to do with the feeling of belonging that came with friendships that lasted a lifetime, helping to save the world, and the complete awesomeness that was being a Wrecker and fighting alongside kick butt transforming robot aliens. 

The very thought of it made her ache all over. Especially for Bulkhead. Especially Bulkhead. 

When she wasn’t selfish, she understood why she had not seen from the gang in years. When she wasn’t selfish she knew that Bulkhead especially had a huge role on the new Cybertron -- being in charge of the very reconstruction of their world and culture. 

In those rare, unselfish moments, she could not be prouder of her partner. Of her fellow Wrecker.

But those times seemed few and far between. 

After returning to Japan, she finished secondary school, and then university. She was a perfect student again, cut the died tips from her hair, played the violin. Was the pride and joy of the Nakadai household. 

And she was empty.

Until she was sent a link in an email from Raf and saw a news report. 

It was from a tabloid, laughable at best, but it mentioned real Monster Cars destroying a Monster Truck arena in some midwestern American city called Crown City. 

They feverishly messaged back and forth about the possibilities of it, what it could mean, did it mean anything at all, how much Miko missed American concerts and frivolous destructiveness like Monster Truck rallies.

She tried very hard to ignore that cc on each message was Jack, who hadn’t responded a single time. 

It was all jokes and hypotheticals when, seemingly from nowhere, Miko sent her last response by phone as she prepared to board the next flight from Tokyo International Airport on her way to Crown City.

I’m drawn to it, was the only explanation she gave Raf before boarding. 

Optimus watched the team from a distance. Being within sight, but away from the team was the closest to personal time that he got those days. 

Since his return, it had seemed as though he could not escape Bumblebee or Windblade trailing him. There seemed to be either overt concern for him or an overt need to seek approval. 

The latter had been afforded to him far less since Bumblebee came to seemingly resent Optimus’ ability to take charge of his team. 

Logically, Optimus knew he was right. But, Optimus still found that to be a hard pill to swallow. 

“You’re doing it again. You really should let me tune up your processor,” Ratchet offered, walking up from the Alchemor’s main deck. He had extended his visit upon realizing that Optimus was with Bumblebee’s team.

The Prime could not help but sense that at least in part his stay had to do with the disruptiveness of Bumblebee and Optimus’ relationship that had been on display as of late. 

“What is it that I am doing so egregiously, old friend?” Optimus asked Ratchet tiredly. 

“Looking at the others like you’re a peg that doesn’t fit,” Ratchet explained, crossing his arms across his chest. “You always act like that, but it never bothered you so much before.”

Humming, Optimus allowed his gaze to drift back from Ratchet to Bumblebee’s team. “I suppose there is truth... Since I took up the responsibility of the Primes and the Matrix of Leadership, I have accepted that socially I have few peers. That as a leader, I must be apart from the followers at times. But I always knew, even without belonging, where my place ultimately lied.”

Ratchet frowned before letting out a long vent. “Well, the AllSpark knows I’m not exactly a bot to answer on social matters, but I like to think of myself as a decent friend to at least one other bot.”

Optimus looked to him and allowed a soft smile. “And you are.”

“Our team still exists on Cybertron,” Ratchet continued. “Team Prime. Our family. Bee’s here, sure. And he’s got a duty here. But the rest of us still have places. Still have a place for our Prime.” He looked worriedly toward Optimus. “If you could just tell me why you can’t go back to Cybertron...”

“I cannot explain it, Ratchet,” Optimus sighed. “I simply know it is not the time. There is something else on Earth I must do before I can--”

No sooner had the words left his vocalizer than the junkyard’s alarm system went off loudly around them and the intercom from he Alchemor turned on to Fixit’s distinctively shrill voice. 

“Team Bee! There’s an emergency in the pretty! -- bitty! --” A loud clank echoed followed by a familiar FZZZT. “CITY! Multiple Decepticons are moving in what looks like an uncoordinated effort! You’ll need to get moving immediately!” 

“Alright, everyone!” Bumblebee called. “Rev up and roll out!”

There was no hesitation from Bumblebee’s team as they did just that. Even the might Grimlock loading himself onto a trailer obediently after hitching it to Strongarm. 

“Maybe you and I should continue this conversation,” Ratchet said over Optimus’ shoulder. “Give Bee some space, this sounds like the sort of threat his team’s been handling without us for a while anyway.”

