#Cable Testing Lab

[kcindiatestlaboratories]

Wire and Cable Testing Lab

Our wire and cable testing lab renders the service of testing all the wires and cables in the building up to scratch. This includes everything from the supply point of incoming through the point of use taking into consideration everything in-between such as sockets, light fittings, switches, etc.

[andmaybegayer]

Rambling: So much of this is just like. It's all the money, you can't get around the money. Engineering is primarily a cost optimisation problem, so is business, where do you buy your parts, how much do you pay your labour. The companies can make equal quality goods cheaper in China because of the industrial base. Western workers don't want to work in manufacturing because it doesn't pay as much or as reliably as other jobs.

I like reading articles and watching videos about factories and a thing you find with a lot of American factories is they're often highly specific niche industries where they don't have much competition or they're really low volume where less intensive manufacturing processes still work or they have big military contracts that give them their base income. Really it's wild how every little engineering shop in the US requires base level security clearance because they make the cable harness for the Hornet or whatever. And crucially, crucially: they employ 100 people. Planning to work for one of these companies is like planning to be a pro baseball player but you make $35/hr.

I studied in South Africa, and I studied electrical engineering, but like. That was my fifth or sixth choice from a personal interest perspective? As a teenager I was really into biochem. I really wanted to work on like. Bioreactor stuff. South Africa has okay industrial chemistry but not that much biochem. So why would I go spend five years getting a biochem Masters and hope I could find a job at one of like six companies. It's a bad move! Once again, baseball player odds! Mostly if you're lucky you'll get to fuck around in a half-related field for a few years and then you'll wind up with some office job that you found because it turns out running tests on paint shearing isn't personally fulfilling enough to make you stay in a lab job.

Hell, even taking the Good Hiring Engineering Job market, it's a goddamn pain in the ass to find any actual engineering work. I applied to dozens of internship positions every semester at engineering firms and workshops and never so much as heard back, whereas I could go to the software job fairs and get two offers and several interviews for a vacation job in a couple weeks. You can swim upstream to get in there but even if you're willing to take the pay cut, engineering jobs are slow moving and slow hiring, and in small departments your professional progression is often gated behind someone retiring or dying.

A while ago someone (was this Reggie? sounds like him EDIT: YEP) was talking about how part of the reason why no one in the US for the past 20 years can do like, epitaxial growth optimisation isn't because there's some philosophical or educational divison, but because anyone committed and driven enough to spend months optimizing that would just put that energy and commitment into going into software or becoming a quant or some other higher yield option. Meanwhile if you're a driven and focussed ladder climber in China there's dozens of factories looking for someone to do exactly this. The people in the West who are so into this that they still do it are often in academia, not industry, and that's an even more competitive and impenetrable sector to get into. Getting a PhD grad job in academic chip manufacturing is miserable, it's basically a six year long interview process that costs you hundreds of thousands of dollars that has a 0.1% chance of panning out.

Actually, I did once do a factory internship, it was my only nepotism internship, at a construction materials factory where my dad was a manager, and it was really interesting work! I had a lot of freedom in a small engineering team and I spent a while understanding a bag filling machine and reading manuals and tuning the control process and talking to floor workers and designing sheet metal parts to improve their jobs. And when I talked to the engineer supervising me I found out he was on a six month contract that wasn't getting renewed and he would be leaving the company basically the same time my internship ended. That company hadn't hired a full-time process engineer in ages, and probably never would if they could avoid it. Not encouraging!

People often say you should get into the trades because they pay well and are material fulfilling work. This is like. It's an elision. Successful tradespeople are in very high demand, but becoming a successful tradesperson is very, very finicky. I worked with a lot of electricians and millwrights and technicians, and for every tech who was successful and running a roaring business there were five guys stuck in eternal apprenticeships or struggling to make a name for themselves in the industry on their own. Some trades are great for this, other trades are 90% training scams where you spend nine months and five thousand dollars on a course that gives you a certificate almost no one cares about.

Every now and then I talk to an installation tech I used to work with who has a bunch of CCTV and security certs he got in the DRC, and he is just absolutely struggling to get by. There's already enough successful companies to serve the demand, why would you take a risk on this fly-by-night? He could find a technical job, and he does, but it's a dead end, everyone wants a base technician forever, they don't want you to upskill and move on. They hire in an external electrician to come in for an hour sign off on your work, and that's all you need.

You can't develop an industrial base unless it's appealing to work in the industrial base. If you're an industrialising nation, the appeal is "It's not farm work and you might get some real money instead of a sack of barley" but in a modern society you need to pay at least as well as the office jobs. If your industrial sector is small it can afford to only hire the most qualified people because it's a labour buyer's market, and that's how you produce a massive knowledge gap.

[ratwithhands]

"Mind stopping for a quick check before class?"

I've been rewatching Kill La Kill and remembered an old concept I had stored away from last year. That one got scrapped ages ago for being hard to write, so I started on a clean slate for this one. I think if submas were at Honnōji Academy, they'd either be engineering tech for the cable car system linked to the school or they'd work in the disciplinary committee to look after students.

I'm still roughing some details out for this but basically their job is to catch all the students who get absolutely bodied during the plot and run them back to the infirmary so they can come in the next day. When there aren't big fight scenes to deal with, they mostly just patrol the halls to check on students and make sure people aren't hurting each other during school hours. Consider them student health and welfare agents I suppose. They do straightforward work and were granted two star goku uniforms to make sure they had the speed and strength necessary to carry and treat students in a timely manner. Can't have an active student body if it takes weeks to get through patching them all, right?

Anyways I might design a powered up form for these guys later. It likely wouldn't be much different, but it'd be something light for them to operate in. No room for accessories when you're resetting bones and dressing up burns; I might consider having their hats swap out for masks and wide collars for lab coat lapels. It'd be fun to have their enforcement tools get turned into medical/surgical implements too, though that's gonna take some testing.

Bonus time: someone asked for oil. Do not oil them.

Have a good day.

[shadowbriar]

Bob Reynolds — Catalyst II

Pairing : Robert "Bob" Reynolds x (she/her) doctor!Reader Word Count : more than 200 words. Warning : Thunderbolts spoilers. Sets during Bob's Project Sentry era. Mentions of medical procedures. Not proofread cause I'm doing this on my phone. Synopsis : For once, he actually let himself grow comfortable in the gentleness of another. Notes : i think i've gathered the rough idea for this short series. be mindful that i might not update as fast as you'd like, so drop a comment if you'd wanna be tagged for future chapters! please donate to my kofi so I can get a new laptop and write properly cause drafting though phone is hell, i tell you.

↞ Part I

Bob's hands were always cold. That's one of the first things she noticed about him.

At first, she thought it was just because he was nervous or that the room was too cold for him to stay in. They have to keep the temperature a little below the average to minimise the chance of contamination in the lab, but as she learned more about him, reading all the substance abuse and his history of mental illnesses, his cold hands were certainly caused by something greater than just the cold air.

Bob wasn't even supposed to be one of her patients. He was one of the junior doctors'. A subject that they didn't even expect to be able to survive the first trial—seeing the many potential underlying health issues he might have from his previous lifestyle—but it just so happened that she came to the lab the morning his procedure was being done, and one look at those innocent, terrified eyes, and she knew she couldn't leave him out of her sight.

"Do you feel any pain right now, Mr. Reynolds?"

"No," he answers, looking down to the many cables attached to his chest right now "and— uh, please don't call me Mr. Reynolds,"

"Okay, what would you like to be called then?" she asked as she fixed his IV drip.

"Bob, please call me Bob,"

"Okay, then, Bob," she nods, putting her hands in her coat pocket as she speaks to him "I've seen that you've got quite the history with substances, and since there have been cases where patients grow certain level of drug resistance from substance abuse, I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you,"

Bob looks at her with quite the fright in his eyes, barely blinking as he tries to understand her words.

"Look, I'm not here to judge or snitch on you to anyone. I just want to make sure that you're okay and will be okay," she smiles softly, hoping he wouldn't feel threatened anyhow "and since we'll be seeing a lot of each other, I figure we might as well be friends,"

"Friends..?"

She nods, giving him her first name, "I'll call you Bob, and you can call me that. And since we're calling each other by our first names, technically, we're already friends,"

Bob smiles hesitantly.

She watches him a little closely. Bob's smile lines were deep. There's a shy dimple on his right cheek that would only appear if he was fully grinning. The curls on the corner of his lips rarely reach his eyes, but when they do, she finds it hard to peel her eyes off him. She also notices that he speaks louder to himself than when he was conversing with anyone. Bob always speaks in question, as if he was afraid to be persistent or cause any disturbance to anyone. A habit that she couldn’t help but to feel a little sad of for there must be a persisting cause to have moulded him into this hesitant man.

"Do you think this test is as true as how they promote it?" Bob asks, looking down to his IV-ed hand.

"How do they promote it?"

"That it'll make you better," he answers, looking up to her "they say it's for people who wants to make something better out of themselves,"

She remained quiet, watching him intently.

"Do you think it'll make me better?" Bob asks once again.

"I don't know," she shakes her head, answering his question truthfully "but what I do know, is that I will do all that I can to make sure that you'll be okay. That you're not hurt in any way,"

"That's not really what I signed up for," he replies, not meeting her eyes. There was a clear disappointment in his heart as he let out a sigh, picking on his nails as if he was regretting the decision he’s made. She wonders if she should just excuse herself or try to offer him any better words of comfort, but before she could say anything, Bob finally looks up with half a smile on his face "at least, I gained a friend,"

She smiles back at him, hoping that it looks as genuine as the fondness she feels for the man, "I'll try my best, Bob,"

And that's how it all started. How she unknowingly committed herself to a patient like never before. Every time she came to make notes of his progress, every time she checked his blood pressure—even though she knew that the nurses have done it prior to her visit—she would always touch his hand to see if they were getting warmer.

There's a lot of wounds Bob has that he hasn't shared with her, lots of things she wished he would let her heal, but trying to fix his cold hands feels like the right first step. She wanted to make sure that he was getting better, that she was healing the causes of his cold hands, whichever it might be. Perhaps it was the drug doing all the work, but even then, knowing that she developed it and monitoring his progress now, still made her feel content on the little help she could offer for him.

"Your hands are getting warmer," she notes with a smile.

"I— yeah, they are, aren't they?" Bob says, rubbing his hands together from the pleasant surprise "I've always had cold hands all my life,"

She smiles, feeling happy from his beaming response.

"Do you have cold hands, as well?" Bob asks.

"Never as cold as yours were," she answers, opening her palms "do you want to touch my hand?"

Bob looks up to see her eyes. There was evident surprise written on his face, as if he never expected anyone to share him such an offer. He looks back down to her open, inviting hand, hesitating, "Can I?"

"Of course,"

Bob's fingers were shaking a little as he reached for her hand. He places his palm on top of hers, laying it flat as if he doesn't know how to properly touch her. The size of his hand could easily envelop hers, a little warmer than ever, but still colder than hers.

