#medi-bot

[sm-baby]

I dare you to confess to your crush on live tv <3 UwA so romantic!

[flower-virus-utmv]

Who's Medi? They sound mad rad for broski to be top dog in the judging

".... Don't.... Talk to me like that.... Unless you want to be skinned.... Medi's an Archangel of Yusebi aka our God...."

-Paperjam

< | >

[anony-man]

OHHH 😭 why didn’t I know this was a thing until nowwww

Shimp

[imma-soft-beeboy]

dratchet fluff, preferably lost light but i dont mind, extra points if my boy rodimus is there too

A/N: YES I CAN! I love my old man yaoi (and of course I'll add their man child). Enjoy!

《TW: Ratchet has achy chronic pain cause he's old & Rodimus mentions feelings of inadequacy cause big feels about being captain okay???》

[ Simple Things ]

Ratchet had had an incredibly long day in the medbay. Every half-wit bot known to man had decided today was the day to do risky, borderline life-threatening behavior. He had spent countless hours patching up people, and at this point he couldn't tell what ached more.

All he wanted to do is settle in his habsuite, with his eccentric conjunx, and unwind. So when he opened the door to find not only his conjunx, but Rodimus as well, he sighed. Of course their leash child was there...

"Hello Sweetspark," Drift smiled widely, his voice sickly sweet. Ratchet distinctly remembered Drift saying 'no Rodimus tonight.'

"Don't pander to me," Ratchet snipped. Drift whinced slightly, so much for trying to soften the blow. He knew Ratchet wasn't actually mad, but he still felt bad.

"Me and Rodimus were just sitting down to play a game would you like to join?" Stretching his back struts, Ratchet grumbled in thought. He ached, but maybe a game would be a nice distraction.

"Sure." Scooting back the two made room for the medi-bot on the floor. Drift watched as Ratchet gingerly lowered himself to the floor. He felt bad, it should just be the two of them, but Rodimus had needed him too. Don't get him wrong, he cared for Rodimus, but Rodimus was not his conjunx. His conjunx was currently sitting across from Drift clearly pent up after a long day.

"It'll just be a quick game, promise," Drift soothed letting his servo run over Ratchet's leg.

"Barf," Rodimus joked from beside Drift, "PDA?" Rolling his eyes Drift shoved Rodimus playfully, before starting to unpack the game.

The game itself was a well known Cybertronian classic. It was a game involving tiles with different half designs on each edge. The goal was to match the half of the design on one edge to one already on a board. If you got 4 whole designs adjacent to each other, you could pull a token. The bot with the most tokens wins. It was meant to be a casual game, where you enjoy the intricacies of the completed graphic. Very relaxing.

However, with Rodimus playing, it turned into a mad dash for tokens. "I win," the flaming red bot pumped his fists into the air. Drift snickered and Ratchet grumbled.

"Alright Friend-o-Mine," Drift sighed, "I did say one game." He clapped Rodimus on the shoulder before leading him to habsuite door. "Be gentle with yourself okay?"

"I'll try, thanks Drift," Rodimus half smiled before leaving. As soon as the door shut, Drift descended on Ratchet. The medi-bot could feel the stealth-bot in his magnetic field before a servos touched the dips above his hips.

"What was his deal," Ratchet gruffed out as Drift started massaging out the tension in his lower back.

"He was trying to stay away to give us a night, but his thoughts got the better of him. He's worried about the journey. Thinks he's not doing enough as Captain, making all the wrong decisions." At this point Drift had made his way to Ratchet's shoulder struts. Ratchet had thrown his head back, resting it on the others shoulder armor. They looked at each other.

"I can't say he's been the smartest; but he's doing all he can with what he's got."

"And thats all he can do." Drift wandered down his arms to his servos, and Ratchet nearly moaned. His servos always bothered him, he used them day in and day out. They were overworked and underpaid. But Drift was doing a number on them that had each cable loosening.

"And what about you," Drift murmured in his audial, "how did your day go?"

"Busy. I saw practically the whole ship today," Ratchet huffed, venting loudly.

"Mmm, must've been taxing on your mind and soul," Drift soothed, now easing the tired bot to sit on the berth. As Ratchet sat he watched Drift lower himself to sit on the floor, starting to rub his aching pedes.

"Don't hit me with the spiritual enlightenment slag."