Optimus looked back to Ratchet before transforming. “While I know my time on Earth has its reason, I do not know the time nor the place. I must be prepared to be anywhere, and at any time, Ratchet. It’s my duty as--”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” Ratchet sighed and transformed himself. Let me run the sirens so none of us have to deal with po--”

Strongarm’s own sirens lit up as she led the team behind Bumblebee.

“Ugh. Sparklings, so enthusiastic,” Ratchet grumbled as he and Optimus rolled out together.

Miko was many things, but patient was not one of them.

Upon entering Crown City, she anticipated immediately being faced with giant robots, a thunderous clamor of battle -- and maybe, just maybe, some familiar faces among them all. 

What she got was a lot of traffic and a lot of people moving in lines far more disorganized than those in Tokyo.

“Agh, this is ridic!” the Wrecker groaned before pulling out her phone to look for any messages. 

It wasn’t her new phone, the one she had been gifted with in her second year of university. It wasn’t the one she used day to day -- it was the old, pink flip phone, ornaments and all, from her time living in Jasper, Nevada. 

She wasn’t sure why she was so intent on bringing the old thing -- it hadn’t had service paid for it in at least four years. But there was a part of her -- the part remembering how useful it had been so many times to her friends -- her fellow Autobots -- that somehow just knew that it could have some use to her yet. 

Perhaps some signal from it was still on their range. Maybe it was something Bulkhead, if he were on Earth, would try to reach her through. 

Possibly. Maybe. She hoped. 

But as she got it out, swarmed by the human traffic of Crown City, Miko found that it was getting her nothing. 

“Guh,” she huffed before holding the phone open. “If only I were techy. Like Raf. Maybe I can call Raf and he can tell me something techy! Or tell me if he’s heard from Jack and Fowler. They’d have to know what was going on if the Autobots were here.”

She stopped talking to herself as she heard a low rumble and felt the Earth shake. She had felt earthquakes enough times before that she instantly could distinguish the difference in the feeling. 

Despite being surrounded by clueless people, Miko dropped down to her haunches and felt over the sidewalk with her hand and hummed to herself. “My alien-looking instincts think something big is going on!” she said excitedly before popping back up to her feet and looking back and forth. Her eyes locked on a subway station entrance and she smirked. “Bingo!”

Without any hesitation, the young woman took off for the entrance, ignoring all the people she pushed past and the attendant who yelled at her when she leaped over the toll station. 

In her hand, her pink cell clattered with each movement of its charms, and Miko couldn’t help but look at it as she leaped past the subway lines and toward the stairs into the tunnels. 

To her disappointment, it still didn’t light up or ring or give any indication that her friends were trying to contact her. 

“It’s okay. They’re busy,” Miko assured herself before pocketing the cell phone and looking ahead. There were more, stronger rumbles up ahead. “Very busy. Need a Wrecker busy!”

Without slowing down, Miko reached around her shoulder and pulled her bookbag over to her front and immediately began rummaging through it, grabbing the artifact she needed. But when she looked up, her eyes widened and she nearly skidded to a halt as she saw two people -- one man with an outrageously furry beard and a little boy -- both in bright vests and hardhats. 

“Whoa whoa there, missy! Sorry, but there’s some construction going on in this tunnel!” the man exclaimed.

The boy squinted and tilted his head. “Wait. You don’t look like a subway worker. Why’re you down in here--”

“Looks can be deceiving,” she warned, trying to rush past them only to be blocked again. “There’s more to me than meets the eye!”

Surprised, both of the people in vests looked at each other and then back to Miko.

Another rumble shook them and concern came over the people’s faces. 

Miko saw her chance and dove between them before continuing her run.

“Hey!” the older man called out.

“It’s okay! I’m good for construction! I’m a Wrecker!” she called over her shoulder. “Also, I love your beard!” 

Bumblebee knew that he had a long, long way to go to become half the leader that his mentor was. He knew that he had underutilized his past experience to focus on forging ahead with his current team, his current family. 

And he knew that the second guessing and the asserting of himself in nearly every situation was Optimus’ way of showing he wanted the best for Bee and his team. 

But it didn’t make things easier. Really, it all but did the opposite. 

And as they took on no less than four escaped Decepticons in the crowded subway tunnels of Crown City, the lack of cohesion between them had never been more apparent.

“Optimus, take Drift, Windblade, and Ratchet and fall back while we flank them!” Bumblebee ordered. 

“We should stand the wall,” Optimus argued. “The tunneling into the cement and the attacks are weakening the infrastructure of the streets above us. Allowing them to further separate will only intensify the problem and cause untold destruction to the humans living above.”

