#ratcher (transformers)

[botboots]

Hey! I'm probably SOOO late to transformers fanfics and one shots but I've come with this prompt,( I hope you like it enough to write it!) could you write Ratchet x injured reader, g/n or female. Injured shoulder, and maybe trying to hide it from him? Also in Tfp? If all this isnt too much to ask? Thank you for considering! Have a good day/ night

a/n: heehee this one was fun. the dialogue is kinda splotchy because theres a lot going on in my brain rn but!! hope you like it <3 also reader is cybertronian bc there are NOT enough cybertronian!reader fics out there and theyre very fun to write tbh. hope thats okay!!

ALSO! guidelines have been updated so before anyone submits a new req please read it! and please please request mirage/rotb fics oh my god im obsessed with it ROTB WAS SO GOOD </33

warnings: very minor injuries, pining <3 word count: 1059 (GN, cybertronian!reader) continued under the cut

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The purple and green swirl of the ground-bridge closed behind you as you followed your team back into base, the lingering energy buzzing under your plating.

Glancing at Bumblebee, a small twinge of pity struck you as he made his way over to the medical bay. The scout had taken a few nasty punches from Breakdown and clearly wasn’t feeling too hot; dents littering his armor.

“We showed ‘em, huh?” your focus was snatched when Bulkhead caught you off guard with his usual celebratory elbow-bump, sending you stumbling a little from the force. A sharp pain ran up your arm to your shoulder and you winced.

“Yea- totally.” sending the wrecker a strained smile, you gave him a half-hearted push back. He tilted his head, about to open his mouth to ask you something when Miko booked it over to the two of you, questions spilling out of her mouth at a mile a minute. All of them were something gore or violence related, asking Bulkhead if he got any pictures of some “hardcore massacre-ing”. The girl's interests were a little concerning, but endearing. Nonetheless, you took the opportunity to slink away and avoid any more attention. Angling your helm, your face scrunched up at the sight - and feeling - of the wound on your shoulder.

Too focused on the fight in front of you, a stray Vehicon had been able to sneak up behind you and catch you by surprise. Fortunately for you, Vehicons were mass trained for quantity over quality and didn’t have the best shots. The blast grazed your shoulder, tearing between some of your paneling to the barely exposed wires. It hurt like a bitch at first, but adrenaline buried it enough that it wouldn’t distract you - plus it was small enough that none of your team noticed. Now that you were back at base, though, the piercing sting prodded at your processor incessantly. You did want to go and see Ratchet about it - always finding some kind of excuse to be around the mech - but he was dealing with Bumblebee right now, and you didn’t want to add to his plate. Not like it was anything life-threatening, anyway. You could just try and patch it up yourself - you’ve spent enough time with Ratchet to pick up a few things yourself.

You stole a glance at said medic, who you only just noticed was looking right at you. Immediately you realized from the questioning look on his face, raised brow and all, he had probably caught both your reaction to Bulkhead bumping into you and the grimace you had made at your shoulder. Optimistic, you shook your head at him, giving the mech a meager thumbs-up and a “I'm-actually-totally-fine” smile. He gave you a hard stare, and your spark sank when he motioned you over with a flick of his digits. You begrudgingly made your way over to the medical bay. As you neared, Ratchet had already cleared Bumblebee and was shooing him out. The scout passed you, and your attention was focused on Ratchet waiting with a cocked helm and his ever-present RBF. Standing awkwardly under his gaze, almost scrutinizing, you huffed. Without a word, the red and white medic picked up his scanner, turning it on with a loud click and running the green laser over your frame.

“Really, doc - I’m fine. It’s nothing.” you tried, and failed, as he kept the device lingering at your shoulder. With a deadpan look covering his faceplate, he put the scanner down and placed his servos over your shoulder plating. You grit your denta to keep a pained hiss from leaving you, wincing when he felt around the frayed wiring.

“Nothing, huh?” you pouted at his scoff, his metal brows knitted together as he examined the shot that had barely missed doing any serious damage. “Sit.” he ordered, gesturing to the medical berth while he moved to grab some tools from a nearby counter. Embarrassment was settling in your chassis, but you did as you were told.