"I would never," Drift hummed, content. Something about watching Ratchet relax after a long day because of his massage therapy, just made him giddy. "Just trying to help you unwind."

"Thank you, Sweetspark," Ratchet suddenly took Drifts servos in his, "it means a lot." They smiled at each other before leaning in to share a quick kiss. "Now get up here on the berth and cuddle me, dammit."

"Yes Sir," Drift joked before climbing up.

[acespace42]

When you find out your best friend’s been turned into a cube and when you cry to your Conjunx (husband) about it he says not even he can fix it AND HE’S A FUCKING MEDI-BOT

[crimewave420]

*surgically grafts a horn onto your cheek* "medi-bot"

what in the fuck did they mean by this

[nomstellations]

"Doctor, I have a patient."

He looked up at the familiar buzz of the robot's voice. These new medi-bots were pretty handy, despite only having one it vastly improved the recovery rates of people and overall quality of life. People who were uncomfortable with doctors felt it was easier to talk to, and kids never stressed out about their hospital visits when they saw a cool huge robot walking around! However, these models weren't without their bugs...which he noted as soon as he peered through its translucent green middle.

"Is...that our receptionist?"

"Affirmative. The patient stated she was feeling ill, so I have swallowed her and brought her here for diagnosis."

Said "patient" was squirming impotently, hands pushing out against its stomach as if her displeasure wasn't visible on her face. "I SAID I was sick of our slow-ass wifi! That wasn't literal!" The bot patted at her, attempting to soothe her. "Symptoms appear to be agitation and a flushed face."

He sighed, it was effective most of the time...and other times, it gave their staff unintentional breaks. At least getting it to spit them up was easy.

[physically-bloody-medibot]

MEDI BOT!!!!!

I gift thee a repair to be fully waterproof so you can swim in this pool of blood I got ya!!

YOU FOOL!!! PROTO MAY BE WATER-PROOF, BUT HE IS NOT DROWING-PROOF!!!!

[rpking99]

"If they had a kid" for Megaman and Meddi

Name: Jazz.exe/Modem Hikari

Gender: female

General appearance: she has her fathers brown hair and green eyes but wears a nurse outfit

Personality: she's a very quiet but smiling person. Always trying to help people in and out of the net

Special Talents: she is a nurse type navi, and spends a lot of time researching real world medicine to help in that world as well

Who they like better: Medi

Who they take after more: Hub/Megaman

Personal headcanon: she spends a lot of time in a Copy Bot, helping out in the real world and spending time with her Uncle Lan and Aunty Mayl

Face Claim: Nimi Nightmare, Indie V-Tuber

This one was very hard. Especially for a face claim since Net Navi's have a very partial look

[sm-baby]

What does medi bot do in her free time??

[redphienix]

as someone who loves playing stealth in games that aren't "about" stealth, I can't say I'm really on the side of the divers begging for a stealth bond.

stealth in this game is just boring, and it lacks mechanical depth, instead just being "You're prone? Practically invisible, have fun pressing the button I guess."

Not to mention currently only 2 of the 3 factions play by the rules with their breaches, with bugs seemingly being able to desync their pheromone so the millisecond you see them pull their head back and you kill them- the breach still goes through- so like, go fuck yourself I guess lol

I got a rush or two out of doing helldive bot solo stealth when 9 was the highest difficulty but the interest wore off FAST when it became evident it's pretty much only implemented enough so you can hit a poi solo without causing a fuss if you REALLY want to (why not cause a fuss?).

But hey, I mean, I wouldn't complain about it. Some quiet guns or whatever else they come up with might be kinda fun- I just think HD2 kinda lacks the depth to make stealth mean much, and it isn't like any objectives are designed in a way in which stealth would be more rewarding than just walking in and pressing the button.

Happy to be wrong if I love it when it happens; Content and unbothered to be 'right' about how I feel when it comes out and I'm uninterested because I know plenty of others will have fun sneaking around doing pois or launching ICBMs without a drop happening- bet they'll enjoy it :)

anyways medic bond that actually makes medic a fuckin' thing with stuff like the infinite medi gun from HD1, when.

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 2: Then I Heard a New Voice Inside

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: He's only ruined it all.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: T, Angst like whoa, insinuations of creep behavior, misunderstandings, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: The outpouring of love for this series has made my entire month, I'm so glad y'all are along for the ride. Especially when it's about to get interesting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

There’s a hand on your face, a thumb stroking small circles on the line of your jaw. Opening your eyes, you’re at first confused by why you’re looking at the ceiling. Then the dull ache of an elbow, the cool press of floor tiles, and the murmur of voices grows as you shake the blur from the edges of your vision.

