ask-tfa-ministry-of-science

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happy 12th to the single greatest video of our generation

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( thinking deep thoughts about gladiator soundwave.... should anyone wish to do some gladiator stuff......my DMs are open... )

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not to be a number nerd on main but 2025 (45^2) will be the only square year most of us ever experience. the last one was 1936 and the next one will be 2116

[ask-tfa-ministry-of-science]

not to be a number nerd on main but 2025 (45^2) will be the only square year most of us ever experience. the last one was 1936 and the next one will be 2116

[ask-tfa-ministry-of-science]

Send 💋💙 for a PLATONIC New Year's kiss.

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Who's nerd is this?

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It had been an awful long time since someone came to the lab merely to drop off sweet treats. The last Perceptor can remember was stellar cycles back, when the pop musician Rosanna would drop by to visit. Idly, he wonders what ever happened to her... but he hasn't seen from her in ages, and she is, after all, a pop star. She'll be busy.

Regardless.

It's really quite nice of the little mech to have made these, thought as he retrieves one from his desk drawer.

...Ah.

Crumbs.

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I let myself rest and now I'm daydreaming about academia and academic research and writing again

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Mathematics, then; that'll be Mainframe's department. "I will see what can be done."

Oh, he should ask- "does Ultra Magnus know about this decision?" The related question, 'and does your crew know,' remains unasked, but perhaps it is implied.

you should let me join the ministry of science

"Oh?" His voice can't convey amusement in quite the way another mech might, but rest assured he is amused. "Have you decided on a change of career path?"

Perceptor will take this under consideration, certainly. Maybe Optimus would have a better time working with Wheeljack than with himself, though.

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you should let me join the ministry of science

"Oh?" His voice can't convey amusement in quite the way another mech might, but rest assured he is amused. "Have you decided on a change of career path?"

Perceptor will take this under consideration, certainly. Maybe Optimus would have a better time working with Wheeljack than with himself, though.

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You get a worried glance. One brow ridge raised, and a weary sigh.

Those are not at all high standards. Ah- but surely this is a joke.

Not a very funny one if it is.

“As long as they give me like an occasional glance and they don’t treat me like complete slag” you mean the bare minimum??? Like that’s barely the bare minimum that’s how low those standards are

what?? Nuh uh! Those are really high standards!

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Bumblebee smiled as he leads a child into the lab. "Hey Preceptor, Razor has something for you!"

Razorwing happily runs over, being careful of random wires and cables on the floor, and holds up a bag of cookies towards the scientist.

"Oh?"

How curious.

He sets his wafers to the side, fresh from their acid bath. The etching was done, and all that remained was to cut the chips out of the matrix, and then-. But that wasn't terribly important at the moment, was it?

It seemed that Bumblebee had brought a visitor.

"Greetings, Razor," he dips his helm, a nod, before accepting the bag of cookies. "Are these to share with the rest of the lab?"

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So..Is wheeljack correct?

I always know there would be a plot.

[ Wheeljack seems quite sure of himself. “I know I’m right,” he answers, with a tone that sounds like he’s smiling under his mask. ]

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Is there a sign on a wall that says "___ days since last incident" cause I feel like there is. Particularly for wheeljack.

The grad students are the ones who started it but Wheeljack is the root cause. They think they’re hilarious.

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Another explosion– which is business as usual, really.

It's still business as usual when Wheeljack limps down the hall, one arm fully off and carried in the other servo, paint job obscured by black soot, swearing with every turn of phrase he has collected in the past millennia.

"Ow, ow," becomes the next most audible thing, as the solvent shower douses the mech- and then, the crackle of electricity arcing through the rinse and shorting over damaged wires and plate metal.

Which is, ostensibly, better than leaving soot and corrosives on his person.

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Hiss... click.

The sound of one of the analytical instruments changes, ever so slightly. The flame and the air compressor both hiss slightly softer- as though the fuel had been cut and it was bleeding the last before fizzling out entirely.

Perceptor turns, frowning- points at it, the manner of a mentor gently scolding his charge. "Don't start up again. We just got you working."

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Omg ur back Perceptor

How's ur vacation?

[[ Perceptor looks at the message, confused. “Was I gone long? I did not-.”

He cuts himself off. “Oh.” The data pad in his hand informs him that the ‘time since last answer: 1.5 years. (Dude, where have you BEEN?)’

“Oh, dear.” ]]

“I did not mean to leave for so long. If it is any consolation, I have not been on vacation.”

No, there is always work to be done.