It technically didn’t take long to patch you up, but the old mech made it seem like eons to you with the way he was muttering about “some of the team having egos too big for their own good.” It only made the burn of embarrassment grow, and you ducked your head when he gave you a pointed look. Ratchet was nothing if not thorough in ensuring you knew when he disapproved of something.

Soon enough he finished up, giving the patched wound a once-over.

“Anything else you’re not telling me?” he questioned, the familiar lilt of sarcasm back in his tone. That at least steadied your nerves a little.

“No, sir.” you mocked, raising one of your servos in a half-assed salute.

He scowled, crossing his arms, “I’ll have Optimus enforce mandatory health checks every time you come back to base.”

Frantically shaking your helm, you raised both servos defensively, “Okay, okay!” you sputtered, “Won’t happen again.” His optics narrowed, giving you a hard stare, and you released a heavy sigh. “Promise.”

Ratchet debated it for a moment, still having half a mind to just assign the checks anyway, but as you kept your optics trained on his, the mech’s will buckled and he huffed a quick, “Good.”

You both were staring at each other for just a moment too long before Ratchet gave a quick cough. “Come back if the pain flares up again.” he waved you off as he made his way back to his usual spot at the terminal. You blinked, watching him walk off with a slightly heated face. Awkward. Hopping off the medical berth, you were careful not to irritate your shoulder and mess it up more than it already was. As you walked past Bumblebee he whirred to grab your attention. You paused, turning your head to him with a raised metal brow.

The scout chirped at you teasingly from where he sat, nodding his head way too obviously towards you and then Ratchet, who was already burying himself back in his work. Your optics widened, immediately narrowing into an offended glare as you jabbed a digit towards him.

“Don't. Even.” you grumbled, folding your arms and walking briskly away from Bumblebee’s poorly stifled, chittering laugh that echoed behind you. Your previous pity for the mech quickly dissipated as your faceplate burned. Primus.

[kyrinthewarrior]

Some models of mer-mechs tend to wear out faster, preferring to take long naps when they can.

[primevein]

The Prime of His Youth: Book III: Prometheus' Gift: Ch34: Matrony

Knockout finished his ministration with Shockwave's arm. He stood up and Shockwave moved it a bit.

"Just be careful with." Knockout stated, "It still has a lot of healing to do."

"I must say, I'm impressed." Ratchet stated, "Your records hardly show any arm replacements."

"That's because most Decepticons are embarassed by it." Knockout stated.

"It is illogical." Shockwave stated.

"Except for the fact any weakness can get you to lose all of the respect you gained." Knockout said to him, and Shockwave just gazed at him. "Speaking from personal history, of course." Shockwave still just gazed at him. "So, how does it feel to be on the winning team?" Knockout asked. Shockwave again just stared him. "It turns out, they do things differently. You know, there isn't a constant threat of death for the slightest mistake."

"That is - illogical." Shockwave stated, "Without threat of repercussions, how can anything be accomplished?"

Ratchet scoffed, "Just because you don't have someone threatening to rip out your spark chambre every time you fail, doesn't mean there isn't consequences." Shockwave just stared at him.

"Well, your arm seems to be intact. Just take it easy, so says doctor." Knockout said to Shockwave.

"My knowledge far exceeds your own." Shockwave simply stated, as he stood up.

"Humans have a saying," Ratcher stated, "a doctor who treats himself has a fool for a patient."

"That is - logical." Shockwave distantly stated, and turned to walk away.

"I am rather impressed." Ratchet said to Knockout. "It seems like I underestimated you."

Knockout shyly looked at him.

* * *

Japheth pulled up to his house in New Kalis. He opened his driver-side flap. A dollform Arcee clambered out. Japheth then transformed. The two walked up to the doors that opened up for him. The two stopped, turning to look at Carron nervously pointing her carronade at them. Once she realized her mistake she quickly lowered her weapons, deathly afraid.

"Good job." Japheth stated, and she looked.

"Your job is to protect everyone." Arcee added.

"Are you not upset that I aimed my weapon at you?" she nervously asked.

"I guess you were never properly trained." Arcee sardonically stated. "You see someone come up, point your weapon at them, advance one to be recognized, ask how many are coming in, count everyone. Not that the War is going on, anymore, but you are literally here to keep the other fembots safe."

"I hope that includes me." June warmly said as she walked down the stairs.

