#Optimus knew NOTHING about what the Lost Light got up to after they left and Rodimus acted all offended when he tried to ask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-odd-job · 3 years

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Up in Flames chapter 24 - Take Me, Although You Hate Me (Ashes Part 2)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Megatron, Sideswipe, Original Character Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 5540

Take me Although you hate me For in heaven There is no heartless madness Blind me Before the truth hurts Show me heaven I need your heartless madness

— Dynazty – Heartless Madness

( Previous )

The youngling was already waiting for them in their quarters that night, when they’d first gotten rid of damned Megatron, then cleaned themselves to be presentable, and lastly, on Sideswipe’s behest, said their hellos to everyone in the rec room. Or rather, Sideswipe did that, while Sunstreaker sat in sullen silence and tried to put on his best aura of “don’t talk to me”. It seemed to have worked, because only Onslaught had dared come speak with him, and the tactically minded tank was always unusually pleasant for conversation. He’d queried about their time at Shockwave’s compound, and further asked what brought them back now that the sparkling was very much out and their end of the deal was fulfilled.

Sunstreaker had provided no direct answer, but he was pretty sure Onslaught had guessed anyway, being a smart mech and whatnot. Time would show it to all, anyway. No doubt Megatron would be rather victorious when announcing their… Decision. There was no way he wouldn’t gloat.

“How’d the tour go?” Sideswipe asked as they sat down on the berth on either side of the youngling, who was idly swinging his legs over the edge.

“Good,” it responded. “The symbiotes are nice. Soundwave is a little creepy, but no more so than Shockwave. And everything’s so… Bright.”

“Not near as bright as things are outside,” Sunstreaker rumbled, glancing at the lone, dim light in the ceiling of their room that didn’t do much to chase away the gloom permeating every inch of the ship. After the black of Shockwave’s compound, though, this had to be quite an improvement already. Pits, there was color and everything.

“It’s very bright outside,” the youngling agreed, not sounding necessarily happy about that, but it would be just a matter of getting used to the way things were supposed to be—even on Cybertron, as much as their planet had been clad in eternal night far longer than the twins had been alive.

“What now?” the youngling continued, looking between them. “Did you and sire talk about something important? Ravage said you did.”

Sideswipe huffed a laugh even as Sunstreaker growled to himself. Was it just Ravage making a good guess, or Soundwave knowing too much for anyone’s good, again?

Well, didn’t really matter. “We did,” Sunstreaker confirmed all the same. ‘Talk’ might’ve been a bit of a strong term for how things had gone down, but the youngling certainly didn’t need to know the intricacies of its creators’ relationship.

“The symbiotes said you don’t belong to sire’s faction yet,” it said, frowning. Disapproving? Likely, after everything it had heard over the course of its ridiculously short life. Indeed, if the Autobots were such wicked wannabe murderers and general banes of Cybertron, why were the twins not sworn to oppose them? “You used to fight against him.”

“Just how much did the symbiotes talk?” Sideswipe laughed, flopping onto his back on the berth.

“A lot,” was all it said, unhelpfully not elaborating on how much it already knew and how much it was still in the dark on.

Sunstreaker sighed in an entirely exaggerated manner, drawing its attention back to himself. “We’ve made some mistakes in life, such as signing up with the Autobots when the war got underway—though, mind you, not by choice.”

“But you don’t fight for them anymore,” it pointed out, and this time it sounded more approving. “You had me with sire—Megatron.”

“And you are the reason we’re not stuck with the Autobots anymore,” Sideswipe piped in. The youngling squawked when Sideswipe stuck his claws somewhere between armor gaps, only to have his servo slapped away with a glare. Sideswipe, naturally, had no more to give than an unrepentant grin.

“Yeah, did we go and betray our old side a little bit by dallying with your sire? I think we did,” Sunstreaker said to some more chortling from Sideswipe.

“But I was unplanned,” the youngling said, and clearly it knew quite a bit already. It would’ve been so nice if it had just said how much it knew, but it still didn’t seem very eager to do so—although at this point Sunstreaker almost got the feeling it was cross-referencing what it had heard with what their side of the story was. Smart thing, if that was the case.

“You were entirely unplanned,” Sunstreaker confirmed. “If it wasn’t for you, the Autobots likely wouldn’t have found out about my… Liaisons with your sire quite so soon.”

“You never told them.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement the youngling made. “Sire did that for you when you refused to do it.”

“Oh yes.” Was that a bit of disgruntlement slipping into his voice? But he was still a little angry about that whole incident, so excuse him. Disgruntled or not, Sunstreaker continued, “He very effectively smoked me right out of the Autobots and proceeded to tell me exactly what I was to do about you.” Definitely disgruntled and growling by now. The youngling’s lips twitched into a straight up smile. Sunstreaker glared at it.

“So I was a good thing,” it concluded. “Because of me, sire forced you out of the Autobots, and now you don’t have to fight for them anymore.”

“Astute,” Sunstreaker commented with a roll of his optics. It sounded a lot like a small laugh the youngling made this time around, but it had more to say.

“Will you fight for sire now?" it asked. "Rumble and Frenzy said you could've left once I separated, but you didn't. Why?"

Ah, the million dollar question. Why?

Why indeed.

"That was what we talked about," Sunstreaker said, earning himself a curious look from the youngling. "As you know, your sire sent us to Cybertron to keep you safe, but now that you're no longer in harm's way quite the same, he wanted to know if we'd finally fight for him."

"What was your answer?"

"Yes."

It was definitely approval mixed with pleasure that burst in the youngling's field. Pits but it had opinions already, clearly, such as Autobot bad, Decepticon good. "Why now?" it wanted to know, though.