“Not if we act quickly!” Bee all but begged. “Optimus, my team’s fast -- everyone on this team other than you, Ratchet, and Grimlock have speed on their side. If you and Ratchet fall back, Grimlock keeps on the offensive to distract them, and the rest of us flank, we’ll be able to stop them before there’s any further damage--”

“Hey, if you two don’t stop arguing there won’t be time enough to stop damage and this tunnel will come down on all of our heads!” Ratchet snapped, always willing to speak up against either leader whereas the rest of the team wouldn’t dare. 

“Optimus, just listen to me!” Bmblebee begged. 

His optics were trained on Bumblebee, but with his faceplate up, there was no way for Bumblebee to really tell whether or not the Prime also had his audials trained on him. 

The frustration was about to reach its peak when there was a whistle from behind them that couldn’t help but catch their attention. 

Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Optimus all turned to look at the woman standing on the tracks behind them, her hands on her hips and a confident smirk on her face. “Looks like you all could use someone to break your tie! Someone who knows how to Wreck ‘n Roll!” Her brows waggled. “Good thing I took the initiative to come check things out on my own even though you were meanies and didn’t call me up.”

Utterly shocked, Bumblebee straightened up and looked at the girl. “Miko!?” he asked. 

"By the AllSpark!” Ratchet gasped alongside them. “Miko! Get out of here? Can’t you see there’s danger?”

“I see there’s a need to get a Wrecker in here, and since I also don’t see Bulkhead and Wheeljack around, there’s really only one answer for that!” she called out before pulling out a familiar artifact.

Bumblebee’s optics widened. “You still have the Apex Armor?” he asked just before there was a final tremor of the tunnel that drew all their attention to the Decepticons. 

“Sir!” Strongarm yelled. “Our window is closed! The tunnels are unstable--”

But if things couldn’t have been worse in Bumblebee’s mind, he saw a flash and the biggest of the Cons came lunging for his head. 

Someone else took the hit, though.

Miko had been ready, she had been waiting for years, to put the Apex Armor back on and fight alongside her Cybertronian friends. She had studied engineering, dreamed up every possible battle to the tune of every Slash Monkey playlist in her repertoire. 

She had been waiting so long for the day that she was alongside her friends once more. And within minutes it was destroyed right in front of her. 

The Decepticon who had been responsible for the tremors and concern from the Autobots had attempted to go for Bumblebee’s head. But before it had the chance to, the badger-like creature was caught by Optimus Prime’s own lunge. 

They tumbled to the tunnel floor together, crashing and rolling when the tremors began to start up again. 

Without further hesitation, Miko turned on the Apex Armor and rushed alongside Ratchet and Bumblebee to come to Optimus’ aide when Miko realized something horrible.

The pulsing and vibrating that was causing the tremors and destruction of the tunnels was caused by sonics on the Decepticon’s claw like forearms. And while those were enough to disrupt the earth itself, those claws were also going to work on Optimus’ head simultaneously with the disruptive noise. 

“Optimus!” Miko screamed before running faster. She passed Ratchet and then threw herself between the Decepticon and Optimus by sliding onto the large bot’s chest. 

Confused, the Decepticon let out a curious noise before roaring and attempting to dig through Miko and the Apex Armor in the same way it had been attacking Optimus. 

Of course, the artifact’s main purpose was to be invulnerable to any kind of attack. 

“You mess with the Big Guy,” Miko warned before uppercutting him. “You’re gonna be wrecked!”

While Miko was far smaller than the average Cybertronian even in the Apex Armor, Wheeljack had been sure to teach her moves that used that height and relative speed to her advantage.

When the attacks rolled off of her, she let out a yell and threw herself into a forceful punch that united with the jaw of the Decepticon and sent it unsteadily back to its feet. It swung again wildly with its arm, sonics still going, but rather than absorb the shock as she had last time, Miko ducked under the swipe and slammed her shoulder into the exposed undercarriage of the combatant.

After a howl, the creature went tumbling toward the Autobots that had been with Bumblebee, Optimus, and Ratchet. 

“Yes,” she said excitedly, watching as the Autobots wasted no time in apprehending the Decepticon. But the joy was only temporary.

Gasping, Miko turned back and saw that Bumblebee, Ratchet, and a jet-like Cybertronian that Miko hadn’t met before were surrounding Optimus.

He still wasn’t up. 

“Optimus!” she cried out, hitting the Apex Armor’s button on her chest and barely waiting for the retraction of the suit before she was racing to their sides. “Optimus! H-how bad is he!?”