"June!" Arcee excitedly said, and walked over to her. They hugged as soon as they got close enough to do so.

"You did a good job." Japheth said to Carron, "Though you'll learn to keep your cool when doing so. We don't you to shoot someone accidentally."

"Yes, Sir!" she exclaimed.

"Worst case scenario," Arcelia said from behind him. He turned around to see Arcelia and Roxana there, "Roxie can patch them up." she said with a smile. Roxana quickly rushed over into his arms for a hug. Arcelia was disappointed she had not thought of it first and quickly rushed over, hugging Japheth around Roxana.

Once the hug was complete, he started to look around. The walls were... brighter. It wasn't plaster and paint, but they definitely seemed brighter.

"Cybertron doesn't really understand aesthetics." June said from beside him, only to be quickly lifted up for a powerful hug. He then put her back down, "You think you were get tired of little old me."

"Well, you are little," Japheth said, patting her on the head, "Not as old as you used to be."

"I am still your mother, thank you very much." she asserted.

"I could stop hugging you." Japheth stated.

"You wouldn't?" June accusingly asked him.

"I don't know?" he asked with fake contemplation.

"Hey, I made it through your moody teenage years where you're too afraid to hug your mother." June accusingly said to him.

"Uh-huh?" he dismissively asked.

"I demand the hugs I am due as your mother!" she shouted. Before she realized it she had once again been picked up into a hug. He put her down and she vascillated between a smile and annoyance.

"He played you." Arcee said to June.

"He played me into getting hugs." June said, "Which I'm not going to give up. You girls don't know what it's like when your son goes through the phase when he won't hug his mother."

"None of us could know." Sirenia said as she walked down the stairs.

"Now that everyone's here, let's head to Caminus." Japheth stated.

"After we finish hugging." Arcee stated.

"After we finish hugging." Japheth stated.

"Home is where the heart is?" Sirenia asked.

"Well - yes." Japheth stated, "But I want to recruit."

* * *

Japheth stood before the Forgefire Parliament, with all of the seats filled. The same Centurions as last time. He knew this wasn't tradition, but maybe an adaptation to his ever changing whims. "Before we start," he uttered, "next time I call a Parliament, I don't want to see the same Centurions. I know I might be calling Parliaments a lot more than you are used to."

"We're not complaining!" a femme screamed from the gallery.

"But," he said, and paused for a moment, "I know that you WANT the Parliament to always be changing. You don't want individuals to have vested powers for Ronnacycles. Like on Cybertron." He uttered, and a palpable fear filled the Parliament. He then looked over to Sirenia, "How long are Caminoan years?"

"Days are about 1.13 times the days on Terra,"

"I was wondering about that." Japheth stated.

"About 378 days in a year." Sirenia continued.

Japheth looked back over the Parliament, "New Centurions at least once a year."

"If a Parliament is called," the Mistress of Flame stated, "all in favour?" she asked, and all of the Centurions but Michaela raised their hands, "Motion passes. We have to admit, we have gotten a little complacent."

"He does change things every Megacycle or two." Tethys stated.

"Is that why you called us?" Windblade augustly asked.

"Hm?" Japheth asked, "No, I'm here to recruit."

"Recruit?" Amalthea curiously asked

"Cybertron is going to find me a ship to track down the lost colonies, and I was looking for?.." he asked, and hundreds of hands were raised. It seemed to be between 1/4 and 1/3 of all femmes present. He audibly sighed, "I can't take all of you!" he shouted, and most of the hands were dropped. One of them was his mother, in the gallery with the others, "Mom!?" he called.

"What?!" June asked, "That sounds like fun!"

"You are my?.."

"I can't expect special treatment!" she replied, and he sighed.

"We'll start interviews. Arcelia will be in charge. Everyone, please make sure you list where you want to do it. The point of the interview is to prove your are NECESSARY for my crew. I know Caminoans are not used to competition, but we don't really have much choice, here." he stated.

* * *

The group was sitting around the seating in their house, "Ciel, I want to make sure we have time to watch a movie or two."

"And cuddle." Arcee added.

"And cuddle." Japheth stated. He then looked at June, "Alright, if you don't want special treatment, why do I NEED you on the ship?"

June scowled at him.