Sunstreaker ticked off their primary reasons with his digits, three as there were. "They tried to kill you, Optimus Prime is a soft-sparked idiot and a very bad bet for the future of Cybertron, and to secure your future—something you will not even have if the Autobots win the war."

"So you're mostly doing it for me," it frowned. "And because you think sire is right?"

Did they think Megatron was right? There were presently exactly two options for Cybertron's future leadership, and they didn't want to support Optimus. Did that make Megatron right, though, or only the lesser evil? "Well, for you, if nothing else," Sunstreaker said with a frown of his own. He wasn’t certain they were yet ready to decide on the other point. Their opinion on it wouldn’t markedly change their actions anyway, for now. Their other reasons were plenty enough.

“Do you think your sire’s right?” Sideswipe asked curiously. Sunstreaker looked at the youngling too, only to see it nod firmly.

"Based on what I know so far? Yes."

Well. That didn't take long. "Why?" Sunstreaker asked. He wasn't judging—after all it only seemed like natural progression for a mech Megatron was hoping to make the heir to his empire—but they were curious over where the certainty had come from. Pits, the youngling had barely even talked to Megatron. All it had to go off on were the stories of the Decepticons, though it had to be granted that it had heard things from quite a few vocalizers. It wasn't going off based on just one telling.

“Everyone says he’s strong,” it said, intent on all strength—physical, emotional, mental, that of personality… Oh, Megatron had it all. Didn’t Sunstreaker know that much. “He’s never lost motivation or sight of his goals, despite how long the war has gone on for. He does what it takes, no matter what it takes. He doesn’t give up.”

“And what of what he’s like as an individual? You don’t actually know him yourself,” Sunstreaker pointed out.

“What does it matter?” the youngling shot back without hesitation. “That he’s a strong leader is what matters.

“Besides, you love him, so there has to be something to like.”

…Say what now? Sideswipe burst out into laughter until he was wheezing and Sunstreaker stared at the youngling, who stared right back without waver. It didn’t look like it was really registering having said anything off. If anything, it only seemed confused over Sideswipe’s reaction, and then raised its optical ridges at Sunstreaker for what he said next.

“I don’t love him,” Sunstreaker sneered the moment he managed to shove his surprise aside. The youngling was dissatisfyingly blase about that, just waving its servo in dismissal.

“Like him, whatever. You see something in him.”

“I hate him, that’s what I see in him,” Sunstreaker growled, reaching in one quick motion and wrapping his servo around the youngling’s throat—squeezing, warning. Sideswipe only laughed harder even as Sunstreaker knew his own field dripped with bale as he leaned towards the youngling, staring into its vaguely concerned, deep red optics. “And you would do well to remember that.”

After a second's hesitation, it nodded, as much as it could with his hold on its neck. “I’ll remember that.”

Sunstreaker studied it a moment longer for any trace of a lie, before he was satisfied the point had been driven home and released it. The youngling rubbed at its throat, but seemed very careful to not react otherwise despite the vague displeasure in its field. “Where did you get that idea from, anyway?” Sunstreaker asked.

“The symbiotes said as much,” it shrugged. “I thi– Thought it made sense.”

“After what you’ve seen of us, you thought it made sense?” he asked in disbelief. Those damn symbiotes. If Soundwave wouldn’t have slagged him if he rearranged their limbs for gossiping, he would’ve done that. Fraggers needed to learn to mind their own business and not corrupt his slagging creation.

“With what I know of you, yeah.” It looked a lot like it wanted to glare at him, but didn’t quite dare to do so when it glanced his way. Sunstreaker ground his denta together before he ran one rough servo down his faceplates, not even resisting the urge to let his engine rev, hard. Sideswipe, at least, said nothing to sway the situation in any direction, despite his chuckles having not yet died down entirely. Sunstreaker would’ve said something about not believing everything you hear, but it wasn’t as if the youngling had blindly listened to the symbiotes. Rather, it had compared things to what it knew, and then came to the entirely wrong conclusion that the symbiotes weren’t terribly mistaken. It had thought for itself, even if it hadn’t thought right.

“Anyway, you’ll fight for sire from now on. You’ll become real Decepticons,” the youngling said, returning back to their previous topic. “I think that’s good.”

“It kinda is, isn’t it?” Sideswipe agreed right before snatching the youngling and pulling it down with him. It growled at him, but when Sunstreaker reclined as well, it didn’t try to get back up and got comfortable in the space between them instead.

“You’re doing the right thing,” came its murmured opinion—and maybe they were.

For it, at least, they were.

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

Megatron didn’t waste much time announcing to all of the Decepticons what the twins had decided to do. Change their allegiance, wholly and officially. The following day had barely started when everyone not absolutely needed on duty was called to the throne room—because of course Megatron would have one, even on a spaceship. The twins knew what that was about. They got enough knowing looks that they could guess quite a few others had an idea of what it was likely to be about, too, even if there was also some confusion mixed in from those that didn’t catch on quite so quickly.

But the truth remained that the twins were still here, despite the youngling’s rather damning presence clearly signaling their ties to Megatron had gotten severed. Was there really any other way than this that things could go down? Why would Megatron even agree to keep them around if they continued to be absolutely useless?

Why would they have stuck around if they had no plans to change anything?

Things were changing. “My friends,” Megatron said in full grandeur once everyone had assembled. He was standing in front of his throne, Starscream on his right, Soundwave on his left, and where Soundwave was as impassive as ever, Starscream was sending some mean glares in the twins’ direction.

Sunstreaker glared right back even as he kept one audial on Megatron’s little speech. Sideswipe was listening with half a spark too, the youngling next to him, but much of his brother’s attention was also on the other Decepticons. So curious about their reactions. “Long have the Autobots locked us in a stalemate. We struck a blow to them when we relieved them of two of their frontliners,” oh, weren’t they getting lots of looks now, “and now I am pleased to announce we are about to have two frames join our ranks.”