"You're warm," he mentions, eyes still glued to their hands "small, but warm,"

She smiles at him, watching as he lets out a little sigh of satisfaction, "You'll get there. We'll get your hands warm soon, Bob,"

—-

The dizziness in her head seeps in as she slowly regains her consciousness. The lights above her head were blinding, scorching her pupils as it showered her with unnecessary brightness. She tried to cover her eyes with her hands, but her body was bound tight to the bed she's laying at. Strapped down to the point that she couldn't even turn her body.

"You're awake," a voice calls "I'm very sorry, Kid, but you left me no choice,"

She turned her head to see the man, head still hazy from the subdued tranquilliser, "You're a sick man, Houston,"

He shows a pitied smile, looking as if he knew himself just how much he's disappointed her.

"Let me go," she demands weakly, moaning as the ache on her body starts to settle "get these straps off me,"

The man shakes his head with regret, "I can't do that,"

"You— you're killing these people.. how could you?" she asks with a louder voice, struggling to free herself "I thought we were doing something good here, something important that would help the world. Why would you alter my serums, Houston, why?"

"Because you only wanted to make people better, not best," he begins, standing from his seat and turning to back her. He runs his hand through his white hair, frustrated of the circumstances they've found themselves in "you— you're too good, too kind, and we can't afford to be that. Not right now,"

She watches him without a word, confused as to what he’s trying to explain.

"We don't need better people. Better, is not enough. We need the best, and you can't be the best if there's plenty of you,"

"So, what, you let these people die and hope that one of them would survive?"

"That's the idea, yes," he answers as he faces her again "Project Sentry needs to produce a hero that is the best. A god, if not something greater. And we can't have that if they can't even survive a little molecular alteration from the serum,"

"You're injecting them with cancer," she argues, closing her eyes as the weight of guilt washes over her "no one is going to be able to come out of this experiment alive,"

"I fear you've underestimated yourself, Kid," Dr. Houston says with a little smile, walking closer to her "not only did you develop the serum, but you also took care of the man until he survived it. You healed and made him greater, at the same time,"

She looks at him with confounded expression, feeling her heartbeat rising as she realises who he's talking about, "No.. Bob—,"

"He's in great hands. You don't need to worry about him," he cuts in "Robert is our most valuable asset, the answer to OXE Group's need, and we have you, and only you, to thank for,"

"Don't you— if you touch Bob—," she begins to panic, squirming under the straps until it chaffed her skin "you're killing him! No one can survive that serum, no one! You're only setting him up for death!"

"Perhaps, but he's been thriving in all our physical tests, and I believe it's time for us to call Valentina. Show her about our breakthrough,"

"No—," her yelling fell to Houston's deaf ears as the man walks away, heading to the door "Houston, come back here and untie me! Let me go! You're killing him! Let me go! Houston—,"

She yelled and begged until her voice was gone. Her throat is now sore, and the exposed skin that met the edges of the strap was now bleeding from how hard she tries to pry herself out. She was exhausted, confused, and above all, scared of what's going to happen for Bob. Part of her feels guilty to have unknowingly put him in such a dangerous spot, but a bigger part of her, the more vulnerable and shy part of her, was scared that she would never get to see him again. The idea of never looking into those blue eyes again, to never see his smile lines, or touch his now warm hands, scare her more than whatever it is Houston might do to her.

Because if it wasn't for her to come and rescue Bob, who else would?

—-

The concept of time has practically gone pointless when you're tied in a room with no windows. She wasn't sure how long she has been trapped in this room, how long since she was injected with whatever it is Houston used to immobilised her, nor how long has it been since he last came in. The only time anyone ever comes in and out of that one door is to feed her and to walk her to the restroom, and that is done with rough, high security manner.

As she stared at the empty wall, she noticed that the light in the room was flickering. Not the kind of flickers that happened when the lamps were about to go out, but the kind of flicker you see when the electrical power was being messed with. She knew that the lab has backup generators, they couldn't afford a full outage if there should ever be any issue with the electricity, so the flickering lights certainly made her raise her brows.

At first, this flicker happens rarely during the day, but as time goes by, the more days she spends trapped in the room, the more frequent this flickering happens. Sometimes, the blackout lasts longer than three seconds, and she could only imagine just how many of her samples would've gone spoilt in the lab if she was still working. It's odd to know that Houston is doing nothing to fix that persisting electrical issue.

"You have some serious issues with those lamps," she comments as Houston finally revisits "are we running out of money to pay for the electricity bills?"

Houston shows a meaningful smile, one that holds a thousand secret she couldn't decipher, "Isn't it magnificent?"

Her brows rose, "What is?"

"The miracles Robert could do for us,"

"Bob did this..? But— how—,"

"I’ve told you, you're underestimating yourself,"

"What— what did you do to him?" she demands, tossing herself around to wiggle off the straps once again "let me go, Houston, let me see him!"

"He's doing fine, Kid," Houston chuckled a little, taking a seat "as I said, he's OXE Group's most valuable asset. We wouldn’t do anything to harm him, not when we’re so close to achieving our goal. We're taking good care of him, don’t worry,"

She looks away, trying to digest Houston's words. It's true, Bob is their only surviving subject. They wouldn't do anything to jeopardise their project, now that they're a step closer towards their mission. But it would be too risky to take Houston's words as it is. There's no limit to the eagerness and optimism OXE Group has for Project Sentry. One wrong decision and it would spoil all their hard work. Worse, it might actually harm Bob.

"You're bleeding again," Houston says as he notices the skin that was scarred by the straps "you need to stop hurting yourself this way, Kid,"

"Well, then, get me off of these and let me free,"

"And have you kidnapped our subject? Get him out of this building and make him disappear?" the older man asks, smiling triumphantly when he sees her surprised face "Robert told me about your plan to get him out of his room,"

"I never thought of kidnapping him, I just wanted to get him out of that depressing room," she defends "he's a person, Houston. Treat him like one,"

"Oh, we're treating him much better than that. He's to be a God, remember?"

She smiles a little, mocking, "And what then? When you've successfully turned him into a God, what then? What makes you think that a God would listen to you? To Val? To anyone?"

Houston's smile waters, looking caught off guard.

"You don't know what you're doing, Houston," she continues, pouring petrol to the flame "that's your problem: you just do, you never think. You should be ashamed of yourself. You're not even a doctor. You're just a puppet,"

"Well, we've all made mistakes with this project," he shrugs, acting as if her words didn't sting "at least, I'm not the one trapped and strapped in a room,"

"I'm here because of you," she spat bitterly.

"No, you're here because of yourself," he corrected as he pointed at her in a disapproving manner "you grew too close, Kid. You know the first rule of working in this industry is to never get personal. Not to your peers, not to your subjects, and yet, here you are, risking your life for a man you've only met for a couple weeks,"

She glares at him, "He's my patient, I have to care for him,"

"Is that all he really is?"

She remains quiet, looking away as she swallows her own saliva in shame. She knew that Houston was right. She's long crossed the one line she shouldn't have toyed with in the first place. A doctor should never grow personal to their patient, especially when the nature of your relationship was not as simple. Bob wasn't just a man who scrapped his knee and came to her for a band aid. He was a man who knew the risks of admitting himself to this program, and she was the doctor who was responsible for just observing him. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet here she is, days away from sunlight with her mind plagued with one thing only: Bob.

"You need to remember who you are," Houston continues with a gentler tone "you're not just a doctor here, Kid. You're a scientist, too, and as scientists, we're bound to lose our subjects, be it through success or failure,"

With a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, Houston stood from his seat. He gave her a smile, a conflicted one that tells her it pains him to have her treated this way, too, but he's left with no other choice. He couldn't risk her putting the project on the line or cause any more damage to herself.

"Wait," she called before he could reach for the doorknob "does he.. does he ever ask about me?"

Houston turns to face her, showing another apologetic smile as he shakes his head, "No,"

She blinks, finding his answer to be hard to accept, but it would be a lie to say she didn't expect it. Supposed she should feel glad that she's not putting Bob in any kind of stress from her disappearance that might disturb his great progress, yet it stings still to know that she never held that much importance to him as she would like. It was childish of her to take any promises they've made any more serious than just some casual nonsense. She's the one who left, after all. She, too, would stop looking for someone if they suddenly leave without an explanation. It was the one thing she promised most for him, that she would be there for him always, and yet she's gone. Even if it was against her wishes.

"I'm sorry, Kid," Houston apologises.

She looks up to him, forcing a smile and pretending as if none of this conversation hurts her, "He's just a patient,"

The man nods, showing a last apologetic smile before he leaves.

The room feels as if it's grown as the door shuts. She looks up to the ceiling, trying not to let the tears that were starting to form on her eyes fall. It is sad to cry for a man you barely know, but even more pathetic to not being able to wipe your tears off.

Houston was right. The serum worked, and Bob is thriving with his new powers. They should all triumph in the success of the project, popping bottles of champagne in celebration and planning for their upcoming overdue vacations. But why does she find it hard to find any fraction of happiness in her heart? Why does she feel reluctant to take any pride in the success of this project? Shouldn't she be happy that Bob's trial worked and that he doesn't need her anymore?

Perhaps it was the guilt of everybody else who didn't survive the test that made her this hesitant, but to say it out loud would be the biggest lie she'd ever confess to the world. Sure, the passing patients would become the demons she has to fight every night in her sleep, but this wasn't about them, was it? It wasn't about the other patients—it was about Bob. It was about the hope of leaving this place with him. It was about the idea of having that walk around the city and trying out new places with him. It was about seeing the smile lines on his face and feeling the warmth on his hands.

It was about the fact that she now realised such hope was nothing more than a reverie.

Taglist: @babybabygrogu @wqrzew @minnieminnieee1 @youdontknowe @jesterlaughingstock @idohknow @foreverchangingmind @heartcower @mquituisaca @artandpunishment @x3zerochanx3 @yujyujj @baylegend6 @websterss

[penny-anna]

hi guys!! guess who got more transformers fic recs!! including some WEIRD SHIT!!

Electric Chapel by DesdemonaKaylose

You are cordially invited to the WEDDING of our esteemed LORD MEGATRON and SOME LITTLE GUY HE FOUND IN A BOX.

Megatron attempts to marry Rung. Rung is highly desirable. Skywarp and Thundercracker eat teacups. delightful.

Working Through It by Trinary

“TC,” Skywarp says, “I’m, like, ninety percent sure that humans don’t have interface cables.” Thundercracker squawks and almost knocks him over trying to get the script out of his hands.

robot/robot/human threeway w plug n play interfacing. GOOD robot action.

they say some things just don't wash out by harperuth

The data continued to coalesce with every passing moment he could watch Rodimus and still he couldn’t come to a conclusion. By all accounts it didn’t make any sense. - - - Or, Ultra Magnus struggles to understand Rodimus and his unorthodox fueling habits.

nice little UM and Rod fic!!!