"You brought this on yourself, June." Arcee said to her.

"I suppose I did?" June asked. She looked distant for a moment as she thought this over. When she looked back in his eyes with a lot more confidence, "How many Cybertronians know anything about treating Humans?" she confidently asked.

"Knockout and Ratchet." Sirenia said. June gave her a shocked, accusing gaze. Sirenia then looked at Japheth with shock and worry, "Does this mean I'll have to..."

"You get special treatment." Japheth firmly said to her, and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Then why don't?.." June asked.

"It was your idea." Arcee said with glee, and June sighed. "Come on, June, this is your son. If you can't convince him, how could anyone else?"

June thought for a moment, until something occured to her, "Because I told you to." she firmly, confidently said, but Japheth was completely unmoved. She furled her brow as she thought about it more, "Because I asked you?"

"That would work." Japheth stated.

She smiled for moment until it occured to her, "Would?"

"You're the one who didn't want special treatment." Arcee chided her. June looked around, and saw bright smiles on everyone's faces.

"Then I might have to do it myself." Japheth stated.

"Do what?" Arcee asked.

"Give her an official position in my court." Japheth said with a bright smile, and he looked his mother over.

"Oh, adviser!" June added.

"Hmm?" Japheth asked, "Ciel is already my procurator." He thought about it for a moment, "How about diplomat?"

"I don't know if I'm that good?.." June asked. "You are so good at it, yourself."

"You're not making this easy." Japheth said with a bright smile, and she seemed flustered. He paused for a moment to let her stay flustered, "Matron?" he asked.

She dropped her head backwards, "After all that, that's what?.."

"You saying you don't want it?" Arceed asked her.

"I didn't say that." June uttered.

[cloudraker]

×VSC×

Aaaaaa sweet!!

Could I possibly ask for TFP Bulkhead, Ratchet and another other bots of your liking (if you'd like) with a male s/o who absolutely loves how cool they look? Knows all about cars and geeks out seeing them because they just look so damn awesome? Always loves to ride in their alt modes as well because, awesome fucking alt mode, and it's really comfy and he loves to just chat happily with them. Tends to fall asleep in their back seat as well or even on them when I'm bot mode. I just love these robot aliens so much grrrr they're so cool looking

I also hope this isn't too much!! You're always free to decline this request!!

For sure! Thank you for requesting :D please excuse the lack of detail in the title, I wasn't sure how to write it out without it being super wordy ^^' and you're right!! they're insanely cool looking?? like i genuinely think tfp ratchet has one of the best ratchet designs,,,

TFP Bulkhead and Ratchet with a male S/o who likes their alt mode

under the cut :)

Bulkhead

Congrats! You probably know more about the schematics of his alt mode than he does

He isn't used to being fawned over in this manner, and honestly finds all the attention to be a bit embarrassing (in a good way!). That doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate it, he just gets rather flustered if you compliment him more than like twice in a short time

Has no issues with you riding around in his alt mode, and even volunteers to drive you places if he's got the time

The first time you fell asleep in his alt mode he was worried something had happened to you and he hadn't noticed. After being woken up by his voice asking if you were okay, he was taken aback when you said you had fallen asleep because you found his seats to be so comfortable

He'll ask if you've been getting enough sleep, and then apologize for waking you up

Having you fall asleep on him when he was in bot mode was quite a shock! He didn't think metal plating would be comfortable enough to sleep on, but here you were anyways

Afterwards you explain that he's just so warm and you trust him to keep you from falling. He really isn't used to being seen as somebody safe enough to fall asleep on; he's a wrecker and an all around big bot, but he's touched that you consider him someone you can sleep around

Will happily listen to you talk about cars even if he doesn't really understand what you're talking about. He's got a few questions, but mostly he's content to listen and absorb information

Ratchet

The first time you tell him how cool you find his alt mode to be, he tells you to go hang out at the hospital

Honestly tunes out your rambling at the start, choosing to focus on his work than whatever it is you're saying. He grows fond of your voice over time, though, and finds a balance between work and listening

Though he'd never say it out loud, he finds the sheer amount of trivia you know about vehicles to be rather endearing

Any questions you have about Cybertronian alt modes and vehicles he's willing to answer, even pulling up diagrams and old texts to support his 'lessons'