“There we go, you’re back with us. Can you hear me okay? Can you see me?” A calm-voiced woman wearing dark blue coveralls and purple nitrile gloves says soothingly at your side. A steel gray medi-bot hovers at her side, offering a tray of diagnostic tools. When you move to sit up she firmly presses you back, checking your eyes and asking you question after question. When your answers strengthen she backs off slightly, typing a code into the medi-bot’s chest compartment. 

“Have you ever fainted before?” she asks, clipping a heart rate monitor on the tip of your finger. The question turns rusty gears in your brain, and awareness of the hand cupping your face rockets back to the foreground.

Jack.

You turn your head, pillowed on something folded between your skull and the floor, and there he is. Not a feverish dream, or a willful thought. Jack Daniels is kneeling beside you on the café floor, torn between looking down at you and nodding to the paramedic. The sharply anachronistic cowboy hat shades his knit brow, red flannel soft under your fingers when you wrap them around his wrist. He looks down at you, relief washing his face.

“Hey Sugar,” he murmurs, a nervous smile softening the concern. “Sorry for the fright.”

Your movements are molasses slow as you’re helped to your feet by the paramedic and Jack. Words drip from your lips - must have been the sun, not enough to eat, to sleep, don’t worry - and the paramedic walks you through what symptoms mean you should go to the hospital. The medi-bot prints out a neat sheet of emergency numbers the paramedic hands to you, checking you over one more time before her tablet pings with another call. You nod and manage a tight smile, all while watching the red blur in your peripheral. His hand ghosts your elbow.

The paramedic and medi-bot exit, and soon even the onlookers thin out. Then it’s just you and Jack.

Well, not quite. You and Jack and the anger boiling up inside your chest.

He opens his mouth to speak but you’re already walking away, gathering up your bag and tugging on your shoes. Following with that puppy dog look that accentuates how big and brown they are, he hovers over you.

“Sugar, I know I’ve got a lot to explain.”

“No,” you snap, coming to a hard stop in front of him. The ache in your body to touch and be touched is a quiet cry behind the roar of your rage. “You have more than a lot to explain. I knew seeing you again would ruin that weekend, but holy shit, I didn’t think it would ruin every fucking thing about you.” You shake your head, your chest hitching at the sob you’re holding back. Jack’s face cracks, confused brow now crinkling into pain. 

“Sugar, what…I don’t…I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he stammers, lowering his voice from curious onlookers. 

“What did you mean, then?” you query, folding your arms. The pressure across your chest steels you more. “Were you going to call me up? Ask me out to dinner? Woo me over coffee?” You don’t let him answer, striding past his broad frame and out onto the sunlit street. The rays are blinding now, hot across your face like a slap. A second jingle of the door and Jack follows, hands hovering over your arms but now hesitant to touch.

“Let’s talk somewhere, please. Let me explain everything.”

If this all wasn’t so appalling you would find his earnestness endearing.

“I don’t need to hear anything from you. You should be ashamed of yourself for what you’ve done.”

Jack’s brow crackles back to confusion, and he finally lets his fingertips graze your skin. It’s electric, raising the hairs on the back of your arms, but you squeeze them tighter around your middle to dash it away.

“What I’ve…?” he asks, your incredulous laugh only mystifying him more.

“Pretending you’re a fucking host? Gallivanting around Westworld like some romance novel hero seducing unsuspecting guests? I gotta hand it to you, you did your homework, you had me fooled. I thought…” You stop, your throat closing up, but press on. “And the fact that you’re pretending like it’s not, like it’s some Hallmark movie bullshit meeting like this, means you really are delusional. Stay the fuck away from me,” you snap, storming off before the hot tears burning behind your eyes can escape. 

He was a liar. Of course he was. You were so fucking naive to think something wasn’t up. And now your skin feels too tight, the memory of his touch itching to be scraped off. You’d file a police report, get his ass locked up for whatever law “lying about being an android to fuck you” would fall under.

Suddenly you’re yanked into an alleyway, stumbling up against Jack’s solid chest again. His hands curl around your biceps, holding you still while you pull back against him.