Creep Down the Alleyway, Fly Down the Highway by Nathrakh_Red

Tracks was laughing in a way that’d be sarcastic if it was anyone else, in a way that might’ve ruffled Raoul's feathers if he hadn’t gotten used to the fact that Tracks laughed like a wealthy woman drank— haughtily, self-possessed, and so as not to cause wrinkles. Two different Tracks/Raoul fics!

WAUGHHH!! *biting and chewing these two*

Feel How It Feels by autoschediastic

But Optimus said, "That would be helpful," and a weirdly pleasant warmth spread through Lennox's gut.

some good transformer & human content for u

don't mean to brag, but my bandwidth is fat by harperuth

“Kid,” Ratchet ex-vented, “Did you listen to anything I just said?” Tailgate’s visor flashed, for just a klik. First Aid almost thought it was a trick of the light, “Big war, modified interface arrays, do I want one, et cetera. I listened. And I said no.”

tailgate hot girl summer

Spike Seeks Valve by Baird Crevan (Baird)

“Your name.  Is.  Spike,” Skywarp repeated.  “Yes, that’s what I said!  I am Spike, ally to the Autobots, the defenders of Earth!” Skywarp trembled a little and made a weird giggling noise.  “Uh, wow.  That’s.  Erm, sorry Jazz, I gotta… I gotta steal your Spike.”

i already recced this one but my GOD is it funny

Bottom of the Line by Trinary

Skyfire’s been pining over his lab partner for too long. He could swear Starscream has a thing for him, too, but when they finally get together, it doesn’t go like he expects. Skyfire’s always been told the cold constructed were missing something. He just didn’t think it was this.

u like skystar?? TOP tier skystar right here. recommend watching 'fire in the sky' first if u haven't seen it. for full impact.

how to get away with murder by OccasionalStorytelling

First Aid: You want me to treat you like you’re disposable? I don’t know what kind of data I could have you analyze for me— Rewind: I want you to treat me like I’ve been disposed of. There’s a distinction. The only problem is, they get caught.

we are getting into the weird shit now!! heed the warnings on this one. outstandingly weird n messed up. i love Rewind.

For Educational Purposes Only by keelywolfe

no ao3 summary on this one. bayverse. Sam & Mikaela fuck in front of Ratchet for uhh research. i must stress that this fic is primarily about Ratchet and Mikaela matching each other's freak. i love when Mikaela gets to be a little weirdo.

Viviparity by nine_dandelion

Some things have never been within the purview of mechanical beings, but Cybertronians have always been adaptable. When Ratchet discovers a newly-ignited spark growing inside Rodimus, though, he finds his abilities (and patience) tested.

my friend sent me this one and i was like 'why are u sending me mechpreg' (she knows how i feel about mechpreg) and she was like no no trust me you'll like this one u know what?? she was right. go check it out.

The Way to a Mech's Spark (Is Through His Fuel Tank) by Trinary

Starscream and Skyfire set off on their first Academy mission, and Starscream doesn’t consider the logistics of fuel until much, much too late. Skyfire isn’t keeping it in cubes—it’s in his auxiliary tanks, and there’s only one way to get it out. Starscream’s plating heats just thinking of it. He knows he can’t ask without embarrassing himself. He can make the whole trip without refueling, right?

FABULOUS living robot spaceship specific kink. love it.

ok that's all for now!! wahoo!!!

[esotericimagesforredpilledpeople]

In the late 1990s, Enron, the infamous energy giant, and MCI, the telecom titan, were secretly collaborating on a clandestine project codenamed "Chronos Ledger." The official narrative tells us Enron collapsed in 2001 due to accounting fraud, and MCI (then part of WorldCom) imploded in 2002 over similar financial shenanigans. But what if these collapses were a smokescreen? What if Enron and MCI were actually sacrificial pawns in a grand experiment to birth Bitcoin—a decentralized currency designed to destabilize global finance and usher in a new world order?

Here’s the story: Enron wasn’t just manipulating energy markets; it was funding a secret think tank of rogue mathematicians, cryptographers, and futurists embedded within MCI’s sprawling telecom infrastructure. Their goal? To create a digital currency that could operate beyond the reach of governments and banks. Enron’s off-the-books partnerships—like the ones that tanked its stock—were actually shell companies funneling billions into this project. MCI, with its vast network of fiber-optic cables and data centers, provided the technological backbone, secretly testing encrypted "proto-blockchain" transactions disguised as routine telecom data.

But why the dramatic collapses? Because the project was compromised. In 2001, a whistleblower—let’s call them "Satoshi Prime"—threatened to expose Chronos Ledger to the SEC. To protect the bigger plan, Enron and MCI’s leadership staged their own downfall, using cooked books as a convenient distraction. The core team went underground, taking with them the blueprints for what would later become Bitcoin.

Fast forward to 2008. The financial crisis hits, and a mysterious figure, Satoshi Nakamoto, releases the Bitcoin whitepaper. Coincidence? Hardly. Satoshi wasn’t one person but a collective—a cabal of former Enron execs, MCI engineers, and shadowy venture capitalists who’d been biding their time. The 2008 crash was their trigger: a chaotic moment to introduce Bitcoin as a "savior" currency, free from the corrupt systems they’d once propped up. The blockchain’s decentralized nature? A direct descendant of MCI’s encrypted data networks. Bitcoin’s energy-intensive mining? A twisted homage to Enron’s energy market manipulations.

But here’s where it gets truly wild: Chronos Ledger wasn’t just about money—it was about time. Enron and MCI had stumbled onto a fringe theory during their collaboration: that a sufficiently complex ledger, powered by quantum computing (secretly prototyped in MCI labs), could "timestamp" events across dimensions, effectively predicting—or even altering—future outcomes. Bitcoin’s blockchain was the public-facing piece of this puzzle, a distraction to keep the masses busy while the real tech evolved in secret. The halving cycles? A countdown to when the full system activates.

Today, the descendants of this conspiracy—hidden in plain sight among crypto whales and Silicon Valley elites—are quietly amassing Bitcoin not for profit, but to control the final activation of Chronos Ledger. When Bitcoin’s last block is mined (projected for 2140), they believe it’ll unlock a temporal feedback loop, resetting the global economy to 1999���pre-Enron collapse—giving them infinite do-overs to perfect their dominion. The Enron and MCI scandals? Just the first dominoes in a game of chance and power.

[ihaznoclue]

*Slides in a slip*

'May I request Donnie, aka my favourite turtle maybe that him and Reader is hanging out in the lab, enjoying the peace and quiet while the Reader does homework and Donnie does his science stuff?'

Please and Thank you!

Pairings -> Donatello/Donnie x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Donnie and you are just hanging out in the lair, doing your own things as you do your homework

Genre -> Fluff

DONATELLO

The soft hum of the lab’s machinery was the only sound that filled the air, featured by the occasional clinks of tools or the soft scribble of a pen on paper

Donnie's eyes were fixed just on the complicated assignment in front of him as he sat at his workbench among a variety of devices, cables, and incomplete projects

At the table next to him you were sitting, your textbooks spread out in front of you as you tried to focus on your homework

It wasn’t the easiest task, especially with Donnie's constant tinkering, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the atmosphere of the lab

The peace, the quiet and the way everything felt so natural with Donnie by your side

You glanced at him and he smiled softly while adjusting something

There was something about these moments, the ones where the two of you could simply exist in the same space without needing to speak every second, that made the world feel just a little bit better

“You know,” you spoke up, your voice breaking the silence

"You’re making this look way too easy.. How do you do it?”

Donnie didn’t even look up from his work, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile

“Science is never ‘easy' It’s just… important. Once you understand the principles behind it, everything becomes easier.. The trick is to never stop experimenting”

You nodded, even though you didn’t fully understand the science part, but you were okay with that

You had the feeling that if you ever needed to know, Donnie would explain it in a way that made it sound more simple

The quiet returned and for a moment, the only sounds were the low beeping of Donnie’s computer and your occasional sigh as you worked through equations and formulas for your maths assessment that will be coming up in a few days

Despite how different the two of you were, him with his genius intelligence, and you with your focus on your studies

You both seemed to fit here in the lab together

There was a comfort in the shared silence, the mutual respect and the sense of peace that came with simply being in each other's company

“So...” you said after a while glancing up at Donnie

“How’s that project of yours going? The one you’ve been obsessing over for the past week?”

He glanced up, his glasses reflecting the soft lab lights, his face showing just the slightest hint of pride

“It’s almost finished.. Just a few final things to do and it’ll be ready for testing"

You smiled, glad to see him so focused in his work

It was rare that he was this calm and this focused

Usually his mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, hopping from one idea to the next

But right now, in this moment, everything seemed to slow down

It was nice

“Well, don’t blow anything up” you teased.

Donnie’s smile grew a little more

“I never blow anything up" He paused, his voice dropping to a secretive tone

“On purpose.."

You laughed, shaking your head and turned your attention back to your homework

The world outside of the lab didn’t matter

Here in this space with Donnie, you were exactly where you needed to be

-A<3

[marksmarkers93]

Guyyysss I'm making comics again omg I haven't done that since my stranger things hyperfixationnm heheheh

Lil fic below

Anyway chapter one of Sonicpoly! Au : The ark

Shadow could not stand the incessant beeping from the machines around him. All he ever heard was those god damned beeps from the machines monitoring him. Monitoring statistics and data that never changed. A whole year of constant and rigorous tests with the same answers back to back and you'd think they'd get a hint.

And yet here he sat anyway. Another routine test.

Doctor Robotnik was on the other side of the room, reading over the data, making notes and humming a song under his breath as he went. A picture of content. Shadow wished he could have that contentment while he went through his tests but he was restless. Always on edge while on his own with the Doctors and scientists. Part of him wished he were back in his tank. Floating mindlessly while they monitored him. But the other part of him didn't want to be locked away from Maria again.

It was used as a punishment now. If he acted out he got put in his tank and wasn't allowed to see Maria. Or more accurately she wasn't allowed to see him. Shadow sighed at the thought alone. It wasn't worth it.

So he said and waited and fought the pounding headache that was growing because of that horrible beeping.

His ear flicked, picking up the sound of footsteps. Not uncommon but these ones sounded different. Boots, military personnel, but also the quiet thumping pad of paws paired with the jangle of chains? He looked towards the doorway and watched.

"Keep walking" the man said above the sound of the chains clinking as..as something that looked like him walked in front? Shadows eyes widened. What- no, who was that? Was that another subject like Shadow? How come he didn't know about them? His eyes ran across the fleeting form quickly trying to memorise everything.

One thing stood out the most. Their face. It was miserable..

"Shadow." Doctor robotniks voice scared him, his pulse jumping as he snapped his head back to look up at the doctor in front of him.

"Yes doctor?" He said meekly, respectfully.

"Your tests are done for today. You may go." He motioned with his hand.