You don't often get to see his alt mode, but when you do he can't help but feel a bit flustered at the level of excitement you show

It's even more rare that he'll offer a ride, only having done so a few times in the span of your relationship. If he sees that you're particularly upset about something, he'll ask if you want to go for a drive, claiming he needs a break from work

If he's in an especially good mood he might even offer to drive with the sirens on

He isn't too surprised the first time you fall asleep in his alt mode; it's an ambulance and the seats are surprisingly plush. If there aren't any pressing matters to attend to, he's content driving around for a while until you wake up on your own

He's still gonna chastise you for not getting enough rest, even if you have been. There's nothing wrong with napping, he says, just don't make a habit of it

Ratchet's been the one to pick you up a few times, and each time he can't help the affectionately lighthearted sigh at your obvious glee as you run over to him

[transformezzzzzz]

IDW TIKTOKS. I MADE MORE. HAVE FUN.

⚠️hornets,swearing⚠️

[acornswords]

Lost, Found, & Collected.

A Transformer’s Story.  

A story of how an Earth-stranded Ratchet finds the mission: “Protect Hope”.

Warnings of: Violence, Drugs, and mentions of Human Trafficking

Notes: I’ve decided to post some chapters on tumblr as well! Here’s chapter one, and if this gets enough notes I’ll post chapter two & three! All chapters are posted to AO3 already - and will be continually updated there! 

1998.  The tow truck’s tires kick the dirt road dust into Michael Lambert’s lungs as it brings in his latest buy.  Coughing the congestion away, he greets the burly driver with a humoring smirk as he trudges to see the towed vehicle.  The burly man, Todd McGiver, pats the helm of his own truck, and makes his way next to Lambert.

“Not the prettiest buy, I reckon,” McGiver chuckles, placing his hand on Lambert’s shoulder.

Lambert moves away from McGiver’s touch and moves to place his hand upon the windshield of his purchase, as he clears some of the dust and he inquires, “Engine work?”

“Didn’t bother to check. Thought you should do the honors.”

Lambert grunts, and reaches for the door handle, only to be stopped by McGiver’s question, “Out of all the cars, trucks, and SUVs on the market – why in the Sam Hill did ya’ buy this rusted junk?”

Lambert lets his hand fall to his side, “This ‘rusted junk’ is a fix up, and with that fix up and a retouch with a wonderful new paintjob, McGiver, this 1990 Ford Econoline e350 will bring us all the cash you could ever dream of.”

McGiver laughs, a hearty laugh but one with a twinge of mockery, after a stare from Lambert, McGiver clears his throat, straightens, and asks: “Jesus, Mike.  What has gotten into you? How could you look me in my blue ol’ eyes and tell me that some rusted, dusted ambulance is the key to our ‘business’?”

Lambert huffs, opens the door, and turns the key in the ignition – a rumble of power rips through the frame of the ambulance and its lights flicker on only momentarily.  As the vehicle shakes, Lambert’s mouth curls in to a grim, venomous smile. He steps away from the rattling ambulance, and places his hand onto McGiver’s shoulder. Giving McGiver’s shoulder a tight gripping, his smile uncoils into a snarl as he states: “Because, Todd, no one is suspecting an ambulance to be transporting our kinda cargo. Now, unhook my purchase, bring it to my workshop, and by high-time next week, inform all of our associates of our new ride – and their new means of transport.”

With a gulp and a nod of his head, McGiver is released from Lambert’s grip. Scrambling to the still rumbling ambulance, McGiver unhooks the vehicle from his tow truck, seats himself in the ambulance’s driver seat, and begins to drive it to Lambert’s workshop.  The property Lambert owns is a large one, filled to the brim with automotive parts, trash, and oil puddles. A cheap plot of land in the deadlands of New Jersey, close enough to the congested inter-cities to establish business, yet far enough away that no one questions anything. Some consider it a junkyard, but it is not one most know or use. Not that Lambert minds, more attention to his land, more people begin to question. The parts and automotive shells placed throughout his land are from vehicles he purchased, scrapping for parts and overturning cars to certain “higher-ups”. The transportation business is what Lambert works for, and who he works for (mainly) is that of the Ricci Family. A mafia family that is spread throughout New Jersey and New York, carriers of many trades and scandals but most recently into the growing market of heroine distribution. All intricacies and all illegal, the Ricci Family has been using Lambert’s Car Services for years.