Half of the occupants in the room flared in surprise, others with a sense of ‘I knew it’, and then a cacophony of noise. Cheers, whistles, and quite a few exclamations to the effect of, “Finally!” Someone clapped Sideswipe on the back, and when he turned to look, he could see Dirge grinning at him. He wasn’t the only one with the expression, either.

The overarching sentiment was definitely positive from the looks of things.

And then there was Starscream. “My liege, you can’t be serious!” the Seeker could be heard saying. “Their loyalties are questionable at best. They’re nothing more than Autobot liabilities!”

“And your loyalties are any better?” Megatron asked from his Second very pointedly. Sunstreaker smirked.

Starscream wasn’t wholly discouraged, though. “They’ve served their use, my Lord. You have the youngling. Exile them.” How come they hadn’t had this discussion in private, anyway? Or maybe they had and Starscream was just trying to turn the rank and file against them.

“Their prowess is unquestionable. I will have it at my disposal,” Megatron said, and without giving Starscream a chance to continue further, lifted his arms. The room fell silent again. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, step forward.”

They did and Megatron sat down on his goddamn throne. He gestured them forward until they were at the bottom of the steps leading to it. There, they were given another order. “Kneel.”

Sunstreaker hesitated just for the length of one spark rotation and Sideswipe made no move before he did, but then, as one, they lowered themselves onto one knee and bowed their heads. Their spark fluttered with just a hint of nervousness. This was hardly a point of no return and they could always change their minds… Except, if they did after this, they were likely to have their helms cut off for personally slighting Megatron.

So maybe it was a point of no return, anyway.

“Will you fight your former comrades in my name?” Megatron asked, and Primus, the anticipation in the room. It was like everyone was hungry for their words, hungry to hear them submit themselves, to hear them become their comrades. No one said a thing, no one interrupted them—not even Starscream, despite the displeasure he broadcasted in his wide cast field.

The stage was theirs, and they took it. “I will,” they said, ever together.

“Will you kill your former comrades in my name?”

“I will.”

“Do you swear fealty to me and your spark to the Decepticon cause?”

Would they?

Point of no return.

But they’d made their decision already.

“I do.”

The room broke into noise all over again—stomping, cheering, hooting, celebration. This was another victory over the Autobots, to turn one-two of them into Decepticons instead. The promise of a chance for things to change—that maybe, just maybe, something could be done about the deadlock the two sides were stuck in.

That maybe the twins could make enough of a difference.

“Rise, Decepticons Sunstreaker and Sideswipe,” Megatron said over the roar of the room.

It felt quite a bit like a new beginning, and no doubt it was meant to feel as such with the fragging ritualistic elements involved in the whole thing. It was time to close one damned chapter of their life. In the past was their life as Autobots—and when they were back on their pedes and Soundwave approached them with their new insignias… Here was their new life, that they had flirted with for quite some time already, but never quite stepped into entirely.

Until now.

Their scratched out Autobot insignias remained, and Sunstreaker got the feeling they would continue to do so as permanent marks of their past, changed allegiance, but Soundwave’s touch didn’t falter when he attached their new insignias below their Autobot ones. “Change your energy signatures,” the telepath advised them as their last step, and they did—switching their faction signature to that of a Decepticon.

And then the deed was done. Soundwave nodded at them before stepping away, and after a nod from Megatron as well, the brothers turned around to face their new faction. Sideswipe, immediately, spread his arms to show himself off, following the move by a bow in flourish that earned him some laughter and cheers. Sunstreaker kept his expression as a firm frown, but his field… He could admit there was some pleasure in it. He had sat on the sidelines of the war for too long by now.

End to that.

��I know words mean little. I expect you to prove their truth with your actions,” Megatron’s voice spoke up right behind them, and when they both glanced behind themselves, they could see him looming a step away. He wasn’t looking at them, though, but instead glaring off to the side at Starscream, who was tapping his pede impatiently, giving the impression that the two had some unfinished business to discuss. There was no question he was talking to them, though.

“So you do have some sense in that helm,” Sunstreaker huffed and Megatron’s glare transferred to him. Sunstreaker merely raised an optical ridge in return.

“Why, yes, I do have some sense,” Megatron snarled at him, grabbing him by the jaw and decidedly not letting go when Sunstreaker tried to jerk his helm away. Thus Sunstreaker returned the glare given to him. Megatron held his gaze with wicked optics for a good moment–

But that was all there was before he let go of him with a simple, “Go celebrate.”

“Aye aye, boss,” Sideswipe grinned with a salute before Sunstreaker could get a word in to make the situation a little worse. The look Megatron gave his brother was a smidge exasperated, but he turned away in time with Sideswipe grabbing Sunstreaker by the servo and dragging him into the midst of the gathered Decepticons eager to welcome them.

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

There was indeed celebration. High grade didn’t flow, because frankly, the Decepticons couldn’t afford luxuries like that, but there was music and dancing, loud conversation and rambunctious laughter. Sunstreaker had sequestered himself against one wall of the rec room with Thundercracker, but Sideswipe, naturally, was right in the middle of the hubbub. Skywarp had accosted the youngling to teach it some dance moves from the looks of things, and while it didn’t necessarily look happy about it, it was putting in the effort to try. Its control over its frame had certainly improved, and a bit of dancing could only help.

“Was that amount of show really necessary?” Sunstreaker growled as he watched Skywarp’s impromptu dance lesson. From the corner of his optic, he could see Thundercracker raise his optical ridges at him.

“You seemed to take to it well,” the Seeker commented. “It’s good for morale.”

“It’s over the top,” he scoffed. “There can’t possibly be that amount of ceremony involved in it for everyone, either.”