"Of course doctor.." shadow said as he started to unplug himself from the equipment. Slowly and methodically. His mind was racing. He had so many questions. Doctor Robotnik didn't mention anything about another ultimate lifeform? He would have to talk to Maria about it.

Maria. His thoughts shifted to his best friend, his sister. A small smile graced his face as he finished up plugging himself and tidying up the cables before skating out of the lab and down the hall towards his sister. The thoughts of the other subject pushed to the back of his mind for now.

[rawmeknockout]

hewwo again i don't know if my ask went thru a few months ago but i requested a oneshot of tfp soundwave getting his puss eaten out by reader and just being a pillow princess for a moment it's toats ok if u don't wanna do this but if u do. go 4 for da gold

To call you his botfriend would not only be illogical, but completely laughable. You are firmly Not-his-botfriend. Shockwave doesn’t do frivolous social relationships. He makes an exception for you in some areas, has allowed you to do certain tasks for him, has agreed to share a habsuite with you, because he understands you to be reliable and loyal to Megatron above all else. That’s why he can rely on you to complete this newest assignment. It is not because there is anything about you that is worth calling anything other than a good colleague in the lab. (Which are hard to find but not special, by any means.)

You complete this latest assignment like you were something special, though, with great gusto and enthusiasm. Your servos curl around his thighs to keep them parted around your helm, pressing your grinning, open-mouthed kisses to his valve lips. He knows how eager you can be with your mouth, eager to press wet derma to his metal when you think no one is looking; no matter how much Shockwave shooes you away. He has to offline his vocalizer to stop a particularly needy moan from bubbling up, trying to opt for a more professional cable-clearing cough.

His claws ache to sink into the lab table, elbow plating already doing an impressive job of scoring the metal below with his paint. If it wasn’t for your upper frame keeping his thighs stabilized on your pauldrons, Shockwave would be bucking and writhing against your mouth. As it is, the best he can muster, what he will allow himself to show, is a weak arch against your glossa. An absolutely wanton display. The more enthusiasm you show, letting his lubricant dribble and slop down your chin, the harder his glower becomes. Even with his vocalizer offline, trying his level best to keep his frame from instinctively chasing your face, your glossa curling from his interior node until you pull out to swipe it across his outer node, has Shockwave’s servos flying from table to helm as he pulls you close. Like he’s going to crush your metal against his obscenely wet valve.

Were it not for the sake of the assignment, Shockwave would shove you away. Or shove you down so he could ride your face properly. He will have to suggest future tests to gather more data.

[legs-like-jelly]

could I get a Lee shockwave?? (G1 if it makes it easier for you) Maybe an experiment went wrong or something and it turned on him

:3

Gone Wrong

Lee: Soundwave

Ler: Shockwave

Shockwave was in his lab, attending to his usual business. His latest invention was almost complete..a torture device for captives to make them spill any secrets about the other factions. It was perfect!!....But it needed to be tested.

And who better to test that than his lovely conjunx? A quick comm was sent over to Soundwave.

[Soundwave, would you be a dear and come to the lab for me? I have something I want to try.]

Mere moments later, the door to the lab slid open with a snik noise. Soundwave stepped in, curiosity obvious behind his visor. The mechs gaze flicked over to the new invention.

"Query: what is your new invention?" He spoke

"Quite simple! It's a torture device meant to cause unbearable pain to victims so they spill their secrets! Don't worry, I won't activate it on you. I just want to see if the grips are tight enough and if the arms work," Shockwave explained.

Soundwave trotted up to the machine, lifting his arms to the designated area on the device. Two metal belts locked each of his arms in place. He seemed rather compliant.

"Excellent! Now don't move to much, I have to test the arms.." The purple mech pulled out a datapad and pressed a few of the control buttons. Mechanical whirrs sounded in Soundwave's audials as they moved closer to the mech's body. The blue mech flinched slightly as one of the claws grazed against his side.

"Q-query: what is the m-meaning of this?" Soundwave tried to stifle a giggle as a feather-light touch prodded just underneath his arm.

"The meaning of what? I'm not even doing anything!" Shockwave protested, trying to get the machine to stop. But they simply wouldn't. Two more arms presented feathers, brushing them along the back of Soundwave's knees. The mech snorted, kicking his legs ever so slightly. Though he had no mouth, the presence of a smirk could be felt from Shockwave.

"I forgot how ticklish you were," Shockwave mused.

"FALSE!" Soundwave yelped as two hands scribbled under his arms.

"Truly, I did!" He lied. "Why don't we try to find all of them while the machine is still running!"

Before Soundwave could protest, an arm flew to his stomach and started poking at the metal. If his voicebox allowed, the mech would definitely be squealing by now.

"SHOCKWAVE: DESIHIST!! DESIHIHIIIST!!!" He cackled, pedes kicking frantically while he squirmed around.

"Do you really want me too?" Shockwave hummed, turning the machines speed up ever so slightly. All of a sudden, Soundwave was no longer protesting.

"Sweetspark, you need to use your words now~" The purple mech teased, one of his digits grazing Soundwave's neck cables. The other mech's voicebox glitched as an ungodly snort pulled itself from his intake.

"SHOHOHOCKWAVE!!" The blue casette cackled, his helm shooting backwards from the sped up sensations. "DESIHIIHIISTHAHAHAHHAHAHHA!!"

"Alright alright, if you say so~" Shockwave hummed and pulled a lever to switch the device off. His conjunx finally calmed down, hanging limply from the device. Shockwave went over to him, and promptly unhooked him.

"Easy now, we don't want you shorting a circuit," The scientist hummed while rubbing his lover's back.

"Analysis: Shohockwave is ehehevil," Soundwave joked, still trying to stifle giggled of his own.

"How dare you! Maybe I should put you back in there!" Shockwave gasped, feigning offense.

"NO- NONONONONO-"

The purple mech chuckled fondly. "That's what I thought."

FIN

didnt excpect to have to motivation to write a fic, but it came all in the spur of the momentnshhvhwhbhehghdhdfhefhgdffd i hope u like it

[fallen-savior-mmz]

A Fallen Savior excerpt from a future, un-named chapter <3

X’s eyes blearily opened, blinking to try to clear the sleep from them. He groaned as he attempted to sit up, his tangled mop of black hair clinging to his clammy face.

Why was he awake?

As the ancient android moved to wipe  away the annoying strands of inky black and blue, a sudden jolt of pain lanced through his arm, the limb twitching and seizing for a few agonizing seconds before suddenly ceasing.

X gasped sharply at the pain, holding his breath before releasing it as the pain faded.

What the hell was that?!

With a shuddery whimper, the man quickly ran a diagnostics test on himself internally.

Everything was damaged now, when was it not?

Power core fluctuations were new, but not unexpected. 

Wire degradation was also new, but he didn’t have the self-repair nanites to spare anymore…

His core was corrupting, slowly but surely. But again, that hadn’t been surprising.

Memory leak here, shorted cable there, cracked internal drives, yes, yes. This was all completely routine for X.

He wondered briefly how truly furious Cerveau would be if he could witness the depth of his rot.

Oh…there was something new.

Another jolt of pain ripped through him as his arm spasmed again, the man seething through his teeth, the pain so sudden, he couldn’t even produce sound.

New readings came across his mind.

:WARNING: CRITICAL POWER ERROR: KERNEL POWER EVENT ID 41 

:LOCALIZATION: SHOULDER B

What?

X read the code over and over, trying to wrap his mind around it. He desperately wished his mind wasn’t slowing down with his core…

The answer popped into his head right as another strike of pain hit him. He whimpered through his teeth, gritting his eyes shut as the wave passed him.

The error flashed again.

Of course…there was THAT possibility…

But could it be…?

With great effort, X swung his legs over the side of his recharge bed.

He breathed heavily as his core began to heat up, his body warming as he forced himself to stand. His legs trembled for a moment, but held.

He hadn’t walked since Elpizo…

X grit his teeth, rocking a little as another wave struck him. Holding the spasming arm with his other hand at least kept him from bending it in the wrong way, potentially breaking it.

It didn’t help with the inferno of pain he felt in that moment.

As the wave passed, he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

X looked at the door in front of him, already dreading the long journey ahead. He needed to get to Cerveau’s lab.

But that was on the other side of the floor, across the Command Room.

And…past Zero’s door.

He shook his head, trying to clear himself of the guilt that washed over him thinking about his dear husband. 

He’d understand X’s decision…someday.

With an uneasy tremble to his legs, X took a step forward. His knee shook, but held his weight as he took another step.

Progress was agonizingly slow, he felt like he was moving in slow motion.

For a moment, the android felt confident in his legs, stepping quicker and giving his leg less time to adjust to his weight.

He briefly snickered to himself as he remembered how athletic he used to be. 

Ah, to be a Maverick Hunter again, racing through the streets of Able City, patrolling with Zero and grabbing food at that lovely little café!

What was it called again…?

Where…?

With a yelp, X collapsed to the floor, his knee giving out underneath him as he was ripped from his memories.

Pain lanced through his arm again, causing him to nearly gag as he silently screamed into the floor where he fell.

What the hell happened?

He was there in Abel City again and then this! 

X felt his chest tighten in panic.

He didn’t know where he was!

He looked around wildly until his eyes rested on his helmet, still resting proudly on the table next to his bed.

He blinked owlishly at it for a moment before everything came flooding back.

That was right…he was in the Resistance Base.

The Maverick Hunters were gone.

Abel City was destroyed.

The grief came and left faster than he had expected.

Last time this had happened, he had cried for a few moments before coming back to his senses.

Ah, right. 

Memory leaks.

X sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he began to lose motivation. He wanted to go back to bed…

As another wave of pain struck him, and his teeth gritted tightly in agony, he remembered why it was so important to get to Cerveau’s lab.

“V….voltmeter…” X gasped, forcing his trembling legs back up.

With renewed determination, and a mounting sense of dread, X dragged himself towards the door.

Reaching it felt like a herculean task, but he knew that the real challenge lay ahead. His core raced, the rumbling of it audible in his aural cones.

Opening the door, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit hallway. No sound came from either direction, nor any movement.

It must be the middle of the night.

Perfect.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm the raging sea of anxiety inside of him before he began.

There were too many things that could go wrong, too many things that could BE wrong! If he was telling the truth, he’s absolutely terrified of the implications of his ailment.

X thanked any higher power that would listen for the silent night as he used the wall as a crutch, leaning against it and dragging himself as quietly as possible down the hallway.

The android paused as he passed Zero’s door.

He briefly wondered if his husband would be willing to carry him the rest of the way…

He shook his head to clear the thought.

How selfish could he really be?

The idea of asking his husband to carry him to steal equipment from a comrade, and not allow him to ask any questions or make any move to change X’s fate made him feel dizzy with guilt.

He moved on as quickly as he could, leaving his longing at his husband’s door.

Progress felt even slower as the hallway stretched on and on. His arm continued to spasm, each time causing X’s knees to shake and his eyes to flicker from the intensity of hurt he was feeling.