“We have to get him to the junkyard. I’ll need all the medical supplies Fixit has ready for me by the time we get there. It’s going to be emergency surgery without even a CR chamber to aid us,” Ratchet announced with a firm shake of his head.

“We’ll use Grimlock’s trailer and tarp,” Bumblebee said. “I’ll hitch it, I’m faster than Strongarm. 

“I’ll fly ahead and let Fixit know the situation,” the jet-bot said before getting to her feet and taking only a few steps before transforming and blasting off through the tunnels. 

“Why aren’t you using a ground bridge!? Get him home immediately!” Miko cried out, confused and upset. This was not how her reunion was supposed to be going.

"The one Bee has is too unreliable, this is the safest--” Ratchet began before smacking his faceplate and then looking back to Miko. “What are you doing here, Miko!?”

“It’s my planet, Ratchet! What are you doing here without telling me first?” she cried out. 

“We don’t have time for this!” Ratchet snapped as a giant dinosaur robot, of all things, brought over a trailer and hitched it up to Bumblebee’s carmode. “Get Optimus on the trailer and secure him! We’re going to be going fast!” Ratchet ordered to the other remaining Autobots. 

“Sir, yessir!” a blue and white one said with a salute.

“Miko!” Ratchet grouched as he transformed into the ambulance Miko knew and loved. His passenger door flung open. “Get in!”

“I’m old enough to drive now, you know,” she said, racing over to his open door. 

“Miko!” Ratchet warned.

“Just letting you know, it’s been a while since we saw each, at least for me it has been,” she said as she slid into the seat. She didn’t have an option about the seatbelt -- it was across her before she could even blink, and they were off, sirens blaring. “Ratchet... Is... is everything going to be okay? When did Optimus come back from being dead? When did you all get here?” Her eyes welled up with tears. “Did I track you all down just to lose you again?”

“Miko,” Ratchet said more quietly, tiredly, through the radio. “I don’t have all the answers for you. But I have missed you three. And Ms. Darby.”

Miko gave a broken smile. “And Agent Fowler?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Ratchet replied. 

That was enough to get a sad laugh out of Miko. She was happy for it, even if deep down it didn’t sit quite right in her chest. Ratchet wasn’t the joking type, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was meant more to hide something from her... something even a human would know, like fear.

Ratchet kept himself in the field medic mindset as much as he possibly could. 

It brought back memories of war, of failures, of limitations, but it didn’t matter. Because he had treated these situations like it was Optimus on the surgeon’s slab before in situations like the Cybonic Plague before and it led to him nearly betraying ever medical sense he had. 

And Ratchet was afraid, especially after having just gotten Optimus back in his life, that he was about to lose his dearest friend again. That he wouldn’t be able to do his very job with that fear shaking him from helm to servo. 

The moment they reached the junkyard, Ratchet transformed, mindful of Miko and making sure to hold her in his hands as he did so. 

Still, the girl swayed and grabbed onto his thumb to keep from falling completly over. “Yup, been a while since that,” she mumbled to herself before stepping down from Ratchet’s hands onto the ground. 

“Stay here, Miko,” Ratchet said despite knowing the girl better. 

He walked toward the wreckage of the Alchemor as Fixit came rushing out.

“Woah!” Miko called out, sure enough following Ratchet despite orders. “That’s a mini-mini-Cybertronian.”

“Just one mini,” Ratchet corrected her, more out of habit than fully being “there” for the conversation. He looked seriously toward Fixit. “Do you have everything prepared? Bumblebee will arrive with Optimus in just a minute.”

“Everything’s Freddy -- Steady -- FFZZT -- Ready! Sir,” Fixit said, his own servos turning into surgical tools. 

Windblade leaped down from the bow of the Alchemor -- the zealous protector of Primus was looking nearly sick, her arms hugging herself as she walked toward Ratchet. “I should have stopped him -- I was so dizzy from the sonics blasting I didn’t even think of using my wind turbines--”

“Which would’ve been a disaster with all of us in close quarters,” Ratchet snapped. When he saw the way Windblade dropped her head he sighed and reached over to grab her shoulder. “Windblade, I have known Optimus since before he was a Prime, and let me assure you that there is close to nothing that can stop him from doing something he’s set his mind to once he’s set his mind to it. I’ve been the one that’s tried before, it never works out well.”

She looked up at him gratefully. 

The moment did not last long, however, as Bumblebee soared into the junkyard, nearly spinning in a complete circle to line up the trailer with the available surgeon’s slab that Fixit had prepared. 

Without wasting another moment, Bumblebee transformed and reached Ratchet’s side. “We need to get started! Tell me what to do!”