“No, but notable defections are worth a little extra attention, don’t you think?”

“Well, I’m worth the extra attention, if nothing else.”

Thundercracker huffed a small laugh. “Of course you are.”

And if he was to be a morale booster while at it, well, was that really a bad thing even if it was completely ridiculous? He couldn’t really deny that the effect was rather… Obvious, on the other Decepticons. The mood had been lifted with their official introduction into the faction, as if the fact they had left Autobots in the first place hadn’t already done that to an extent.

The youngling had done its part, too, as a little hope for the future, despite most not really knowing how to react to it yet—which could probably be attributed to who its sire was. How were you supposed to treat the offspring of your sovereign leader? Few seemed to know the answer to that. Really only Skywarp, the symbiotes and Soundwave, as well as the Combiner team leaders seemed to be relaxed around it and treated it no differently than they treated anyone else. Granted, that could bite them in the aft yet, if either the youngling or Megatron decided “like everyone else” wasn’t an appropriate way to treat it.

But if nothing else, the youngling didn’t seem to be about to start demanding undue amounts of respect. If you asked Sunstreaker, it hadn’t earned it yet, anyway. Lineage wasn’t enough for that; your own actions needed to speak for you. It wasn’t the youngling’s fault it hadn’t had the chances for actions like that yet, but until it did… It had a promise of a future few could dream of, but that was all.

What kind of a creator would he be if he didn’t try to coach it in the right direction, though? The glory of bloodshed and battles awaited it, but for it to succeed in that violent field, it needed practice. That was what Sunstreaker proceeded to give it in the days to come—training, with himself, with Sideswipe, with those Decepticons that stood in the same size class as them. It hadn’t changed that its focus and determination were things to be admired as it practiced against different opponents. It didn’t stand a chance if those more experienced than it—that was to say, everyone—didn’t hold back, but it did its best and improved at a perfectly acceptable pace. For quite a while still, though, training was all it would get. It wasn’t anywhere near the point where it could actually take part in the war.

The twins didn’t need to worry about details like that, but despite that, Megatron refused to deploy them. One battle went by, then another, and then a third one, and still the twins were forced to sit on the ship all pretty like, even as the amount of injuries the others came back with spoke of clear opposition provided by the Autobots.

After that third battle, Sunstreaker asked Soundwave for Megatron’s location, and once he got confirmation the warlord was in his quarters, that was where he headed. The only reason he didn’t barge in was the fact that the door was locked, so Sunstreaker pinged for entrance instead, as if he was the polite sort or something.

Somewhat surprisingly, Megatron actually opened the door for him without any excessive delay, allowing Sunstreaker to stomp in. The warlord had just one look at him before sighing. “What is it now?”

“You,” Sunstreaker growled with the jab of a digit at Megatron. He was sitting at his desk, already looking aggravated.

Sunstreaker couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn about Megatron’s precious little feelings. “You’re not letting us fight,” he accused, coming to stand next to the tyrant and placing his hands on his hips.

And glaring. So much glaring. “I thought the whole fragging point of us defecting was to fight for you. What the slag gives?”

Megatron glared right back at him before his optics dropped to his chest. Before Sunstreaker could do anything about it, Megatron had reached and caught the side of his chassis, his thumb tracing his fresh insignia. Sunstreaker shivered despite himself, but swatted the servo away.

Or tried to. Megatron wouldn’t let himself be chased away quite so easily, and his hold merely tightened instead of going anywhere. Sunstreaker snarled some more, and tried to move his entire frame away next.

That didn’t work either, because Megatron’s servo only slipped lower, until he had a firm hold of his waist. “Should I remind you you are my subordinate and I choose when and how to use you?” the tyrant asked from him, meeting his gaze again.

Sunstreaker frowned at him. “So you want to defeat your own goddamn point?”

Megatron got to his pedes, effortlessly towering over him with just that single motion. True to form, Sunstreaker didn’t let himself be cowed in the slightest despite his need to crane his helm way back to even look at the warlord in the face anymore. “I hold no illusions as to your effectiveness,” Megatron said. “You will get results when I choose to use you.”

“Flattery?” Sunstreaker scoffed, again trying to move away and again not being allowed to do so. “The pit do you think that will get you?”

“Are you not the type to enjoy having your massive ego stroked?”

Sunstreaker snarled, and when he didn’t manage to put any space between them this time either, threw his arms up in utter frustration. “I just want answers! Fragging– Okay, let’s do it your way. Why are you choosing not to use us?”

The servo Megatron wasn’t holding him in place with came up to grasp him by the jaw. Of course trying to jerk his helm away did nothing, but Sunstreaker held onto his glare even as Megatron’s thumb brushed across his lower lip. “What, fantasizing about having me again?” he growled, because certainly provoking Megatron was forever the best course of action.

“Would you be opposed to that, Decepticon Sunstreaker?”

“Oh, so you’re getting your kicks off of having us on your side for real, now?”

“This is where you should be.”

Sunstreaker faltered just enough for Megatron to smirk. Mech was fragging maddening. Did he even slagging mean that, or was he just playing around? Sunstreaker kicked him in the shin for good measure, not that it got him any sort of reaction. “You think that’s what I want to hear?”

“What do I care what you want to hear?”

“So, what, you’re just stating the truth, no regard for what I think about it?”

“Quite. Or do you disagree? Would you rather still be with the Autobots?”

“I’d rather fight,” Sunstreaker growled. “Is that so hard to understand?” Megatron’s grip in his jaw tightened until it hurt and his growl morphed into a hiss, but Sunstreaker didn’t break his glare.

“You are a trump card,” Megatron said. Sunstreaker wanted to, again, accuse him of flattery, but Megatron continued before he could get a word in, “Can you blame me for wanting to make an impression with you?”