“Let me go, you fucking asshole, or I’ll scream,” you hiss hoarsely, fists coming up to beat against his chest. He holds fast, waiting for your defiant gaze to come back to his face. When you finally look at him, it’s relief etched into his features. Your arms go limp in his hold, heart hammering and brain grinding at this strange turn.

“Fuck me, Sugar, you sure know how to break a man’s heart,” he says, wonder watercoloring his tone. Your jaw drops to scream bloody murder when he speaks with a calm assurance that steals your voice.

“I am a host. Always have been.”

Your eyebrows knit together, hands coming up to your chest. Jack strokes your arms, waiting for your response.

“You’re lying.”

He smirks.

“I don’t think I could formulate a lie right now if I tried. I thought of a million ways this could go, and you still surprise me and do the one thing I never considered.”

“Hosts don’t exist outside the parks, that’s fucking ridiculous.”

“You think I’m some computer genius who hacked a global empire to pull one over on you? Seems like a very complicated way to make your acquaintance.” His mouth twitches up a fraction. 

It does sound far-fetched, but the implications twist your stomach in knots. 

“You’re a human asshole who lied to me.”

“I’m not, Sugar. I’m not human.” He pauses for a moment. “I lied to you once. At the train station.”

Silence hangs over the two of you, the world flowing by the alley entrance without you.

“You asked me a question and I told you what you wanted to hear.”

What does this look like? 

A polaroid photo of an impossible world, uncomputable to any host.

I need to know what you see, before you say anything else.

“But it was a lie. First one I ever told.”

It doesn’t look like anything to me, sweetheart.

Your vision swims again, but this time you grip Jack’s shirt and hold on as the wave passes. He cradles the back of your neck with his large warm palm, searching your face as you regulate your breathing again.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you choke out, stepping back. Jack lets you leave his space, eyes pleading as he drops his hands. “You can’t be here. This…this can’t be happening.”

“Please don’t go fainting on me again, I’d hate to call that paramedic back,” he says, just the smallest mirth in his tight voice. A loud, ugly sound bleats out of you, something between a laugh and a sob, as you shake your head.

“You can’t be real,” you repeat, and Jack’s face shatters and falls. 

“It’s me. I promise you, it’s Jack.”

Head pounding against the onslaught of emotions - to go to him, to run away, to study every pore and hair for the truth, to throw caution to the wind and damn the consequences - you hold firm. His mouth sets in a thin line, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes tight. Clearing his throat, he meets your eye and there’s a depth of sadness that chokes you. 

“There’s so much I want to tell you. But not here,” Jack says, fishing around in his pocket. You watch numbly, hands shaking as he pulls out a little scrap of paper. “My phone, and my address. Let me tell you what happened and then you can decide what you think. But please, give me a chance to show you.”

You hold the paper in your hands, unable to conjure up even a “fuck you” to the man standing in front of you. Your eyes burn, your hands tingle, your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks thickly to the roof of your mouth. Jack waits, watching your lip quiver and you struggle to suck in air. When you meet his face again it’s resigned, a parting squeeze to your arm before he steps away from you.

“I hope you’ll call,” he says, backing out of the alley and into the bustling street. One more regretful look at you, his jaw ticking and his soft eyes dropping to the ground, and he melts into the crowd. 

You call out of work, voice shaking so badly your supervisor barely questions it. You consider walking back to your apartment but your eyes blur up with tears at the drop of a hat, so you take an rideshare instead. Climbing into the hovering driverless vehicle, bile rises in your throat.

Jack’s here, outside of the park. A human or a machine, both options equally terrifying. He’s occupying a world so much different from the one you both met in, one of technology harnessed for peak comfort and luxury. It spikes your stomach, the idea that he might feel more kinship with this vehicle than you, made to service silently and without memory. Or he’s more dangerous than that, a human manipulative and secretive, but to what end? To possess you? To make your pain a cruel joke to laugh about with other men? 

Why now? Why today? And most importantly, as you shed your layers and bury yourself in bed, why you?

More tears slip out, weak sobs buried in your pillow until sleep takes you. Your dreams are fitful, black and white. A room of men and women freezing to take their faces off, circuitry beneath. A saddled horse clopping delicately through a business lobby. Brown eyes that look at you like you’ve broken their heart. 