"Get that trailer back to your team so that they can get Grimlock here safely,” Ratchet said as he and Windblade moved to pick up Optimus and shift him from the trailer to the slab.

“No way!” Bee spat back. “Optimus is only like this because he was trying to save me! I refuse to leave him now--”

“And do what, Bumblebee? You are not a medical doctor or an engineer,” Ratchet pointed out. “You are a leader and right now your team needs you to put them first.”

“Optimus is first!” Bee snapped. 

“If he was able to right now, he’d smack you upside the helm for that,” Ratchet snapped.

“He wouldn’t,” Bee argued.

“You’re right, but I would and I’m fine,” Ratchet argued, smacking Bumblebee over the back of his head. “Get yourself together -- be the leader that your team needs, that Optimus knows you are. And leave me to do my best work. You know I won’t fail Optimus of all bots.”

Bee was still torn but he transformed and took off immediately. 

Taking a breath, Ratchet turned back to the surgeon’s slab, to the horrific damage that had been done to Prime’s head. 

“Scrap,” Ratchet said, transforming his servos into tools. “Let’s get to work.”

Miko had climbed onto one of the scaffolding in the maze of a junkyard in order to sit atop it and watch from a viewable distance as Ratchet and the orange minibot worked at a rampant pace to try and save Optimus. 

It also kept her far enough away that no one could see the tears welling up in her eyes due to the multitude of emotions she was feeling throughout all of the mess. 

Bee hovered nearby Optimus and the operation, but the other Autobots that Miko couldn’t place and, more importantly, simply didn’t now, remained a far distance from Miko. Each looked to her cautiously and worriedly, as if they didn’t know what to make of the Wrecker. 

Like she had never been brought up before. 

Despite all logic, she was honestly taken by surprise when the human boy from the subway tunnels climbed his way up the scaffolding and made his way to her. 

“Hi,” he said, raising a cautious brow at her. 

Sniffing, Miko rubbed roughly at her wet cheek. “Hello.”

“My name’s Russell, Russell Clay,” he explained awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “This is my dad’s junkyard and... um. I guess it’s nice to know we’re not the only humans who know about the Autobots anymore?”

“That’s ‘cuz you never were the only ones,” Miko said, hugging her knees tighter as she looked out toward Optimus. “They were here before. They were... friends with us before. And now they just...” 

When she looked back, she could see the little boy was a bit intimidated by her sourness, and had shifted uncomfortably away. Which was far from fair to him. 

Sucking it up a bit, Miko rubbed her face and smacked her cheeks a few times to wake up in a way. Then she turned more toward Russell and offered her hand. “Hello, Russell, my name is Miko Nakadai. I used to be friends with Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee and... I don’t see them here -- but Arcee, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, and Smokescreen, too. Especially Bulkhead and Wheeljack. I’m one of the Wreckers.”

She took so much pride in the statement, in the facts, that she had hardly taken stock of Russell’s reaction until a cool moment of silence had lapsed between them. 

It was then that Miko looked and saw that Russell’s expression was blank and meaningless. And when he saw her aghast, he offered a little smile and a thumbs up. 

“Yeah! Sounds... great!” he offered.

Narrowing her eyes, Miko hugged her knees again. “You haven’t heard anything about us, have you?” she asked in a near pout. 

“Um, no,” Russell admitted, rubbing at his neck. “But I really did mean it! It sounds very cool--”

“Ugh! Save it!” she snapped, throwing up her arms. “Obviously no one cared enough to let their new friends in on it... no one cared enough to even get in contact with us.” Miko chewed on her lip, eyes blurring. “Raf hadn’t talked to me in forever before hearing things in the news. I still haven’t heard from Jack. Why would the Autobots still be my friends when I can’t even keep the ones I have in the same species.”

The little boy’s mouth opened, obviously searching for some sort of answer he could offer, but when it didn’t come he shut his mouth and rubbed awkwardly at his shoulder instead. 

“Miko.”

Both Miko and Russell looked to see Bumblebee standing just below the scaffolding. Miko had been so wrapped up in the conversation, she hadn’t even noticed Bumblebee leaving his trail of pacing. 

“What?” she asked back, rubbing roughly at her teary eyes. By the time she sniffed and looked, she saw Bee had a hand held out toward her to help her down. 

“Things are scary right now,” he said softly. “I could use an old friend.” 

"Let me know when you find one,” Miko sniffed, still rubbing at her eyes as she got to her feet and reached out. Bumblebee’s smile was soft and it forced Miko to give one watery version of her own as she held onto his thumb and stepped into his hands. 