Sunstreaker frowned in confusion, hardly even remembering to snarl when Megatron’s thumb brushed against his lip again. Impression? “The pit’s that supposed to mean?” he grouched, tugging against the tyrant’s hold as ineffectually as every past time. That was getting rather tiresome, in all honesty. “And let the frag go of me while you’re at it,” Sunstreaker tacked on with another kick, wrapping his servo around Megatron’s wrist and digging his claws in.

Megatron? Didn’t react in any satisfying manner. Or at all, really. “Drama, my dear,” he just said, and Sunstreaker very much remembered to snarl out of his growing confusion. “You’re a lover of that, aren’t you?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Presentation matters. It can demoralize. Certainly your switch in allegiance alone will do that, but…”

Sunstreaker’s frown turned a little less confused. “Are you saying you want to do some sort of dramatic unveiling of us?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Well, hadn’t he thought Megatron would want to gloat about the whole thing? Maybe it wasn’t so far out there that the mech would be waiting for the perfect opportunity to show them off and make the biggest impression in letting the Prime and all the other Autobots see what they’d chosen—what Megatron had accomplished. Maybe he hadn’t set out to do it–

Or had he? “Was our defection your plan all along?” Sunstreaker had to ask, glaring anew when Megatron’s thumb applied enough force to part his lips. He snapped his denta, drawing an amused rumble from the warlord.

“No. I was hoping for it and I’m certainly not opposed to it, but I was ready to dispose of you once–”

“Once you got tired of fragging me, huh?”

“Hm.”

Wasn’t that comforting. Then again, who would ever doubt Megatron was capable of something like that? Picking a plaything for himself, then tossing that plaything to the smelters when he grew bored of it, or it became an inconvenience, or whatever would’ve been the tipping point for it. “The sparkling sort of messed up those plans, did it?”

“Your loyalty to the Autobots was frail to begin with.”

“So you think I might’ve opted to defect even without it?”

“You disagree?”

“…Not really.”

“There, you see,” Megatron rumbled, on this side of amused.

But he also spoke with the fire of conviction. “The Autobots were squandering you, keeping you chained and muzzled—weren’t you bound to recognize you deserve better?”

With the intensity and belief Megatron put behind his own words as he always did when this particular topic came up, it was hard not to agree. Sunstreaker’s frown didn’t leave, but he shifted his optics to the side, almost… Uncomfortable?

What for? Because Megatron insisted he had been misused for the entirety of the war?

Because he didn’t quite disagree with that assessment? Wasn’t that, chained and muzzled as Megatron put it, how he’d felt among the Autobots? Out of place in the midst of mecha that didn’t even speak the same language he did? Not verbally—verbally the words they used were the same across the board, with only the difference of dialects.

But verbal languages weren’t the only ones out there. It was the rest the Autobots had never understood, a cultural chasm no one had ever managed to bridge. Hadn’t they only gotten told that their view of life was wrong, simple as that? He couldn’t say no one had ever tried to understand their side of things, because certainly those individuals had existed too.

But they were just individuals, one or two mecha here and there. The faction as a whole wasn’t… Theirs. They had been a part of it, but they’d always felt out of place, like they didn’t really belong. They weren’t Northerners.

They were Kaonite, and the Autobots had never wanted to accept everything that meant, because what that meant was Decepticon.

“Your place in the Autobots was a mistake,” Megatron continued, drawing Sunstreaker’s optics back to him, “but that error has been rectified. I will let you fight, Sunstreaker, and I will not hold you back because I would fear what you can do.”

He resisted the urge to squirm, but only barely. Megatron studied him, and pits, Sunstreaker wasn’t the type to evade others, but now he had to fight with himself to not avert his optics—to instead meet Megatron’s gaze, even knowing his own had far more uncertainty in it than he ever would have liked. “Do you believe me?” Megatron asked.

Sunstreaker spoke with the truth before he could think better of it. “I do.” It was nigh impossible not to in the face of Megatron’s certainty, that only combined with his own past doubts and reservations to form what he wanted to believe—and did. He did.

He did believe Megatron was sincere in his disapproval over the Autobots’ treatment, use of him, and he did believe the tyrant fully intended to have him fight for him, and that he would be allowed to do so with the kind of brutality the Autobots shied away from but that came so naturally to him—that he had been trained into.

If anyone understood, Megatron did.

If anyone understood, the Decepticons did.

“You’re where you were always meant to be, Sunstreaker,” Megatron said, only driving that point home further, like he wanted to make sure there was no doubt in Sunstreaker’s mind over the truth of it. Sunstreaker tried to nod, found he couldn’t against Megatron’s grip, and huffed even as his field flared with his… Acceptance of that.

They should have joined the Decepticons from the beginning. Were they given the choice in that at the time…

There was no changing the past, but he could change his future, decide on his future—and he had.

“And make no mistake,” the tyrant started, prompting Sunstreaker to focus on him instead of his thoughts, “I quite prefer you here.”

Oh, now he was admitting to it. Sunstreaker smirked. “Kiss me.”

Megatron growled, but leaned down and complied.

#transformers #maccadam #megatron #sunstreaker #sideswipe #fic #ashes #up in flames #2021

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shypansexualcrystal · 5 years

Note

Could I request some bayverse autobots visiting s/o at work as a surprise to take them out on a little mid-day date?