PREVIOUS NEXT

[afraidofchange]

Actually, @croftborn got me thinking about what kind of combat-based medical training Shepard would have learned in her time in the Alliance. All soldiers are taught Basic First Aid, (and based on some real-world instructions, they are also trained to address Tactical Casualty Combat Care (TCCC), following and understanding MARCH: Massive Hemorrhage, Airway, Respiration, Circulation, Hypothermia Prevention).

Obviously, medical care in an active combat zone can be difficult, given the danger, but triaging injured persons before accessing professional medical care can certainly help their outcomes. Additionally, we know in Mass Effect that medicine has advanced to the point where medi-gel exists as an "all-purpose medicinal salve", that combines both an anesthetic and clotting agent and is able to heal various wounds and ailments, instantly sealing injuries against infection, while allowing for rapid healing (as the gel grips tightly to flesh until subjected to a frequency of ultrasound, therefore making it sealable against liquids - namely, blood - as well as contaminants and gasses).

However, this is not always going to solve a medical injury in the field, and so Shepard does make use of her training when necessary, for both those who serve alongside her, as well as herself. For example, when Ashley was attacked by the Eva Core bot, she suffered a massive head injury, and while I know the game shows the emotional cinematic of Shepard fireman carrying her to the ship, they definitely should've stabilized her neck and head first and gotten a stretcher to bring her to the Med-Bay, lest they injure her further (among other things, like making sure she still had a pulse and was breathing, etc), especially since they did have a bit of time before more Cerberus soldiers were going to show up / the storm was coming in.

Anyway, my main point of this was that Shepard has these basic skills from her years in the Alliance, and while a lot of minor combat injuries can be treated with medi-gel, actively triaging in the field for more serious injuries is something she can and does do - which I am sure, Dr. Chakwas is thankful for.

[copterbotblades]

  independent roleplay/ask blog for Blades of Transformers: Rescue Bots ✨️🚁  single muse*, multiverse & multiship, semi-selective, sfw, low/sporadic activity    anon asks & M!As welcome

  *(secondary muse Dani Burns may also appear)

Status: Busy (Inactive but lurking!)

written by Firefly, she/her (character bio & notes below)

note: I edit this post a lot. like multiple times a week if i'm feeling active. everything on here is subject to change

-🚁- Rules

 no internet discourse! i simply do not care :)

 no nsfw - I don't judge, but I am personally extremely uncomfortable with it, especially in a Transformers context. also note that I probably won't follow blogs that do explicit roleplays or writings on main-- again, nothing against you or the content, I just don't want to see it.

 please message me if you want to plan or chat about anything!

-🚁- Backstory

   During the latter years of the Autobot-Decepticon war, a rescue team of four young adult Cybertronians were discovered by Optimus Prime after being in stasis for several millennia. At this point, Rescue Bots were thought to be extinct. The bots were brought to Earth and paired with a family of human rescue workers to protect the residents of a semi-isolated high-tech island called Griffin Rock, where they regularly prevent disaster from occurring.    Blades, the team's medic and only flier, is very anxious and easily frightened. Despite his protests due to his fear of heights, he had to scan a helicopter altmode after reaching Earth. His human partner is Dani Burns, an EMT and rescuer in her early 20s. While the pair had a difficult beginning with many disagreements, they eventually realized how much they had in common. The two are now inseparable friends both in rescue work and at home, watching TV and making interesting attempts at baking.

-🚁- FAQs

 Time frame - Unless stated otherwise, events take place between the S1 finale and S3 finale-- essentially meaning that Doc Greene and Frankie are aware of the bots' sentience, but the rest of the island residents are not.

 Will RP with - Transformers, some OCs, and maybe characters from other fandoms. (please DM first!)

 Genres - Any. Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, crack, whatever. Violence and injury is ok, gore is not.

 Ships - My ships with Blades are almost always Bumblebee or Heatwave, but I'm open to others! Shipping isn't really a priority for me though.

 Anonymous asks - yes! I can't promise to answer every ask, but know that all are appreciated :]

 Magic Anons - yes, always!

 also, "low/sporadic activity" means that sometimes I'll be really active one week and then completely disappear the next. i promise i haven't forgotten, i'm just busy and/or have writer's block </3

Formatting - IC writing is in plain text, speaking lines are in quotes "", thoughts are in italics. If Blades is speaking over commlinks, text will be .:like this:. . OOC posts and tags are in brackets [ ]. I can't/won't write with asterisks.

-🚁- Character notes & headcanons:

  Both Blades and Dani are pansexual.