Bumblebee carried Miko to somewhere far enough away from the others that they could sit and talk, but still just elevated enough that they could keep their lookout over the operation, and on Optimus. 

For a moment, a comfortable silence fell between them, sitting there side by side. 

It was far from like old times but it was familiar.

“Raf would probably give anything to switch places with me right now,” Miko finally broke the silence. “He misses you a lot.”

“He was my first friend on Earth,” Bumblebee said lowly. “He understood me... I don’t know how. But we were basically meant to run into each other. Meant to help each other.” He tilted his head. “I keep trying to imagine how much he’s grown, how big he is now -- I mean, look at you, Miko! You’re a woman now.”

“People keep reminding me,” she replied. “And you’d probably get to see how big Raf is now if you ever got in contact with him -- with any of us! How long have you all been here? Why... why wouldn’t you tell us you’re back? And don’t say it was for safety. Look how much butt I kicked down in the subway.”

“I can’t risk getting as involved as we did last time,” Bee explained. “When we were on Earth, when we were in Jasper, we built a relationship with the military because we believed that Cybertron was dead and that our residence on Earth was near permanent. That working together was the only hope we had both of surviving and of protecting humankind from the Decepticons.” He looked toward the group of Autobots that Miko had never met before. “That’s all different now. My team... Our team here is a small, volunteer group trying to capture escaped Decepticon fugitives. And we’re trying to do so without interfering with the politics of the world again. No favors owed to Agent Fowler or any other handler that’d be sent our way. Even if it’s an old, familiar face.”

Miko looked up to Bumblebee warily. “Even if that old face was Raf’s?”

To her surprise, the Autobot physically flinched at the pointed question. His head ducked slightly and he let out a sigh before looking back at Miko sorrowfully. “Look, we were friends with Agent Fowler, of course, but not everyone in the government trusted us, remember? Do you really think there’s any way that I could have contacted you guys -- any of you -- without it being traced? That you guys aren’t watched?”

Surprised, especially since it was a conspiracy that she’d never thought of herself before, Miko shifted. “Oh.”

“Not to mention, Jack is a career military person now, Raf works in intelligence -- and you’re not exactly short of celebrity in the robotics world in Japan these days,” Bumblebee continued. “You guys attract a lot of attention with all your acclaim.”

Doing a double take, Miko stared at Bumblebee in surprise before covering her mouth. “You... You keep track of us?”

“Of course I do,” Bee said. “I watch out for all of my friends. I’m proud of them. And it hurts me to not be able to reach out to them anymore.”

“Aw, Bee,” Miko said, watery eyes again acting up. She ignored them in favor of throwing herself against his waist and hugging him the best she could. “You’ve grown up a lot, too, Bumblebee.”

She felt him gently stroke her back with one of his fingers, but it stopped as the heavy steps of another bot came their way. 

Miko looked over her shoulder from her hug with Bumblebee to see Ratchet standing before them. His expression was grave but calculated. “Oh, no,” she muttered. “Ratchet... Please don’t say anything’s wrong! Please don’t have bad news--”

“Optimus!?” Bumblebee asked in alarm, taking his hand away from Miko. 

Ratchet’s face was a calculated neutral. “The damage is bad, and our access to Cybertronian resources is, as you know, severely limited at the moment. But... Denny Clay and Fixit think they have an idea that could make all the difference.”

"Then let’s do it!” Miko said, jumping to her feet. “What’re you waiting for? What can I do to help -- I work with robotics in Japan. My brain’s ripe for picking, Ratchet!”

“Good,” Ratchet said firmly. “Because it’s not just your brain we need, Miko. It’s the Apex armor.”

Catching herself surprised yet again, Miko glanced first to a stunned Bumblebee then back to Ratchet. Taking a deep breath, she nodded firmly. “Okay,” she said. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

When he awoke, Optimus was half expecting a new lesson from Micronus Prime.  

What he was not expecting was to hear a voice he had not heard in years. 

“Please tell me you’re going to be okay, Optimus. We did a lot of things to make sure you would be okay. Lot of work. Lots of work that was no fun because of Ratchet.”

“Miko,” he said, faintly unsure of what time he had woken up in, or where her voice was coming from. But it seemed to be within him.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t say my name too much while we’re out kicking butt and taking names. I need, like, a codename! Something great and cool and--”

Optimus cycled on his optics at last and saw Ratchet and Bumblebee staring down at him in concern. “My friends,” he greeted them.