Bayverse Optimus and Bumblebee Visiting their S/O at work

Optimus Prime:Working at a popular bar was relatively easy for the most part if you don’t count the drunkards and men and women that grope you that is. I’ve been working in the bar since I was young since it was a family-run bar that was to be expected. However, when I first started when I was 14 to get some pocket money I was behind the till mostly or helping out in the kitchen. As I grew so did my role in the bar, now here I am working either behind the bar making drinks or serving people their drinks and meals. Today was especially busy due to the bars anniversary, all the regulars came in to celebrate — which was most of the locals — while some tourists and people who just so happened to read the sign that advertised how we had nearly half-price on most drinks visited now and again. To describe it as hectic would be an understatement.All-day I was either rushing about serving people, behind the bar or helping out in the kitchen, everyone was all over the place. I had skipped all my breaks to help keep on top of everything, by the end of my shift was exhausted and I wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for hours. Since I stayed behind until closing time as I finally bid the rest of the remaining workers a farewell and walked out into the fresh air the sky was pitch black. Sighing while looking at the sky, a cloud of condensation escaping my lungs as I did so, I wrapped my coat around me tighter and began the walk home in the dark and cold winter night.I was only a few steps away from my workplace when a loud horn sounded behind me, jumping I spun on my heel to glare at whoever it was that honked at me, as I did so I recognised the person as non-other than my Significant other, Optimus Prime. Instantly my glare changed to a bright smile He pulled up next to me and opened his cab door to allow me to climb in. “Hey Optimus, you scared me.” I giggled a little as he shut his door and began to drive down the streets.“Sorry, my bad. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He apologised I settled into the seat and was almost lulled into a peaceful sleep, Optimus drove around town while we had a nice conversation. I snuggled more into his seat while yawning. “Do you want me to drive you back home? I can see how tired you are by your one-word answers.” His voice was soft and soothing.I sat up and tried to look more alert, “No it’s fine, I’m awake.” I spoke with enthusiasm in my tone however the little yawn that followed betrayed me. I smiled straight after, however. Optimus didn’t reply, rather instead he decided to sigh.Finally, after a little more driving he came to a halt, too busy trying to stay awake I didn’t bother taking in my surroundings, I soon realized that I had shut my eyes sometime during the ride which prompted me to snap them open. Taking in the scenery I found that we had arrived at the top of a hill overlooking to the small town I lived in, the stars lit up the sky while the moon coated everything in a pale soft light.I smiled knowing he had taken us out to our little hideaway. We spent quite a while there just ranting about work and letting all our worries out. We took turns to listen to each other ranting before we finally had to end our sacred alone time due to Optimus being called back to base we both sighed and smiled at one another before heading back to base.It was nice to relax with him for that little while before going to sleep and then make my way to work once more in the afternoon the next day.BumblebeeIt’s been that was just a normal day at work, rushing about trying to make sure everything is organised and in the right place, working on my work while also trying to organise other peoples work that was sent to be to clean up and finalise the work being sent. I worked at a studio that specialized in 2D and 3D animation. I was the head of Storyboarding for a few shows the studio works on due to directors knowing me personally and liking my work. While it was hectic and I was either trying to find panels that had been lost or had been mixed up, which happen often and needed to be put back into order before being sent off to be animated. However, I adored this job and loved the work and it paid well which was a massive plus. I sighed after finishing the work I needed to complete for today. I packed up my things and headed towards the staffroom to gather the empty food containers that I used to bring in treats like homemade cookies and muffins I got from the leftovers from the party my family had last night. I baked the cookies and maybe made a little too many so I brought the leftovers for my coworkers to enjoy.Gathering my containers, I noticed I had two left, Smiling I went to my director’s office and offered him them, he took one while thanking me for thinking of him and I left his office with a smile on my face after having a little chat with him over both work and personal issues. Waiting for me outside was certain yellow Camaro I was all too familiar with. My cousin Sam got out and greeted me with a hug. “(Y/n)! Long time no see!” He cheered while grabbing my shoulders to pull me into a hug.I shrugged him off, we’ve been super close since we were toddlers and constantly teased each other, yet were both protective over each other because of our close bond, like a sibling kinda love, “you saw me just a few hours ago, how could you have missed me so much already?” I teased while sliding into the Camaro while Sam did the same, “Hey, Bee hows it going?” Bee responded through the radio in a flirty way, I rolled my eyes, typical Bumblebee.“Hey, Bee what have I told you about flirting with my cousin?” I just barely concealed a giggle.“Why, do you feel left out?” I pouted at him in mock sadness while bee sped off down the street.“No! I just feel uncomfortable hearing you two being all lovie dovie with each other after finding out what you two have been doing together, especially while you were in my garage the other night.” Sam pulled a face. Confused I tried to think of what we’d done that Sam knew about. “I wanted to talk to Bumblebee one night and heard you two together instead.”Suddenly realisation dawned on me, “Oh, OH! Ew Sam! What did you think we were doing?” I hit Sam a few times, Bee seemed to chuckle but did nothing besides that. Sam tried to stammer out his excuses but was just digging himself deeper in the hole he created himself. “Bee and I were having a movie night when he thought it’d be a good idea to start a tickle fight! Seriously, Sam?” I pulled a face and looked away from him and out the window.“Hey! Does taking our relationship further really disgust you that much?” Bee whined through his radio, I gave him a pointed look begging him that we not have this conversation while my cousin was in the car with us.“Not now, Bee.” I simply replied with a smirk lingering on my lips, meanwhile Sam just got more weirded out from our conversation, “Sam just drop it.”“You’re going to sleep with my car! I can’t just drop it - not like I’m saying you can’t sleep with him-it’s just-OK I need to stop thinking about this so much-how would it even work anyway-you know what? I don’t want to know-wait Bee you can ha-”“Okay! That’s enough! Conversation over!"My face felt like it was on fire, "Way to make things awkward Sam.” I giggled a little. The rest of the car ride was filled with the normal conversations we had after a few seconds of awkward silence.Finally, after dropping Sam off at his house, Bee took us to my garage which was big enough for him to transform and not have to hunch over as to not hit his head. I flopped onto the couch that was down there and sighed since this place was where I do any personal work while working at home it became a place where Bee and I hung out often due to the nice and easy atmosphere.“So.” Bee tried to start a conversation, I raised an eyebrow while looking over at him, I hummed to let him know that he had my attention, I rested my arm over my eyes while Bee continued to look at me and sitting on the floor beside me. “Do you want to take our relationship further?” He asked through his radio, doing his best to sound gentle.My heart leapt out my chest at the question, I removed my arm from my face and propped myself up on my elbows, the emotion in his eyes told me everything. He was curious but also tried his best to remain eye contact. “Bee,” I whispered his name tenderly.At my lack of reply, he deflated and looked away from me “nevermind” I sat up fully and called his name to get his attention again.“Hey, I never said no. It’s just, I’ve never gone that far with anyone before.” My voice got less confident and more secretive. “I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever been with before so if I were to go that far with anyone I would love for it to be with you.” I shyly caught his eye and give a timid smile.“I didn’t know. Sorry.” Bee apologised, I told him it was fine while climbing to be level with his face. Catching his optics once more I gave a warm and sincere smile before kissing his cheek tenderly. Bee let out a happy and soft whir while leaning into my touch. “I love you,” Bee whispered with his own very quiet and rough voice that he saved for tender moments like these since it was a struggle for him.“I love you more.”“I don’t think that’s possible.” Bee carefully moved me so I was cuddled into him while we got comfortable.