With each passing wave, X’s anxieties about the cause grew, speeding his progress ever so slightly.

Finally, he reached the Command Center.

Looking around, he grimaced at the center platform.

He remembered the last time he had been here. He had slapped the former Commander for leading his fellow resistance members into a slaughter.

A new emotion came over him as he remembered that moment.

Disgust.

His eyes flickered as the pain failed to properly register this time, each wave becoming increasingly intense.

The disgust at the memory, however, remained crystal clear.

When the wave passed, X sighed but moved forward into the Command Center.

This was the part he was most worried about.

The center platform was connected on either side by a nearly railless walkway. It was wide enough to allow small carts and transports across, and was a useful place for gathering a large amount of people.

But the railless part was what made X swallow in fear.

His legs shook as he forced the limbs to move out onto the walkway, trying to keep from stumbling off of the side and into the wiring below.

He briefly wondered why he had approved this design before remembering it was simply a relic of this place being a former Maverick Hunter outpost.

Reploids didn’t need rails.

He fought the memory of visiting outposts just like this as his time as Commander of the 17th Unit from creeping over his already sluggish mind.

The voices of his subordinates crept at the corners of his hearing, their distant laughter and teasing haunting him like a ghost.

Mega Man X would not fall victim to the phantoms of his past!

The thought of his full title ripped him from reality, his subordinates' hands grabbing at his body and dragging him below into the murkiness of his past.

Faces blended and blurred, pain dancing alongside euphoria, it was like a carnival of nostalgia and agony.

He laughed and smiled as he tried to put names to faces, ecstatic at seeing his team again!

There was Marty! Or, was that Big Jack?

Retro! Or, what looked like Retro a moment ago now suspiciously looked like Diego…

Or…who was…

It was…

Zero’s face was crystal clear among the sea of eerie grins and morphing expressions. 

He looked so sad…

X gasped sharply, his eyes staring below into inky darkness. His arm lay twisted at an odd angle behind his back, his other arm bracing him against the lip of the edge of the walkway.

He had collapsed, he must have!

The man used his remaining arm to push himself away from the edge, his legs scrabbling weakly behind him as he attempted to put his feet underneath him.

Why weren’t his legs working?!

Panic mounted again, his head swimming in confusion and dizziness. Everywhere he looked, he felt a new feeling of desperation overtake him.

Finally, in his growing panic, his eyes landed on the Command Center’s main console. 

The raised platform was empty and dark now, the giant screen behind it turned off and blank, leaving the room in a strange, ambient gray.

X stared at it wide-eyed as memories came back to him.

That’s right…

Elpizo was up there, and Zero was next to me…

The realization that he had experienced another memory leak frightened him. He really needed to get back to his room, and gey hooked back up to his power supply.

He felt…disappointed in himself. He was better than this, wasn’t he? 

How the mighty had fallen!

Sigma would laugh and sneer if he could see how low X had fallen. 

In a way, he supposed, it was comforting.

It was comforting to know he had fallen, and could fall no further.

X stared out into the darkness, his legs shaking underneath him as he contemplated the depths of his fall from grace, willing the tears to stop welling in his eyes.

The android blinked as his vision briefly shut down. He braced for pain that never came, even when the spasms in his now, most likely, dislocated shoulder still caught his attention.

Uh-oh, that wasn’t good.

What was it Dr. Cain had said?

Ancient reploid model designs and diagnostics ran through his mind, hazy and murky as it was, he remembered something important.

A reploid unable to feel pain in a region of their body is a reploid in need of serious and immediate repair.

X snorted at the thought.

Yeah, no shit.

Creeping along, he blessedly made it to the other side of the room without further incident.

Catching himself against the door, he looked back, wondering how he was going to get back to his room without a mountain of luck.

He decided he’d cross that bridge when he came to it, figuratively and literally.

Blink! His vision flickered again.

The door to the small hallway leading to Ciel and Cerveau’s labs opened with a hiss. The space itself was lit with a single light, the glow from the lab doors locks giving off a homey, verdant ambience.

It was comforting, but X was determined not to get distracted more than he had. 

Using the wall again, he dragged himself onward, nearly trembling in relief as he finally came close to Cerveau’s door. 

A brief jolt of panic went through him as he realized Cerveau might be inside.

His mind raced with excuses he could tell the engineer, desperate to get out of the situation without a lecture. And without Zero finding out.

His mind was eased as he remembered that it was night time, and unlike the previous base, everyone actually had their own rooms.

Blink! Another flicker.

With a huff and a quick swipe of his credentials, the door to the lab whooshed open.

Inside, the room was dark, X’s eyes struggling to adjust for a moment as they attempted to recalibrate.

This power event…thing was beginning to annoy him.

Stepping into the room, he scanned around for the voltmeter, using the tables and workbenches to stabilize himself.

Finally, he spotted one, hanging up on the wall across from him, resting peacefully exactly where Cerveau left in.

X stumbled towards it, knocking items off of the worktables, wincing as the tools clattered to the ground with a loud bang.

There was no way no one heard that, X thought.

With a yelp, he fell forward, just before reaching the voltmeter, a rolling cart full of tools falling alongside him, metallic rings echoing out of the lab and into the halls.

With a gasp and a rush of frustration, X grunted as he reached for the device, another memory clawing at his mind.

This one was a happy memory.

It came in flashes, every few blinks he was transported back in time. 

X didn’t falter, pushing through the memory as his fingers grazed the device. 

Another blink and he couldn't tear himself away for a moment.

There he was, his armor has been specially made for this day. It was a silly thing, to ask Zero to change his armor for one silly event.

But the man had agreed, donning his white chest plate and gauntlets. All for X.

X blinked and Zero was gone, the voltmeter had fallen to the ground with a sharp crack against the metal floor of the lab.

Using his brief moment of clarity, he scrambled for the device, his spasming arm even reaching for it, as if his desperation for answers was overtaking the error.

With a sigh of relief, X leaned back against the wall, his chin nearly resting on his chest,  his eyes flickering and his mind fading into another memory.

With his remaining arm, he reached for the metal wand attached to the side. Flicking the button on, the screen lit up, showing him the different voltage measurements as the wand buzzed.

With more force than he intended, X stabbed the wand into his shoulder, wincing sharply as the wand dug painfully into his synthetic flesh.

Now all he had to do was wait for another spasm and…

With a sudden shutdown of his vision, followed by a moment of intense terror, the voltmeter beeped, right as his arm began to shake and twitch.

He looked down at the reading, his eyes wide in terror.

No…a reading this abnormal meant…

He ran another diagnostic, this time looking specifically for what he feared most.

He sent test queries at his core, desperately hoping that what was happening wasn’t happening.

Agonizing seconds passed by as memory threatened to overtake fear. X willed his body’s self repair system to work just a little faster, even with the fire of the Dark Elf still raging inside him.

“Why must you torment me like this? Isn’t it easier to just kill me already?” He pleaded outloud, staring into the ceiling. 

There was no answer. He wasn’t sure who he was expecting it from.

His test queries came back, tearing his mind from the image of Zero placing a ring on his finger to the results of the report from his core.

The floor dropped out from underneath him, dread threatening to swallow him up.

There were terrible ways to die sure, but this was a terrible way X hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.

The voltmeter dropped from his hands as heat and haze overtook his mind. The reports sat innocently in his mind's eye, still conveying the same message.

As honeyed dreams of Zero and sunny days began to drown him, he had one, terrible thought, slumping over and closing his eyes.

…

I’m going to die.

---

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Dark Water” pt.5

The Bad Batch x Reader

Rain streaked down the wide windowpanes of the observation deck, the sky outside Kamino’s sterile lab facility a dull grey. Below, banks of consoles gleamed with soft-blue light as two cadets crouched over separate terminals in the center of the slicing bay: Fixer, Delta Squad’s quiet prodigy, and Tech, Clone Force 99’s fast-talking firebrand.

You stood beside Sergeant Kal Skirata, arms folded, as the two boys were handed their challenge prompt by the Kaminoan overseer.

“Both will be given identical encrypted data cores,” the Kaminoan droned. “They are to extract the primary data payload, identify the false trails, and re-secure the system with no external support. Sabotage is permitted.”

“They’re still kids,” you muttered.

“They’re soldiers,” Skirata replied, flatly. “And this is Kamino. You think the real war’s gonna wait till they’re ready?”

You didn’t argue.

Not here. Not in front of the Nulls, who were slouched in the back with arms crossed, eyes sharp.

Below, Fixer tapped once to acknowledge the test. No wasted motion. No questions. Just cold efficiency.

Tech, in contrast, adjusted his goggles three times, then pushed up the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Ah — we’re beginning already. Excellent. I had concerns about the test design, but this—this will do nicely.”

Skirata snorted. “Is he always like that?”

“Worse,” you replied. “He narrated his own vaccinations last week.”

⸻

Tech’s fingers were a blur over the interface, his brow furrowed as he worked his way through five firewalls and an obfuscation spider-layer of recursive code. “Crude,” he muttered. “But well implemented.”

Across the room, Fixer had already bypassed two layers of security without a single verbal comment. His expression never changed. No muttering, no celebration. Just clean, silent efficiency.

Tech peeked over his shoulder briefly.

“Oh. Oh that’s fast,” he muttered. “Okay. Okay, it’s a race now.”

He cracked his knuckles and pulled a secondary cable from under the table.

“I’m rerouting my partition. Not technically regulation,” he said to no one, “but well within the parameters of testable creativity…”

He pulled a spike tool from his belt — homemade, by the looks of it — and jammed it into the dataport.

On the observation deck, one of the Nulls — Mereel — leaned forward and squinted.

“He made that himself,” he said. “Did you give him permission to modify the slicer tools?”

“No,” you said, frowning. “But he’s… inventive.”

Skirata grunted. “Reminds me of Sev. With less blood and more monologues.”

Fixer paused just long enough to notice the tremor in the data feed.

“Interference,” he muttered.

He traced it to Tech’s console. A deliberate loop injection.

Without missing a beat, Fixer countered — flooding the shared sandbox environment with null packets, static noise designed to crash low-level buffer systems.

Tech’s console stuttered for half a second. Long enough to be noticeable.

He blinked, surprised. “He’s sabotaging me. Oh, good. This is now a true contest.”

“Your boy’s cocky,” Skirata said, eyeing Tech.

“He’s ten and smarter than half the Kaminoan engineers,” you replied. “He’s allowed a little arrogance.”

“He’s gonna learn it doesn’t keep you alive in the field.”

You nodded slowly. “Then I’ll teach him what will.”

Tech’s strategy changed. He abandoned the route he’d started and began carving a new one — a longer one — and began patching over his past mistakes behind him. Not just slicing anymore. Cloaking.

Fixer noticed.

He adjusted. Hard countered.

Back and forth it went: silent duel over code and cleverness, one looping and twisting, the other dissecting with ruthless precision.