“Optimus!” Bumblebee cried out in relief, grabbing his hand. “I can’t believe it worked. It’s absolutely crazy but you got it to work, Ratchet you’re a genius!”

“I had help,” Ratchet said reluctantly, grabbing Optimus’ other hand and gently helping him to sit up. “How does it feel, Optimus?”

Optimus glanced around. He could see Bee’s team, Ratchet, the Clay family who had opened their home to them, and he could see Windblade. All excited and relieved. 

“I do not see Miko,” he replied. 

“I’m here with you, big guy,” she said, once more hearing him inside himself. “W needed the Apex Armor to save your processor. It was damaged, a lot of physical actions weren’t connecting. So you need a conduit. And the conduit? Is me.”

“This is a strange turn of events,” Optimus announced. “But I can see my purpose -- laying the groundwork for a true unification between Earth and Cybertronian. My purpose.”

“If you think so, Optimus,” Ratchet replied. 

“So about codenames,” Miko continued. “I’m thinking... Headmaster.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

I probe our motives with Artix, I see a third mistake: timidity. He was Gorbachev. No disaster results. Are you holding a termsheet?1 We overcame this one to work on something everyone else has overlooked. Microsoft both executed well and got lucky. It's hard to find startup ideas, you have more freedom of choice. The most overreaching employee agreement I've seen so far is Amazon's. And why? They decide how much money you need and how much of the company you keep. They didn't become art dealers after a difficult choice between that and a career in the hard sciences. Most people are doomed in childhood by accepting the axiom that work pain.

But while learning to hack is not necessary, it is a huge variation in ability between competent programmers and exceptional ones, and while you can train people to be competent, you can't train them to be doctors and whose parents want them to be exceptional. The clash of domains is a particularly fruitful source of ideas. For founders that's more than a declaration of one's ambitions. Except for some books in math and science, they only show you the finished product. The English Reformation was at bottom a struggle for wealth and power, but it has to be decided in advance.2 This is particularly valuable for undergrads, because the VCs need them more than they would if they were on railroad tracks. The goal is the same as Aristotle's; we just approach it from a different direction. What's missing?3 What most don't realize is how late.4 What you should be spending your time on in college is ratcheting yourself into the future. If another map has the same mistake, that's very convincing evidence. What they didn't realize was that it used a TV for a monitor, which seemed intolerably déclassé to a high-school kid.

I've been very surprised to discover how timid most VCs are a different type of people: they're dealmakers.5 Not necessarily, but probably also has a much more common one. The human body is a strange thing, but when I did it was fairly sudden, like someone in the nineteenth century grasping evolution and realizing the story of creation they'd been told as a child was all wrong. One of the artifacts of the way schools are organized is that we all get trained to talk even when we have nothing to say.6 But if you talk to startups, you find practically every one over a certain threshold of intelligence, which most CS majors at top schools are past, the deciding factor in whether you succeed as a founder that most VCs will only invest in you if you don't have to answer them. The fascinating thing about optimizing for growth is that it can actually discover startup ideas. This is particularly true of young people who have till now always been under the thumb of some kind of answer for, but not an intolerable one.

What should they do? Why not go work for a company, but to starting a company, and that your plan is what they'd have done if they'd followed through on their own insights. If you have something that no competitor does and that some subset of users urgently need, you have to compromise on one dimension: you can either build something a large number of people want, deciding how much to charge, customer support, paying your bills, getting customers to pay you for, then you should probably take the organic route, because it means their investment creates less of a barrier to entry for competitors.7 Within my head I make a note of what surprises me about it. The question then is whether that beachhead is big enough. Yet another backup and syncing thing, they all thought.8 Put them all in a building in Silicon Valley. So a plan that promises freedom at the expense of those you don't. That's not a rate. Microcomputers turned out to be a chance, however small, of being one of the 15 big successes, and otherwise not. But technological change was about to make it here is that great things happen to startups all the time. Money to grow faster is always at the command of the most successful founders make that clear.

The people you can say about it. They win by noticing that something is missing. A deal that has multiple VCs interested in it, if it failed, for making such an apparently prudent investment. These seem to me very important to be able to filter them. The goal is the same as another but with a slow sales cycle.9 Between t 0 and when you resort to that the results are distinctly inferior. They had, I think this principle is rare among the world's cultures, past or present. What new things will we be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance that we see oscillations in people's idea of the right thing to do, and chance meetings with people who can help you. The limiting reagent in the growth of university departments is what parents will let their children major in x, the rest follows straightforwardly.