#bayverse #bumblebee x reader #optimus prime x reader #x reader #transformers x reader #human reader #asks #anonymous #bumblebee #optimus prime

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tfwhynoy · 4 years

Note

Cool beans, sending in an ask! For a continuation of the getaway story, I just want to know what Getaway says at the handoff to sunder, what sunder wants, and does the reader do/say anything about all this? If they even can...

This is a continuation of this and this

Hey so, this is NOT a fun time. Sunder is preforming mnemosurgery (with his needles) on the reader against their will and it’s done in detail. There is no happy ending, no one comes to save the day in the nick of time. If this sounds like something that may trigger anything then I recommend skipping. Viewer discretion is advised.

You had seen that same shade of blue in so many optics, in the optics of so many bots you would call dear friends. You had always considered them the kindest color a bot could possibly have.

Somehow though, Sunder made that same blue threatening and terrifying. His face is so close that you could see your shaking reflection in each optic. He doesn't have eyelids, his optics forever open as wide as possible when they are even in. His mouth is open wide in a smile that stretches past anything that should be possible. He looms over you, completely surrounding you.

Sunder either doesn’t know English or doesn’t care to speak it for you. His cybertronian sounds sharp, it’s spoken in a voice sounds like someone shouting through losing their voice. It crawls across your back and pulls at the hair on your neck. His breath fills your nose, the scent of rust seering into your memory.

He pulls his head back before holding you down with one servo. He’s sickeningly careful, barely putting any pressure on you till you start trying to wiggle away. Sunder’s smile only grew wide in what you could only guess was anticipation.

You could hear them before you saw them. Needles extended from his other servo’s fingertips. They are the only part of Sunder that is clean and shiny. You try to struggle but it never does anything, his hold is too strong. You try to scrunch your neck, raising your shoulders as much as you could.

All it takes is a single digit. Sunder barely even needs to put any pressure on the side of your head, he forces your head to lean to the side. His voice fills your ears, an edge of laughter as you feel the tip of a needle delicately press against the side of your neck.

It feels like a shot at first, a sharp but bearable pain in the side of your neck. The pain increases quickly, exploding across your neck as Sunder presses the needle deeper.

A headache explodes across your head, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears as it feels like something is crushing your eyes. You have a vague sense that Sunder is saying something but he sounds too far away.

You feel something damp on your neck. Numbly you tap at your neck, your whole body feels fuzzy and it’s hard to focus on the red on your fingertips.

Your arm flopped to the side as you laid on cold metal. The ringing in your ears slowly faded as your mind cleared.

Sunder was nowhere in the room.

With a groan you sat up, vision quickly clearing as you checked if you still had full control of your body. Nothing was broken or paralyzed. A quick check and most of what little blood on your neck was thick and on the verge of completely drying out.

Sunder hadn’t left any lasting damage as far as you could tell. The details of how Sunder got ahold of you was a little fuzzy but that was to be expected. You’d have to figure that out later after to the captain whose name escapes you at the moment. Or was it captains? One of their names started with an M you swore it did. Or were you thinking of the second in command? You knew the other captain was for sure a prime. It wasn’t Optimus Prime, you knew that for sure. And you were sent to watch them, though why you needed to watch a prime seemed somewhat baffling.

You shook your head. Of course, this had to happen. Whatever, you had to start with the basic stuff and maybe the rest would follow. You were Liaison of The Lost Light, or was it the Rodpod? It was definitely one of the two. Your name was…

Fuck, what was your name?

#sunder #mtmte #mtmte sunder #reader insert #more than meets the eye #tw needles #ask to tag #needles #I don't know how else to tag so if anyone wants it tagged just ask

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thanksjro · 4 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #11- Soak the Matrix in Lemon Juice and Break Out the Hairdryers

So, small problem.

Prowl realized he was in the wrong comic run and had to split.

But not before yelling at Orion about how stupid he thinks this National Treasure bullshit he’s trying to pull is, and makes a request that Chromedome be left out of this whole mess.

Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell him that?

Bye, Prowl. See you later, I guess.

Chromedome and Roller have brought in some help for the heist from the local college. These students were super gung-ho about stealing the Matrix, not because they’re agents of political chaos, but because the Senator has his name attached to this little project. They feel a certain debt to the Senator, since he’s been doing his best to protect them from the Functionist Council.

Gee, wonder who that truck is.