As the ambulance’s exhaust grieves with every rolling motion, Lambert raises his garage door slightly high to accommodate the ambulance’s rear. And once the entire vehicle is within the walls of Lambert’s workshop, the garage door is lowered, and the fix up begins.

Hours were spent on the tuning of the ambulance, and as days and nights past the grin on Lambert’s face continued to grow.  He was going to be the genius the Ricci Family could not deny, who has even thought of using an old, decommissioned ambulance as a means of illegal drug trafficking? Not any of the other competing Families, nor the inter-city gangs – No, it was only just Lambert, and he was proud of his idea.  He’s work with the ambulance’s engine and tires was done, and now all he had to do was repaint and ship it off to Dominick Ricci, and a hefty sum of cash would soon be placed discreetly in his mailbox.

And as the final coats of paint dried, Lambert left his workshop to make the call to Dominick. With in the darkness of the garage, silence incases every corner. The ambiance of the garage is comforting, that is until its shattered by the sound of the ambulance’s engine revving to life.  Its newly replaced headlights flash on, dispersing the darkness. The engine stutters, only for a moment, and a voice grumbles:

“Where in Primus’ name am I?”

The engine of the ambulance roars again, and the voice continues, “Haven’t felt this good in a while…don’t change the fact I have no way of knowing where I am.”

The vehicle’s rearview mirrors move as if to look around it’s enclosure, and just as it was about to accelerate its tires to escape, Lambert walks into the garage.  Looking at the ambulance with a tilt of his head, he says his thoughts aloud: “Did I leave you on? Can’t remember – Guess I was too excited at getting ya finally fixed”

The ambulance’s voice makes no reply, and its engine continues a slow and steady hum. Lambert goes to its door, turns the key and the ambulance’s engine dies out. “No need to burn fuel, Dominick will be needing you by the end of the night,” and just as quick as he came in, Lambert left the ambulance in the same distilled darkness.  

***

“So, ya tellin’ me – me and the old man – that the best way to transport the new goods is usin’ this ambulance here?” Dominick crosses his arms and stares skeptically at the ambulance.  

“Yes, even more so if you use it during the night – however during the day is fine as well. No one, especially cops, take a second glance at ambulances and I’ve never see ‘em pull one over, have you?” Lambert retorts.

“No, but most aren’t unmarked! And whatta ‘bout other ambulances! They can call us in on just their suspicion! Especially because this thing ain’t registered!”

Lambert growls, and begins to pace the room, until finally and idea strikes him, “Remember Vinny?”

Dominick rolls his eyes, “Vinny Rossi? Vinny Russo? Columbo? Bianchi? There’s alotta Vinnies pal, be more specific!”

“De Luca! Vinny De Luca! He used to be big into forging documents and shit, remember?”

“Course, got me my first fake ID, and passport. What’s ya point?” Dominick huffs.

“My point, Dominick, is that he can forge a fake ID for this ambulance! A code in their systems that can override their verifications, so our dear ambulance is valid in all counties, despite being unmarked.”

Dominick tilts his head, and ponders on the idea, “Logical in theory, but have you met my cousin Vinny? He ain’t a real hacker, just a forger!”

“Lucky for, Dominick, I know just the guy.” With a quirk of his lips, Lambert leaves the garage, with Dominick behind him, to make a very important call.

***

“So, I’ve got your ambulance registered in all the counties throughout New Jersey and the Big Apple, upstate NY gonna take a bit longer, maybe a month or two – but I’ll get it, of course if Vinny continues to help with the credentials.” A filtered voice comes through the phone’s receiver as Lambert sits within the cab of the ambulance.  

“Of course, the Ricci’s and I are in your debt, Gerard” Lambert’s voice drips with satisfaction, and the passenger door opens to a smirking Dominick as he climbs in and situates himself.  

“Big words, might hold you up to ‘em, Lambert. Till next time.” And with that the phone call cut off, and Lambert tucks his cell away. He turns the key into the ignition and backs out of his garage, and starts down the road to their first pick up.