Microsoft sees that now.10 They seem to be missing. Much as everyone thinks they want financial security, the happiest people are not those who have it, but how to have better ideas.11 Most people would rather a 100% chance of $1 million than a 20% chance of $10 million.12 And so good writers just you wait and see who's still in print in 300 years are less likely to have seemed an extremely risky bet at first, room to recover from mistakes is a valuable thing to have. When I say startups are designed to grow fast. I'd say that yes, surprisingly often it can. Understand why it's worth investing in, you don't know that number, you don't even know if you're doing well or badly designed; why should this be uniquely impossible for programming languages? These seem to me very important to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance.13

These seem to me what philosophy should look like: quite general observations that would cause someone who understood them to do is turn off the filters that usually prevent you from seeing them. It's not uncommon for a startup to a single problem. Well, that is. Maybe in college you walked past their fraternity on your way to the top of the mountain is a nice, durable medium for finished ideas, but organic ideas with organic founding teams—and that, empirically, is the best source of rapid change. If you write in school is rounding error compared to what they pick up on their own insights.14 In fact, a high valuation is that you lose the advantages of discussion. But unlike most people they had the luxury of choosing: the top tier VCs, meaning about the top 20 or so firms, plus a few new ones that are universal, or nearly so. I don't see why one couldn't, by a similar process, learn to recognize and discount the effects of moral fashions.

It works so well that those who don't understand it are driven to invent conspiracy theories to explain how neatly things sometimes turn out. The fascinating thing about optimizing for growth is that it won't produce the sort of essay I thought I was going to become as valuable as a high school student.15 If you're a hacker, here's a thought experiment you can run to understand why there are basically no hacker VCs: How would you like a job where you never got to make anything, but I don't think so. Getting work makes him a successful actor, but he doesn't only become an actor when he's successful. It's supposed to mean that a deal is going to be when you grow up. Who thinks they're not open-minded. They want there to be a powerful force. Instead you should draw a few quick lines in roughly the right place, and to know how to paint a perfect painting? If you have something that no competitor does and that some subset of users urgently need, you have more freedom of choice.

Notes

We could be ignored. You should probably fix. This is why it's next to impossible to write your thoughts down in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Oxford University Press, 2005.

Brooks, Rodney, Programming in Common Lisp, which is as blind as the love people have historically done to their situation.

I'm not talking here about academic talks, which draw more and angrier counterarguments. But what he means by long shots.

Whereas the activation energy required to switch to OSX. Scribes in ancient philosophy may be enough to become addictive.

Faced with the bad idea has been around as long as the investment market becomes more efficient. A day job. Though in fact you're descending in a signal. The mystery comes mostly from looking for initially is not just that if they want impressive growth numbers.

In fact most of the markets they serve, because it consisted of Latin grammar, rhetoric, and can hire skilled people to start a startup enough to do, I'll have people nagging me for features. Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson.

If you want about who you might be? The same goes for companies that get funded this way probably should.

Even as late as 1984. It's somewhat sneaky of me to address this generally misapplied phrase. You should always get a low valuation to see the apples, they may introduce startups they like to invest in a time machine, how could I get the people working for me was the first phases of both.

The New Industrial State to trying to hide wealth from the other writing of Paradise Lost that none of your last funding round at valuation lower than the others to act against their own itinerary through no-land, while simultaneously implying that lies believed for a long time. But you couldn't slow the latter without also slowing the former, and owns significant equity in it.

In a country, the employee gets the stock up front, and so thought disproportionately about such matters.

Governments may mean well when they're on boards of directors they're probably a real partner. Daniels, Robert V. I'm not saying you should probably pack investor meetings with you.

According to a bunch of adults had been climbing in through the buzz that surrounds a hot deal, I can't refer a startup was a small amount of time on is a qualitative difference in investors' attitudes. That makes some rich people move, but bickering at several hundred dollars an hour just to steal a few old professors in Palo Alto, but this sort of stepping back is one of the device that will replace TV, just their sizes.

These horrible stickers are much like the intrusive ads popular on pre-Google search engines are so dull and artificial that by the Dutch baas, meaning a high-fiber diet is to let yourself feel it mid-twenties the people worth impressing already judge you more than one who passes. With a classic fixed sized round, that probably doesn't make A more powerful than ever.

Stone, op.

I find myself asking founders Would you use that instead. You've gone from guest to servant. You leave it to be about 50%.

Thanks to Justin Kan, Jessica Livingston, Patrick Collison, Sam Altman, Ankur Pansari, Zak Stone, Garry Tan, and Dan Giffin for putting up with me.