Eventually — as the test’s timer reached zero — both terminals chimed.

Data retrieved. Payload secured. False trails identified.

Match drawn.

“Well,” Skirata muttered. “Neither of them lost. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

You glanced at him. “Means we’ve got two assets. Not one.”

You stepped away from the window and headed for the exit, tapping your comm once to send your evaluation of Tech’s work to the instructors’ logs.

Behind you, Fixer and Tech were unplugging their tools and walking off the mat.

“…That was exhilarating,” Tech said, pushing his goggles up. “You’re very skilled. Efficient. Elegant, even. You hardly said a word!”

Fixer looked at him. “You didn’t stop talking.”

Tech looked genuinely pleased. “You noticed!”

Fixer didn’t respond. But there was, just briefly, the hint of a smirk as he walked away.

Tech watched him go, then turned back to the empty lab.

“…I liked him.”

⸻

Tipoca City — Mess Hall

2043 Hours

It was late by Kaminoan standards.

The mess hall had emptied into that liminal quiet, where the cleaning droids hummed softly and trays clattered only once every few minutes. A few cadets lingered, muttering over ration bars or staring into nutrient paste bowls like they might tell fortunes.

Tech stepped into the room, datapad clutched to his chest like a prized relic.

His eyes scanned the space and — there, toward the back — was Fixer, alone at a table. Tray pushed aside. Console open. Fingers dancing over keys in precise, economical movements.

Tech hesitated only a moment before crossing the floor.

“Hello!” he said cheerfully, sliding into the seat across from him.

Fixer barely looked up. “You don’t stop, do you?”

“I’m trying,” Tech said earnestly. “But I’ve found most silences are simply opportunities to fill gaps in mutual understanding.”

Fixer paused in his typing. “…You’re talking again.”

“I am.”

Fixer stared at him flatly.

Tech cleared his throat. “I… just wanted to say your code loop countermeasures today were incredible. You rerouted the sandbox flood without destabilizing the sequence, and your packet injection efficiency was—”

“Average,” Fixer interrupted.

Tech blinked. “That’s demonstrably false.”

“I made two mistakes,” Fixer replied. “One delay on the decoy bypass, and I used a loop that was inefficient. You still almost beat me.”

“I didn’t even finish my best algorithm,” Tech admitted. “I overcompensated when your spike flooded my initial path.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Fixer tilted his head. “You coded that spike tool yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Send me the schematics.”

“…Really?”

Fixer gave a curt nod.

Tech lit up like a reactor core. “Absolutely! I’ll send them through the shared uplink once I debug the sublayer compression.”

Fixer returned to his console. “No rush. I’ll rebuild it better.”

Tech smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Across the room, the doors hissed open.

Boots stomped in, loud and uneven.

“Well if it isn’t the Nerd Herd!”

Tech looked up to see Scorch, decked in slightly scuffed cadet fatigues, two ration bars crammed into one hand and a bottle of high-protein caf in the other.

“Fixer! I thought you swore off social interaction unless it involved ‘tactical necessity.’ You finally making friends?”

Fixer didn’t glance up. “Trying.”

Scorch stopped mid-chew, looked between them, then jabbed a finger at Tech.

“You! Goggles!”

“Tech,” he said politely.

“Right. You’re the loud one.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

“I heard about your little slicer showdown. You realize Fixer’s the reason the rest of us don’t even try anymore, right?”

“His skill is remarkable,” Tech agreed.

“You’re lucky you still have a console,” Scorch muttered, flopping down beside Fixer with all the subtlety of a plasma grenade. “Last time I challenged him, my data terminal burst into flames. Pretty sure it cried.”

Fixer didn’t look up. “You deleted your own boot files.”

Scorch waved a hand. “Details. Point is, you made an impression, Goggles.”

“I aim to,” Tech said, a little proud.

Scorch leaned back in his seat. “Well, guess the quiet killer has a sparring partner now. You play sabacc?”

“Not against probability,” Tech replied. “It removes the tension.”

Scorch stared, mouth full of ration bar. “…Stars help us.”

Fixer typed one more command, closed his console, and glanced at Tech.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Tech nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I’d… like that.”

Scorch snorted. “Maker, you two really are bonding over data encryption. Someone warn the Nulls. The nerds are uprising.”

“Statistically improbable,” Tech said absently.

Scorch just cackled.

⸻

Kamino — Outer Training Deck Gamma

The storm rolled heavy over the ocean, lightning painting the sky in violent flashes that reflected off the metal plating of the training yard. A dozen cadets stood shoulder to shoulder on the firing line, their modified rifles slung low and helmets tucked under arms.

You were on the upper observation balcony, soaked to the knees from the walk out here but too stubborn to complain. This was sniper day — and the only day you’d been warned about ahead of time by Skirata with a grim smirk and a flask in hand.

“Long-range accuracy under simulated field conditions,” Vau intoned dryly as he stepped up beside you. “Each cadet will have one shot. 1,200 meters. Wind shift every six seconds. Targets move randomly. And no, we don’t let them brace.”

You raised a brow. “You want them to fail.”

Walon Vau smiled behind his helmet. “We want them to adapt.”

Down below, Crosshair stood at the edge of the group, helmet under one arm, a frown on his sharp face and his posture full of quiet tension. Unlike the other cadets — including the taller, broader sniper from Omega Squad, and the shockingly composed Null named Kom’rk — Crosshair didn’t speak to anyone.

He just watched.

And calculated.

“Cadets,” barked Sergeant Gilamar, stepping in front of them. “You will fire in pairs. One at a time. First pair: RC-1205 ‘Sev’ and Null-C Kom’rk.”

Sev stepped forward, already grinning. “Hope the target’s got a will.”

Kom’rk didn’t speak. He just dropped into a kneeling stance, rifle already shouldered.

Sev fired first — a clean, brutal shot. 1,200 meters. Impact.

Kom’rk adjusted slightly and fired — almost at the same second. His shot split Sev’s round. Even from the balcony, you heard the trainer next to you exhale.

“Show off,” Sev muttered.

Crosshair stepped up for his round when called. His partner was the Omega Squad sniper in training, a clone with textbook stance and regulation posture.

The trainer called it.

Omega fired first. A good shot — clean hit, upper right quadrant.

Crosshair barely moved.

He didn’t drop into position like the others. He crouched low, rifle steadied in his elbow rather than his shoulder, breathing so shallow it barely misted.

“Crosshair, fire.”

He didn’t even flinch. His scope realigned.

Bang.

The Omega cadet’s shot had been good.

Crosshair’s round hit dead center, splintering the internal core of the target and sending a flash of red through the training readout.

No one spoke.

“Lucky,” Omega muttered under his breath as they stood.

Crosshair’s lips curled. “Skill. Something you’d know about if you stopped shaking when you breathe.”

That got the kid angry. “Say that again?”

Crosshair just kept walking, leaving his helmet tucked under one arm, his long rifle balanced with the lazy grace of a child who knew he was better and didn’t care who liked it.

“Arrogant little shabuir,” Skirata grunted from the back.

“He’s not wrong,” you murmured.

“He’s not right either,” Vau added. “That kid is a shot — no question. But he’s ice. He pushes everyone away. That kind of sniper gets someone killed on a team.”

You didn’t reply. Your gaze followed Crosshair as he returned to the prep bench, checking the sights again, not speaking to anyone. Even Sev gave him a sidelong glance.

“He’s going to be one of the best,” you finally said.

“And the loneliest,” Skirata finished for you.

⸻

Cadet Barracks, Later That Night

Crosshair was sitting alone at his bunk, rifle spread in parts across the mat, a soft cloth in hand. He wasn’t polishing it for show. He was cleaning the trigger mechanism like it was an extension of himself.

“Nice shot today,” came a voice.

It was Sev, carrying two protein bars and a half-finished can of caf.

Crosshair didn’t look up. “You missed center.”

“You split it,” Sev shrugged. “Didn’t say you weren’t better. Just didn’t think you’d still be cleaning that thing two hours later.”

“It keeps me steady.”

Sev flopped down across from him. “You know you can be good at your job and also have a personality, right?”

Crosshair finally looked up. “I don’t care about personality.”

“Clearly.”

A pause.

“I was going to offer to help you mod the scope next week,” Sev muttered, “but now I’m thinking I’ll just watch you struggle.”

Crosshair smirked faintly. “I don’t struggle.”

Sev rolled his eyes. “You do now. You’re talking to me.”

⸻

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[catscidr]

Can you make a scenario with obedient reader who is getting experimented on by Dottore please ☺️

nonnie i started writing this at 1 in the morning yesterday because i couldn't stop thinking about it and i may or may not have gone over my self imposed word limit. however....... hot doctor. so. hope u enjoy because ik i sure as hell did ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: dottore being just a biiit creepy, slightly suggestive (?), normal tension + sexual tension asgnfns includes: fem!reader, dottore wc: 1,9k

“Stick your tongue out.” 

Dottore places his gloved thumb on your tongue, knocking you out of your daze.  

As per your routine, the doctor performs a quick, partial check-up to assess your physical state before diving right into his scheduled experiments. What he had planned you never knew; such was the joy of being one of the second Harbinger’s playthings. 

He gazes into your mouth with an almost bored expression as he looks for anything out of the ordinary. Being so close to his face, you could feel the warmth of his breath tickling your cheeks and the sharp point of his mask just barely grazing your jaw. When finally satisfied, Dottore mumbles something about nothing that’ll skew the test results and pulls his hand back, wiping your saliva off on his coat. You shut your jaw and look at him expectantly, waiting. 

He turns his back to you and rummages through a drawer, taking out an assortment of what appears to be wires coming out of a small rectangular box with even more wires sticking out of that. You glance at the machine and then back up at Dottore, a question burning on your tongue that he answers before you get the chance to voice it out loud. 

“This right here,” he sets the machine down on the table and plugs some cables into his laptop, “is a polygraph. Do you know what it is?” he asks with the ghost of a smile, hands buried in his pristine lab coat. You nod silently. 

“A lie detector,” the doctor says, disregarding your answer. He takes out a vial from his pockets and brings it up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, observing how the liquid shone at the right angle. Letting his arm fall to his side, he takes a few steps around the table and towards the chair you’re sitting in, bending down to your height. 

“Do you know what this is?” 

He brings his hand up to show you the vial in question. A purple, slightly translucent solution that came halfway up the thin glass, shut tightly with the help of a small cork seal. You already knew what you had to do with it, but not what the liquid itself did. Slowly, you shake your head and tear your gaze away from the liquid, looking back up at the man in front of you. His expression doesn’t change for a second, observing your own carefully. 

“Simply put, it’s a truth serum. Anyone that drinks this will find that they will be rendered unable to lie. Of course, the serum itself is still being tested, which is precisely why you’re here,” he says, his smile growing just slightly. You part your lips, hesitant to speak. 