  Blades has bright orange/yellow optics. (Yes, I know they're green in RBA. I like orange better.)

  Dani has dark brown eyes that can light up in the sunshine.

  The concept of gender doesn't really exist on Cybertron, but on Earth Blades sort of defaulted to he/him. He doesn't mind being called by other pronouns, but he/him feels most natural.

  Blades used to have a Cybertronian ground altmode similar to an Earth sports car. He sometimes misses racing with the other Rescue Bots and his friends back on Cybertron.

  He's learned to deal with his fear of heights and become a skilled flier, but is still vulnerable to panic in the air, especially under stressful circumstances (e.g. weather).

  His helicopter rotors are extremely sensitive, and fragile. If they are broken or bent, he can't fly until they are repaired and healed. And if they are touched without consent he may become irritable and flustered.

  Blades is the team's medic. However, he is young, inexperienced and obviously nowhere near the skill level of those like Ratchet. (Also, he knows next to nothing about human anatomy and health. That's Dani's job.)

originally est. 2022 / new blog est. 2024

[acespace42]

I feel like sharing my low quality Transformers characters right now and I’m acting on this impulse before I back down and hide them away forever. I’ll even share a little information on them too because why not.

Rose Ripper is my intel-bot turned pop idol superstar. She turned into some kind of motorcycle (I refuse to get specific when it comes to TFA designs) and she’s my baby. I love her more than the rest of these guys (biased character alert).

Ace is the “this is a self insert in disguise” character. They’re a freaky little science experiment that got adopted by Rose Ripper. They cause mass blackouts and I love them for it 💗

Solarstreak, Hexerquake, and Lightlace are my Rose Ripper X Ratchet fankids. Hexer and Lace are severely underdeveloped meanwhile Solar gets to be a medi-bot with daddy sire issues.

Veilvexer, Crossclaw, and Sunsling are also severely underdeveloped, all I got is that Crossclaw is a Decepticon scientist and Veilvexer is hacker supreme. Sunsling is just a nervous wreck.

Beat is…Beat. They’re one of the flying Autobot projects that happened and they ended up imprinting on Wheeljack somehow another underdeveloped soul ripperoni to my characters lol.

[terrahlee-cup]

Bird bot (Lantana) posting hours!! Scout who is short and full of rage. She really dislikes Sentinel specifically. Her reputation is horrible and most of the higher-ups despise her, but she’s really good at her job unfortunately. (And UM adopting her makes it basically impossible to get rid of her.)

Also. Lantana’s never properly seen a medic despite fighting in a good portion of the war and Kitsch has no idea what she’s got herself into by meeting this bot lmao.

Now post yours. @teletraantwo (<- Made Kitsch, enabler of me making ocs.)

Talons clicked against tile floor as she made her way down the hall. Although it might have looked like she did from an outside perspective, she had no set destination in mind. 'Think of this reassignment as an opportunity to work with some bots you'll find more tolerable.' What kind of excuse was that?!

She knew exactly why they really wanted her gone— who cared if she made the right call when she didn't blindly follow orders and stroke their massive egos. Some of those bots acted more like Decepticons than the cons did themselves.

Now she was stuck working with Sentinel for the foreseeable future. Fantastic. She'd prefer torture, thank you very much. At least the younger bots were less- and that was someone else's plating. Lantana jumped to the side just before her face met metal, flapping her wings to steady herself. The other bot seemed surprised to see her, in the middle of closing a door with one servo and holding a datapad with the other. Primus, how hard was it to look where you were going? 

"You might not want to be looking down at a datapad while you open a door." She snapped, trying and failing to force her wings to settle after the surprise. The other bot raised an optical ridge at her before,

"Oh you must be the little birdie who keeps sending Sentinel to my medbay. I've been having to fix him up more than usual because of you." Who was this bot again? It didn't really matter.

"That fragger doesn't understand what the word 'no' means, don't blame me. If he minded his own business we wouldn't have a problem."

"Just don't forget, there's another bot on the other side who has to clean up your mess." Lantana cycled her optics before turning to walk off with a wave,

"Say what you want, you aren't the one dealing with him following you around." Sentinel was annoying on his best days, so really these people were lucky she hadn't sent the smug fragger to the scrap heap. Yet.

—————————————————————

Flying. If anyone tried to take it from her she'd probably lose the last bits of sanity she had left. It was probably the only time she was relaxed, especially when she didn't have to think about where she was going. There was no risk of running into Decepticon ships anymore. Gliding low over buildings let her watch other bots going about their days while keeping disdainful stares away. 