“So, why are ya’ comin’ again, Lambert?  You fix the transport, not ride it.” Dominick relaxes in his seat, and looks disinterestedly out the window.

“I wanna make sure the transport holds up, make sure that you don’t blow this up for me. This could be a huge business, ambulance trafficking transport and such, need to see it first hand working.”  Lambert keeps his eyes on the road, and the conversation ends with Dominick’s “Fair enough”.

As they roll up to the run-down apartment, the two men leave the ambulance running as they leave to meet their contact. The ambulance waits in the silence of the street for several minutes, the street lights flicker and all that can be heard is the soft grumbling of a voice, “Comm. To Optimus Prime. Optimus? Optimus, can you hear me? I’m still located on planet Earth, more specifically on the East Coast? Optimus, if you can hear me, or even if you get this message later, know that I will try my best to find you and the team, but until then I may have to stay undercover with these humans. Please, if you are hearing this – send your coordinates immediately over Comm. I’d open another receiver, but I fear the Deceptions, more specifically Soundwave, will be tracking any open links. Until then, I’ll be listening, Old Friend.”

And just as the voice quiets, the two men bustle out of the doors of the apartment with large crates, and following behind them is one woman. They open the ambulance’s back cab, and place the cargo of crates within the holding, then the woman climbs within the cab, and sit against the crates with a thump.

“Ay, watch where ya’ put ya’ weight! That’s the new shit, and we don’t need no complications” Dominick growls.

“Bite. Me.” The woman mumbles. The ambulance’s engine seems to sputter – the sound almost mimicking that of a chuckle – until Dominick climbs into the cab and hits the woman across the face.

“Now, you listen here, tramp,” with the last word Dominick spits on the ground of the cab, “Your daddy set you up as payment – now you seem to be a little damaged but the way your goin’ it won’t matter. While the Ricci’s pride ourselves in Drug Trafficin’, we ain’t no strangers to human. Daddy couldn’t pay us with enough of the good stuff, so he offered you.  Now, as Ricci property, your gonna shut ya’ fuckin’ mouth or I’m gonna fuckin’ shut it for ya.” And with a growl Dominick pushes the woman’s shoulder hard enough to topple her over. As her back hits the edge of one of the crates with a thwrack, Dominick slams the cab doors and makes his way to the front.

With a roar of the ambulance’s engine, the woman looks outside of the windows of the cab’s door, and as the glow of each streetlight passed, she quietly hums herself to sleep. As she lays her head upon the cab’s metal flooring, she swears the engine hums along with her.

***

The drive Dominick and Lambert took to deliver the cargo was 5 hours, after delivering the cargo to its destination, a gas station owned by Antonio Ricci, the two men begin to drive to their next destination, the drop off point for the woman who lays in the back of the ambulance cab.

The woman is sprawled upon the floor of the cab, beaten for mocking Dominick, and voice hoarse for screaming at each passing car that was viewed in the windows. Her song had died in her throat, but the metal she lays upon was not as cold as it once was.  She curls herself into a position, and tears stream down her sore face and pool on the metal flooring. She holds onto her stomach, stroking it, trying to find words of comfort. Dominick, in only this sense, was merciful when he began his beatings. She is carrying, and to him no “real man,” would ever hurt a kid, even if the mother was “a dirty fuckin’ useless whore”.

Just as the last hour of the ride was ending, and the destination of drop off for the woman came near, the woman begins to scream.  Not out of fear, but actual pain.  The two men pull off into an empty road, and open the cab doors.  Writhing in pain, the woman’s tears stream down her agonized face.

“Tell me, tell me this fuckin’ broad ain’t havin’ her fuckin’ kid right fuckin’ now” Dominick grasped his forehead, and his eyes dart between Lambert and the woman.

“Christ” Lambert lifts himself into the cab and turns the woman over, “Come on, Dominick, get ya’ ass in here! Can’t deliver her bleeding and cryin’!”

“Can’t deliver her fuckin’ kid either, Lambert! What the fuck, what the fuck! No way I’m gettin’ all up in that broad’s bleeding and being a fucking nurse! No fuckin’ way man!”

“Are you fuckin’ – Alright, fine Dominick, I’ll deliver the kid, but at least fuckin’ get in here and hold. Her. Down.” Lambert grits the last words, and Dominick scrambles into the cab and grips the woman’s wrists and hold her down.