“So, you... want me to drink the potion and then take a lie detector test to verify whether it worked or not?” you ask with a small glimmer of hope in your eyes. The doctor nods curtly, his expression unwavering. You internalize a sigh; looks like you lucked out today and won’t have to endure any physical torture this time around. 

“Now drink,” he says, emphasizing the order by taking out the cork top with a quiet pop, bringing the vial up to your lips. Your hand reaches up to grab the glass but right as you reach it, Dottore uses his free hand to swat your hand away. You tear your gaze away from the serum and look up at the doctor- his expression flat, lips devoid of the small smile that was previously on his face. He pushes the vial closer to you, the edge of the tube pressing against the plush of your lips, forcing you to tilt your head back ever so slightly. 

“Drink,” he repeats, his deep voice rumbling your nerves. 

You part your lips and tilt your head back even more, allowing the Harbinger the space to push the vial past your lips. Your throat bobbed as soon as the serum made its way down, Dottore’s stare unwavering from your face. The purple serum slid down smoothly; the lack of any discernable taste only being slightly unnerving, all things considered. 

Dottore stares at you long enough for you to start becoming nervous by his presence. However, as soon as your pulse quickens, he leans back and puts an acceptable distance between the two of you as he puts away the, now empty, vial back in his coat pocket. 

“How do you feel?” 

That makes you pause. How did you feel? Nervous, anxious? Awkward, even? The answer was an obvious all of the above. However, this was in response to Dottore’s unusual closeness, not in result of the serum changing your body in any way, shape or form. In fact, you didn’t really feel anything other than your heart racing in your ribcage. You felt strangely normal, which only fueled the slight agitation boiling in the pit of your stomach; feeling anything less than discomfort when subjected to Dottore’s experiments was nothing short of unusual. But, knowing he couldn’t care less for an answer that doesn't regard the effects of the serum, you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

“I feel fine,” you say as normally as you could. Dottore narrows his eyes, observing your behavior with interest, but doesn’t push further. 

He directs his attention back to the polygraph on the table, wires hanging loosely off the side of the surface. Grabbing the four cables, he peels off the protective film off from the sticky sides and sticks two cables on your temples and one on your wrist. Holding the last cable, he looks down at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Tilt your head back for me,” he says quietly, voice unassuming. 

You do as he says and, as soon as your throat is revealed, Dottore plunges his hand into your shirt. He sticks the last cable to the top of your left breast, fingers grazing the plush skin for a moment before he retracts his hand and rounds the corner of the table. Your heart pounds in your ribcage, your poor, weak mind reeling at how physical he seemed to be getting despite the psychological nature of the experiment. He makes no further comment as he opens his laptop and does whatever it is he needs to do in order to start the test. 

“Keep staring at the wall. I’m going to be asking you a series of questions. You are to answer with the first thing that comes to your mind, in the most natural way possible. Understood?” Dottore says rigidly. You nod quickly, replying with a quiet yes, sir. 

“Then let’s begin. What is your name?” he asks, leaning his chin into his palm. 

You tell him your name which, obviously, doesn’t make the lie detector go off. He nods and continues, asking questions that range from “where are you from”, “when is your birthday” and “how tall are you”. 

However, the more he speaks, the more his questions become increasingly... risky to answer. 

“What do you think of my experiments?” 

Holding your tongue, you mull it over for a moment. Even though you knew that no matter what you intended to say wouldn’t matter, that you’d just tell the truth no matter what, you wanted to think carefully either way. After a moment you part your lips, still staring at the wall like he instructed at the start, and speak. 

“Sometimes they can be painful, but I know you’re doing what’s best for me and... everyone else.” You felt the way your hands clammed up from sweat, the plastic chair becoming increasingly uncomfortable for you to sit in without shifting your weight. Dottore looks at the screen of his laptop and grins, his gaze finding your tense figure once again. 

“What do you think of me?” he asks, and even though you can’t see his expression, you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

You respond without allowing yourself to stress over what your truth is. 

“I think you have a strong work ethic, and I... admire you for it.” 

His lips stretch into a wide, uncharacteristic smile. Dottore stays quiet, stalling for the next question to let you simmer with what you just said. He shifts his position on the table, leaning forward over the computer with both hands clasped in front of him. 

“And what do you think of me, not as a Harbinger but as a simple, regular man?” he asks coyly, his mask hiding the way his crimson eyes pierced a path into your side profile. 

“That you’re attractive,” you blurt out, head tilting to the side away from him to hide the way your cheeks immediately warmed up. The doctor scoffs, amused by the sheepish display merely a few feet in front of him. 

“Hm. Good,” he hums to himself, straightening his back to lean into the chair he sat on. “Look at me,” he orders firmly. 

Not even giving yourself the time to process his words, you automatically turn your head to look at your captor. The sight of his pleased, seemingly innocent smile made your heart flutter. He grabs the side of his laptop and turns it around so you can look at the... blank screen?  

Before you can question what exactly it is you were looking at, Dottore speaks up. 

“I wasn’t tracking your answers. I lied to you. What did you say you felt after drinking the serum?” he asks with a tilt of his head, amusement clear on his face. You freeze, brows raising ever so slightly as the cogs turn in your head. 

“Nothing...?” you murmur quietly, slowly understanding what he meant. 

“Nothing, because you just drank water. With a dash of food coloring, sure, but water nonetheless.” 

“Ah.” 

Looking at his intricate mask then back down at the blank laptop screen, you felt yourself become increasingly embarrassed the longer the silence between you two stretched out. Dottore chuckles heartily, the sound revibrating in the small room as he stood up to loom over your figure. 

“Technically, you could still call this an experiment. What if you did lie? There’s a possibility you did since nothing forced you to tell the truth. However, I know you wouldn’t.” 

He leans down to your height, a gloved hand coming up to tilt your head back, holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re always so good to me, you know. So obedient, compliant and malleable,” he sighs, a soft and eerie smile on his face. “My favorite test subject,” he whispers. 

Glued in place, you do nothing aside from staring up at him with wide doe eyes, your cheeks flushed as a result from the attention he gave you. 

“What a good girl you are,” he mumbles to himself, but still loud enough that you can hear. The doctor was so close that you could just barely feel the warmth of his body against you aside from his hand holding you still, his lips ghosting over your own. 

With a chuckle, Dottore straightens his back and looks down at you with a knowing smirk, acutely aware of the effect he had on you. He hums, faking being lost in his thoughts, conscious that you sat there, waiting, silently begging for more. 

“How about a reward, then?” he suggests in a low voice. “Prove yourself to me, prove that you spoke nothing but the truth, and I’ll reward you handsomely.” Dottore tilts his head in a way that can only be described as condescending, smiling at your bashfulness. Slowly, he takes off the wire stuck to your body, his hand lingering beneath your shirt, over the cable stuck to your chest. 

“I’m sure you’d enjoy that, my pretty test subject.” 

[in1-nutshell]

Can you do one where mtmte bot buddy is perceptor easily scared younger sibling that has a crush on rodimus? Thanks for the help with how to inbox my request.

I've been noticing a trend with request for Rodimus lately. Our Co-Captain is getting some loving hours.

Hope you enjoy!

Perceptor's younger sibling who is scared easily with a crush on Rodimus

SFW, Romantic, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Buddy had always been a jumpy bot.

Whether it be in the heat of the moment or in times of peace, something always had Buddy on edge about something.

“YYEEEP!”--Buddy

“What was it this time?”--Perceptor

“I thought I felt something on my pedes.”--Buddy

“Hmm.”--Perceptor

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me! I’m telling you I felt something on my pede and now its not there!”--Buddy

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Red Alert.”--Perceptor

“Hey leave Red out of this!”—Buddy

“Yeah leave—”—Red Alert

“AHH!”--Buddy

“AHH!”—Red Alert

That being said, Perceptor is protective of his younger sibling.

He loves them, scaredy bot, and all.

He does try and help Buddy in his own ways by trying to rationalize everything, which helps them a bit, but too much.

Is willing to put a bot in their place if they try to make fun of Buddy for their jumpiness.

Primus forbid that someone does scare them with malicious intent.

He wasn’t a Wrecker for nothing.

Buddy had tried going to Ratchet or any other doctor or nurse to see if it was a medical problem.

“I don’t see anything bout of the ordinary here kid.”--Ratchet

“Nothing?”--Buddy

“Perfectly normal frame inside and outside. I think you just get jumpy too often. You can always go see Rung if it gets any worse.”--Ratchet

“Thank—”--Buddy

Whirl barging into the medbay.

“HAS ANYONE SEEN CYCLONUS OR PANIC BUTTON?”--Whirl

“Whirl! Please, you’re—”—Ratchet

THUNK!

Buddy passing out on the med slab with their spark beat going wild.

“Ohhh… Jumpy’s here.”--Whirl

“Yes…”--Ratchet

In the lab.

Perceptor looking up from his work.

“Is your Buddy sense tingling?”--Brianstorm

“Stop calling it that.”--Perceptor

“But it is!”--Brainstorm

“Brainstorm.”--Perceptor

“Perceptor.”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm saw this problem as a challenge and had asked Buddy if they were willing to be tested to see if he could solve the problem.

Buddy had never been raced out of the lab faster than at that moment.

“Brainstorm?”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Brainstorm

“Is this safe?”--Buddy

Buddy sitting on the lab table with several jumper cables clipped into their frame with a series of wires on their helm.

“Oh Buddy! Of course, it is relatively safe, in theory.”--Brainstorm

“In theory?”--Buddy

“Yes. Everything comes from a theory. Now whether this is a good theory is what we are about to answer now!”--Brainstorm

“Does Percy know?”--Buddy

“What he don’t, know wont hurt Buddy. Now let’s flip this—”--Brainstorm

“BRAINSTORM!”--Perceptor

“He sounds mad! What did you do!?”--Buddy

“Nothing!”--Brainstorm

“Brainstorm.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Brainstorm

“…”--Buddy

“… I may have locked him in the closet before I grabbed you from Swerve’s…”--Brainstorm

“…You know, for one of the smartest bots on the ship, you sure can make a dumb decision.”--Buddy

“What--”--Brainstorm

BANG!

Perceptor kicking down the lab doors with his snipper rifle in his servos.

“AAHHHHH!”—Brainstorm and Buddy

No mercy from Percy.

Their friend group had gotten used to Buddy’s jump scares after the first few times.

Sometimes they were the cause of it.

Buddy would always laugh it up in the end.

They would never take it too far so it was all fun and games.

But there was one thing on board that made their spark run faster than the scares.

Rodimus Prime.

The captain was going to be the death of them, they were sure of it.

The two got along great, which wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Buddy liked the reckless captain.