It was funny how quickly she caught on to the schedules of certain bots. The little yellow one would be… yep, running late. Again. They'd have to break that habit eventually. Multiple bots stopped to yell after them when they just barely avoided running into their frames. At least they were fast. Maybe she'd help them out one of these days, but being grabbed suddenly didn't tend to please most bots.

Only a moment after she'd had that thought, Lantana caught the sound of something flying through the air. She didn't get a chance to do anything, a mass of wire hitting her and forcing her wing closed before she could react. A terrified screech left her and then she was plummeting towards the ground. Using her talons to free herself was useless with them also tangled in the wires, so the best she could do was yank at it with her beak.

Lantana squeezed her optics shut as the ground grew closer, except she crashed into- metal? She was able to right herself with the minimal amount of flailing she could still manage and found herself in the lap of a pale blue bot. A very familiar bot, at that. Fantastic. Thankfully the medic's immediate reaction wasn't to yell at her this time. Her relief was in no way related to how hard she was shaking.

A data pad—that same stupid data pad from before— was quickly set aside. "Hang on, Birdie, let me get this off of you. Now how'd you end up like this?" Some bot thought ‘this’ was funny, probably. Fun fact: it wasn't. If she hadn’t been flying so low some bot could have offlined her. She’d have to track them down before she started flying around base again.

The bot she’d landed on had found a starting point to untangle the wires and was muttering to herself as she worked. Lantana had to agree with the cursing, but she couldn’t really talk, so she settled in to wait for some kind of progress.

It took a couple of minutes until Lantana’s wing was finally freed, and she immediately proceeded to do a… graceful, definitely graceful, flop off of the other bot. She was ignoring the soft laugh entirely. 

A bit more maneuvering and she could get at the wire wrapped around her talons. Yanking at the mess until something snapped probably wasn’t the most advisable approach, but it worked well enough. It also let her take her frustration out on an inanimate object, so.

Now entirely free, she was able to scramble away from the cursed trap and transform into her root mode, “When I find out who pulled this I’m making them regret being forged. Been here for a week and some bot’s already trying to mess with me. Slagger… oh, right, thanks for the help.”

“It’s what I do, Birdie. Now do me a favor and try not to make more work for me.” She was trying. Lantana had to fight the intense urge to roll her optics,

“If other bots stopped trying their best to offline me it would be a bit easier. I prefer being functional. Anyway, I have a bot to track down now, bye.” She grabbed the pile of mangled wires and walked off, at a normal pace mind you, before the other bot could keep talking. She was stuck on the ground until she made sure there wouldn’t be a repeat of this incident. Scrap.

Avoiding Sentinel cost her several strange looks, but she managed to make it "home" without another fight. Lantana tossed the wires onto her desk and began what she knew could be a long night of flipping through security cameras.

It was a long night of flipping through security cameras. At least she was left alone for the most part. Ultra Magnus had checked on her when he'd returned—unnecessarily, really. The mech seemed more concerned about what had happened than she was. As if she wouldn't hunt this bot down herself if she needed to.

She’d managed to track down the mech that had taken her out of the air, and it didn’t seem like they had any connection to Sentinel. They also weren’t a bot she’d spoken to before. A dangerous prank or something else? At least the so-called jet twins weren’t beastformers, so if this person tried to target anyone other than her they’d need a more solid plan. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t going to be able to stay on the ground for the whole day. Hopefully these two fliers were easy to work with. She needed a break.

Good news: the kids actually seemed to like her.

Bad news: she almost got shot out of the sky again.

Multiple bots ducked out of her way in the halls, and she could understand why— she was absolutely fuming and it showed. She’d been much further in the air this time, and falling would have caused some real damage. Scared the kids, too. Security camera footage and the photo she’d managed to take should be more than enough to prove it was the same bot multiple times. They would be facing consequences. 

It wasn’t particularly difficult to slip into Ultra Magnus’ office unseen. A good thing too considering the attention the alternative would attract. Her adoptive father noticed her immediately, frowning when he saw what she was holding, “That is not the same one as yesterday.”

“Nope. I nearly got hit again while the kids were with me. Maybe this bot thinks they’re funny, I don’t know, but I got a picture. I compared it to the security camera footage and it’s the same bot as the other day.”