“You fuckin’ worthless bitch, couldn’t wait to pop ya fuckin’ kid until we got ya’ to the drop off, could ya’?” Dominick sneers and through her gasps and tears the woman was able to quiet usher a “Fuck, you.”

Before Dominick could retort, Lambert yells, “Dominick sit‘er up! We need this kid out before anyone hears the fuckin’ screaming”

“Lambert, we’re in a fuckin’ ambulance, don’t think anyone gonna question us too much.”

After 8 grueling hours, a small scream can be heard piercing the walls of the ambulance’s cab.  The infant, born two weeks early, wails as its hands can barely flex or grip.  The woman, exhausted, calls for her child and Lambert hands the babe over.  She sits against the walls of the cab, dried tears and sweat cake her skin, her eyes drop, her lips cracked and bleeding. She smiles at the child, her chest heaving too hard, and she softly coos at her child.

Lambert stares just for a moment, and calls Dominick to discuss what to do next.  Left alone with her babe, the woman, eyes barely in focus, her breath trembling, whispers in a cracked voice, “If anyone can hear me, if anyone is listening, please, please, protect this babe. She’s, she’s the greatest accomplishment, greatest joy I’ve experienced. Please, if your listening, someone, anyone, please. Please.”

The baby continues to wail, and the all too frail mother coos for it to quiet, and just as she begins to hum, the baby tries to grasp her hair, but fails. The mother’s hum begins to falter, yet it is accompanied by the hum of the engine of the ambulance. The mother smiles, her eyes closing, and she slowly slips onto the warm metal flooring of the cab, she curls to her child, her breath trembling, as she whispers, “Protect Hope”.

[simping-on-the-daily]

Okay so while I'm a sucker for Megatron angst about 'Orion becoming Optimus meant losing his memories and Megs is sad about losing his friend' because yes angst,,,,, how does Ratchet feel????

Like, they met before the wars, and Ratchet most likely met Megatronus once. Does Optimus just think 'ah yes Ratchet, my first ally and Autobot comrade :D'

And Ratchet has to deal with losing his friend and pretending that he didn't know Optimus before his Prime transformation??? That he has to accept Orion is gone,,,, and right here is standing the only hope against the Decepticons, but it's just a copy of the friend he once had?

Do Megatron and Ratchet just like,,,,,,, stand on the Nemesis, Ratchet in stasis cuffs in silence as both of them are mourning their friends?

Like, Ratchet met Orion before the war

And to see his friend come out from the Core a completely different person, and everyone is trying to tell him it's still Orion but it's not Orion because Orion would have remembered that time Ratchet was partying and slipped on his high grade energon,,,,

AND BACK ON THE MEGATRON AND RATCHET BONDING Ratcher has just been interogated or something and he's thinking about the base and the kids and Megatron just says

'You know, Orion used to do X.'

And Ratchet, even though he knows that this is Megatron, he's no longer Megatronus, he can't help but say 'Yeah, he did'.

AND FUCK DOES THIS MEAN RATCHET WOULD ALSO HAVE TO DEAL WITH LOSING MEGATRON????

[peikonlainen]

New passion cartoons and other stuff for me!

Transformers prime! Just saw 1rst season and I'm ready for more action, will Optimus get his memories back!? Also loving Soundwave, Megatron derp face, bitchy Starscream, Optimus Prime's voice, why they made Ratcher lovable grump and I am freaking enjoying all characters in the show! Make me wanna draw and put 1000 ideas into oc's !

Duckula. I just saw this for ducks and giggles without knowing anything about the show and fell for it big time. I think I love Igor now even he is rather aggressive with his methods to turn Duckula to be his liking

Darkwing Duck. New Ducktales throw me back in 90's nostalgia, my goodness I forgot there is so many other characters that aren't ducks in that series! Also the liqutator is cooler than I remembered and Negaduck was sillier than I remembered, what are the odds! Also old oc ideas need to be put on paper!

Perus Aku Ankka sarjikset, Ankronikka on heittänyt bensaa liekkeihin! Kerrankin kaipaisin Aku ankka kokoelmaani porukoilta tänne, mutta välissä on yli 300 km ja pahuksen pandemia.