“Has anyone seen Rodimus? He should have been here by now.”--Buddy

“Nope.”--Chromedome

“No.”--Rewind

“Haven’t seen you’re Conjux since this morning.”--Brainstorm

“Conjux?! Brainstorm!”--Buddy

“Don’t lie to me Buddy I’ve seen how you two look at each other. Everyone on the ship practically knows about it.”--Brainstorm

“Oh don’t tease them Brainstorm.”--Chromedome

“thank you—”--Buddy

“Its not their fault that they are both oblivious to each others feelings.”--Rewind

“You too Rewind?”--Buddy

“I’m getting sick and tired of watch you two pine over each other.”--Rewind

“Who’s pining?”--Rodimus

“GAH! Roddy, don’t do that!”--Buddy

“Hahaha! You know you can’t be mad at me.”--Rodimus

“…One of these days I’m going to get a spark attack because of you.”--Buddy

With their friendship the amount of reckless stunts had gone down.

Something Ultra Magnus was grateful for.

Buddy the ever worry wart always tried to talk their captain from doing many reckless activities.

Most times they would work, but that would usually mean that he would try to do another activity that was less of a threat without Buddy looking.

Rodimus trying to get off the ship to go meteor surfing.

“Rodimus!”--Buddy

“Shh! Megs will hear you!”--Rodimus

“And? You are in no condition to go meteor surfing! You just got out of the medbay from last expedition.”--Buddy

“And I’m fine!”--Rodimus

“Please…”--Buddy

“…Fine. But you have to help me with some of the reports.”--Rodimus

“Deal.”--Buddy

“After I go and flip over the captains chair!”--Rodimus

Rodimus jumping and failing to do a flip landing on his faceplate.

“Roddy!”--Buddy

“Hmmm?”--Rodimus

“Hang on I’m bringing you to Ratchet.”--Buddy

“Nooo… I don’t wanna.”--Rodimus

Buddy throwing him over their shoulder like a sack of potatotes.

“Too bad Captain.”--Buddy

Key word try.

Buddy watched him sometimes like a hawk.

The other times that Buddy wouldn’t be able to talk him out of the activity ended up with Buddy joining.

Those time Rodimus would smile that smile of his that could literally light up a room.

“How did I end up here?”--Buddy

“What do you mean?”--Rodimus

“Here!”--Buddy

Buddy latched on a cord dangling from the ceiling by their chassis.

Rodimus on the ground with his arms wide open.

“I must have my circuits fired to even say yes to this!”--Buddy

“Nope, I just asked, and you said ‘yes’.”--Rodimus

“I know!”--Buddy

“Relax Buddy its just a trust fall!”--Rodimus

“Yeah! But I didn’t think it was going to be from this height!”--Buddy

“It’ll be okay! Just let go!”--Rodimus

“Let go?!”--Buddy

“Trust me Buddy! You’ll be all right! Just trust me!”--Rodimus

Buddy saying one more pray to Primus before detaching from the chord, screaming on the way down.

Rodimus catching them nearly falling on the floor too.

“See! I gotcha—Buddy?”--Rodimus

Buddy passing out.

Perceptor knew about Buddy’s little crush on the Captain.

While he would have wish it be on another crew member, he supposed that Rodimus wasn’t the worst of them all.

After talking it over with Drift, Perceptor decided that it would be a good idea to actually talk to Buddy about it.

“Percy?”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Perceptor

“What’s going on? We don’t usually have private talks like these. Wait! Did something bad happen to you?”--Buddy

“No, no, I asked you to meet me here to talk.”--Perceptor

“To… talk?”--Buddy

“Yes.”--Perceptor

“Okay, I’ll bite what did you want to talk to me about?”--Buddy

“Its about Rodimus.”--Perceptor

“What about him? Did some—”--Buddy

“Nothing happened to him…yet.”--Perceptor

“What?”--Buddy

“I noticed you and the Captain have been spending more and more time with each other. And if my theory proves me correst, you like him.”--Perceptor

“Umm… where did you—I mean, me and Roddy—I mean—”--Buddy

“Its okay.”--Perceptor

“What?”--Buddy

“I’m fine with you dating Rodimus.”--Perceptor

“Really! But doesn’t he annoy you? Especcially two days ago when he said ‘science is magic’. You nearly grabbed your riffle and made him into Swiss cheese.”--Buddy

“… Yes. I have taken that into account, but you are mainly going to be spending time with him. He wont be my Conjux, he’ll be yours.”--Perceptor

“Conjux!”--Buddy

“That was a joke.”--Perceptor

“It didn’t sound like it!”--Buddy

“How do you intend on telling him?”--Perceptor

“You’re just filled with questions aren’t you?”--Buddy

“I’m a scientist Buddy.”--Perceptor

“Yeah, but its not that simple Percy.”--Buddy

“How so?”--Perceptor

“I can’t just go up to him and say ‘Hey Roddy, I like you a lot. You want to go out with me? We can go to Swerve’s for our first date. We can drink, dance, and watch movies all night long’.”--Buddy

“What?”--Rodimus

“Don’t sound like that Percy—”--Buddy

“That wasn’t me.”--Perceptor

“Then who—”--Buddy

Rodimus standing in front of the door way.

Buddy’s fans kicking in before passing out.

“How long where you there?”--Perceptor

“Long enough to know Buddy already beat me to the chase and already had a date night planned.”--Rodimus

“…If you ever think or try to hurt them in anyway, I know how to shoot in between your seams and make you go through the worse pain imaginable before any medic comes to help you. Do I make myself clear?”--Perceptor

“Clear. And the thought of hurting them is the last thing I would want to do.”--Rodimus

“Good.”--Perceptor

“Yeah.”--Rodimus

“…”--Perceptor

“…”--Rodimus

“We should probably get Buddy to Ratchet.”--Rodimus

“Agreed.”--Perceptor

[howlingday]

The Smartest Man in the Room

Jaune: ...Dr. Watts, I have a puzzle for you.

Watts: Oh?

Jaune: You see, Man A wants to kill Man B.

Watts: And what am I told?

Jaune: It's a minimum information puzzle, sir. The two men are in a room, sir. Like this one. Lots of people are downstairs. Man A, the killer, plans to use a gun.

Watts: Then the shot would be heard.

Jaune: Man A uses a silencer.

Watts: He would also need to dispose of the gun.

Jaune: He would have to hide the gun, so that's why he uses an umbrella.

Watts: ...

Jaune: May I see your umbrella, Dr. Watts?

Watts: Using an umbrella to hide a gun? Hah! How ridiculously pedestrian! But, if that is what you wish, you may see it. In fact, you could even use your gun.

Jaune: Oh, I don't have a gun, sir. Never did. But Man A uses the gun.

Watts: With a silencer, yes, yes. (Chuckles, Presents umbrella)

Jaune: You see, sir, Man A, the killer, plans to hide the gun in the umbrella and then hide the umbrella in the chimney.

Watts: Ah, but there would be soot on the umbrella.

Jaune: Of course, sir! There would be soot! And, also, there's a secondary use of the umbrella. (Pulls out object) These are like loud firecrackers. My very good friend, Yang, introduced them to me. She says they're called squibs. Now, Man A intends to use these squibs to simulate gunfire after the body has already been shot.

Watts: Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Arc, but aren't these squibs known to leave behind paper trails after detonating? The killer would surely be caught!

Jaune: Yes, sir, which is why he intends to use the umbrella to catch the squibs inside!

Watts: (Smirks) Quite ingenious, but if these are firecrackers, as you say, then wouldn't they leave burns? Scorch marks? And, as you can see, this umbrella is perfectly unmarred.

Jaune: You're absolutely right, sir, but let's suppose the killer, Man A, had a different umbrella? (Snaps fingers) Ah! I forgot to tell you, sir! Last night, while I was in your office, I took the wrong umbrella. (Steps away) Excuse me, sir. Just one moment. (Moves, Returns with another umbrella)

Watts: ...

Jaune: I grabbed yours on accident. It was an honest mistake, really. And, as you know, we can't gather evidence like this. But, since I had it, I figured I'd get the testing done, and the lab found burns from the squibs, sir. Oh, and a lot of soot, sir.

Watts: ...I see. But I do have one question, Mr. Arc; how were these squibs detonated?

Jaune: Ah, see, Man A is a man of superbly impressive intellect~! Watch! I'll put the squibs inside the umbrella and we'll pretend that my scroll is the gun. (Folds umbrella) Now, when Man A, the killer, puts this up the chimney...

Watts: (Rolls eyes) You can't be serious...

Jaune: Oh, I am, sir! I am very serious! And now that the umbrella is up the chimaney...

Watts: (Chuckles)

Jaune: (Pulls out cables) Now, these wires are attached to a battery, sir, and they're connected to the same kind of squibs. Just hook these up into the umbrella and... (Connects) ...then we hook this other end over here to the record player. Press play and... (Music plays) attach the wires here and here. (Speaks loudly) Where I showed you the scratches, sir!

Watts: Ha! Nonsense!

Jaune: Now, the killer knows when the track will end.

Watts: Yes, yes, get on with it.

Jaune: The arm thing will hit here, making the first squib go off, and then here for the second.

Watts: Aha! But the body fell BETWEEN the two shots!

Jaune: Yes, sir, which is where the killer has to take a VERY big chance with this big book of words.

Watts: The dictionary?

Jaune: Yes, there's a line right here, and we can balance it on the edge of the table here. (Sets book) Like this!

Watts: (Music gets faster) Clever, but too unpredictable!.

Jaune: But important for the illusion.

Watts: For the sound of the body falling?.

Jaune: Exactly, sir!.

Watts: Impossible to time!.

Jaune: But this killer is very smart, sir.

Watts: Can he make the book fall between the two shots?!.

Jaune: Yes, sir.

Watts: How?!.

Jaune: I'll show you.

Watts: He would have to be a genius!.

Jaune: I think so, too, sir, but I don't want to imply that I came up with this all by myself. After all, the smartest people in the world are right here in this club, and, oh, they helped me a lot, sir.

Watts: Haha! Dunces! The lot of them!.

Jaune: You wouldn't call Dr. Poledina a dunce, would you?.

Watts: Hoho! Wouldn't I?!.

Jaune: (Music blaring) WELL, IT WAS HIS IDEA, SIR! THE BOOK! THE VIBRATIONS!.

Watts: VIBRATIONS?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!.

Jaune: THE FIRST SQUIB, SIR! HE MADE IT SOUND VERY SIMPLE! WHEN THE SQUIB GOES OFF, IT CAUSES A VIBRATION THAT KNOCKS THE BOOK DOWN! WHY, DOCTOR POLEDINA IS A VERITABLE GENIUS!.

Watts: (Visibly shaking) VIBRATIONS?! THAT FAT IMBECILE! ALL HE'S DONE IS MADE HIMSELF TO BE A BUMBLING ASS! NO!. (Grabs marker, Sets by record) THIS IS WHAT HE WOULD'VE DONE!. (Music stops) THIS!.

BANG! THUMP! BANG!

Watts: THERE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~! THERE~!

Jaune: (Smiles)

Watts: (Beaming smile of triumph)

Jaune: ....

Watts: (Smile fades to look of horror) Oh my...