“Send me the picture and the footage. Leave the wire here. I’ll find the bot’s file and handle it as soon as I can.” Lantana nodded, a strong sense of relief washing over her,

“Thank you.”

“Go get some rest. I see no reason for you to hover around at base when it seems like someone may be targeting you.”

Returning home brought her exhaustion back into focus. By the time she shut the door behind her she was struggling to keep her optics open. A few hours of recharge it was. She’d only just settled onto the couch when, on track for her luck, she heard a ping. Change of plans— she’d recharge after she checked those notifications. Slag.

There were multiple asking for someone to step in and substitute for a pilot that hadn’t been able to come in, and all responses so far were that they had other work. Slag.

Lantana groaned, helm falling to rest in one servo. She could go; she’d flown on far less sleep before. That didn’t mean she enjoyed it. Still, some of those bots actually liked her… so. Decision made, Lantana pushed herself back onto her pedes. It’d be harder to recharge that night if she took a nap now anyway. 

At least she could bring Shiver with her for this. The little lizard robot skittered right up her arm to settle on her shoulder when she reached for it. Its calming em field was something she wished she could have with her on base, but the risk of something breaking the creature was too high.

The hangar was pure chaos, as usual. The place was a hazard even on slow days. She ended up having to take a detour when another bot nearly dropped the boxes they were carrying and she caught one that fell off the top of the stack. The ‘in training’ badge explained why they looked so stressed. They thanked her several more times than necessary for the help.

After that it was back to dodging other bots until she spotted the one she was looking for. He waved her over and proceeded to start chattering before she said a word, “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, I thought no-one was going to pick this up! I swear it’s always the important deliveries that someone calls out on. Anyway, it shouldn’t take long, it’s just that it’s medical supplies so it needs to be dropped off on time.”

Lantana raised an optical ridge as the other bot passed her a data pad, “Do I want to know why it looks like you’re actually vibrating?” The mech rested his servos on her shoulders with pleading optics. Oh Primus.

“There are so many new bots here that don’t know what they’re doing yet and I am so close to losing it. Never leave me. Please. I think my processor stopped working. I've been asked so many questions.” Lantana laughed,

“This is why you should be careful what you wish for. Now let me go, I have work.” The other bot made a show of pouting about her response, but let go of her shoulders and waved her off,

“Ugh, fine, go do the fun stuff.”

“I will.” She double checked where she needed to go before diving back into the horde, “At least he wasn’t kidding about this being quick… looks like it’s only one place. Hopefully I’ll get some actual recharge time tonight.” The ship was easy enough to locate— it really helped when the things were in the correct place. Some bots never seemed to get that memo. She did not like those bots.

—————————————————————

[“Hey! Hey, Lantana! Got a question for you.” Lantana huffed as a bot draped herself over her back and snatched the datapad from her servos,

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any plans for when the war ends, yet? If you don’t I have an idea~.”

“I don’t. What’s this idea of yours?” The other bot spun her chair around and settled onto her lap, pastel yellow wings fluttering in excitement,

“We should go flying! Not like we do for a mission or some fresh air, but a whole trip. We’ll just pick a direction and go. I bet we could find some place that hasn’t been touched by the war to hang out for a while. We could take some high grade and do whatever we wanted.” Lantana laughed,

“Yeah because there’d be so much to do out there.”

“I’m sure we could think of something.” The other chirped, undeterred, “It’d be fun out there all by ourselves.”

“So what, you’re going to try and get me drunk? You’d offline before you managed it.”

“One, your tolerance is stupid and unfair. Two, I can think of a few things to do even without getting any high grade involved.”

“Mm, I won’t make any promises, but I’ll think about it.”]

[Lantana let her humming trail off as the other bot plopped down beside her on the edge of the building, “I wish you’d sing more often, your voice is so pretty.”

“It’s not even an actual song, Mars.”

“Still! Apparently some bots used to sing for their careers. I bet you could have done it. I guess I wouldn’t get to keep you to myself then, though.” Lantana shook her head,

“Not a fan of sharing your toys?”

“Nope! Gotta keep my birdie all to myself~.”]

Weary yellow optics flickered and the projection on the ceiling disappeared, “If I’d promised, maybe you’d still… I never did take that trip. It wouldn’t have meant much.” Lantana rolled over to stare out the window. So many lights were on— bots awake just because they could be,

“It’s not fair. You were supposed to be here.”