We get a little rundown of our new friends, while Chromedome has a minor temper tantrum in the background.

Skids is also a member of this group, labelled as a super-learner, enough so that it may not even be a voluntary thing on his part.

In the present day, Swerve’s returned from stealing things from Trailcutter’s room, apparently totally unaware of what’s happened to his roommate. You’d think someone would have gotten in contact with him about that.

I mean, maybe? You did say you liked purple.

Swerve lets it slip that this isn’t the only story time circle Rewind’s hosted in an attempt to get Rung’s brain back up to speed… which makes me wonder just how often the medical staff on board the Lost Light actually check on their patients, if Ratchet had been surprised that this event was happening today.

Swerve makes fun of Tailgate for needing to open up the wiki so he can keep track of what’s going on, then goes over to call Rung the wrong name. Swerve is very lucky Rung is essentially in a coma right now, because that’s probably the only thing keeping him from trying to strangle our resident barkeep.

Whirl helps Rung express himself by playing with his eyebrows, a trait which, now that I think about it, probably only exists for expressive purposes, considering that his eyes are covered by his glasses and we can’t see their shape.

Rewind saves Rung from being played with, perhaps solely because he’s a historical constant.

So you’re saying Rung gets around. Nifty.

Rewind decides that they’ve taken enough of a break and it’s time to get back to the juicy stuff, completely blowing off Ratchet’s professional opinion about what to do with Rung.

Nothing gets in the way of story time.

Nothing.

In the past, Orion Pax is poking Skids in the face, specifically in his mini Matrix tattoo, which is giving him ideas. Skids is a little weirded out, but this isn’t about Skids, now is it? Chromedome goes to pay a visit to a coworker to get things set for the madness that’s about to unfold.

My boy! My beautiful boy!

Yes, Ironfist, before shooting himself in the head and having his spirit broken by the horrors of direct combat, used to be a cop. Everyone’s a cop in IDW, at least for a little while. He’s also missing his faceplate, and isn’t nearly as cute in Milne’s style, but we can’t have it all all the time, now can we?

Chromedome’s feeding into Ironfist’s fanboy nature, pretending to be just as much as a nerd as he is to call in a favor. In exchange for getting Ironfist’s Delta Magnus body pillow back from their boss, Chromedome needs to borrow Ironfist’s one-to-one replica of the Matrix.

I mean, you practically are already, but the sentiment is appreciated. We haven’t gotten to the point where we’re comfortable with thank you kisses yet, and it’ll be a while still.

While the Senator and company gush over Chromedome’s good job, Roller pulls Ratchet and Orion over to the side for a little chat.

Roller doesn’t trust the Senator. He’s done his research, weighed their options, and he really isn’t sure about this guy. Turns out that Orion isn’t the only guy who’s been modified to fit a Matrix without his consent. Honestly, I’m with Roller on this one; that’s mad creepy to be loading the bases like that.

Orion doesn’t really see it that way, though.

Only one of these things was ever a secret, my guy. You worked with Whirl, he was in your precinct for crying out loud! At least he admits to his ignorance.

Back in the present, we check in on Rodimus’ investigation. Looks like we’ve got our answer on who tried to kill Red Alert.

It was Red Alert.

First Aid explains.

Fascinating.

Rodimus fails to see why exactly Red Alert would choose to go this route, because A) he doesn’t know that Red Alert knows about the dirty little secret in the basement, and B) despite probably having depression, may not be the type to have suicidal ideation. It’s true, those types of people exist!

Oh, this is a savior’s complex thing. Nyon really fucked you up, huh Rodimus?

After Ultra Magnus gets Rodimus to stop accosting the doctor, they’re faced with a sort of moral quandary.

IDW’s More Than Meets the Eye! Come for the space adventure, stay for the rumination on whether it’s ethical to allow a mentally ill person the right to self-termination!

After consulting with Drift, because it’s always important to get a second opinion, Rodimus agrees to put Red Alert in cold storage, to remain until their quest is finished and they’re in a place that’s better for his mental health.

Anyway, back to the heist plotline.

Orion breaks down the plan for everybody: the basilica is nearly impossible to break into, but they’re going to do it anyway, because this is the past, and we as the reader already know that things go alright because Chromedome, Ratchet and Skids are still here and Optimus Prime came into being.

Roller will hack the sky spies, make things look all hunky dory, while the rest of the boys magic carpet up to the top of the building.

Looking mighty relaxed there, Glitch.

Glitch is probably sitting down to conserve as much energy as possible, because his job sucks some major chrome- he’s got to keep the detector beams off, using his outlier ability, but it really friggin’ hurts for him to do it. He’s going to have to do it for an extended period of time.

Glitch really got the short end of the stick in all this, didn’t he?

Okay, so I was wrong, Skids uses his grappling hook a fucking shit-ton in MTMTE. Today, he’s going to use it to lower Orion down into the basilica so he can crack open a cold one and steal the Matrix.

Things can never just be simple, can they?

Over on Roller’s end of the workflow, Chromedome’s irritated that he’s got to babysit the Senator. Chromedome spends a good portion of this story arc irritated at stuff, in case you couldn’t tell.

In this case, the Senator agrees that having Chromedome stay back was probably unnecessary. Or at least, he did, until he noticed that the Academy of Advanced Technology is burning to the ground on live TV.

Then the wall explodes.

Things can never just be simple, can they?

Back on the front lines, Orion tags out and Ratchet tags in, because the locks on the Matrix are mad crazy hard to undo and they just don’t have time for pussyfooting around with all that. Ratchet is apparently a master lock pick. Must be those magic medic hands.

Even the Matrix being full of Fiji water is no match for our CMO, as he makes quick work of the bomb and removes it. Hooray! Now we just need to pull him back up and we’ll be all set to leave.

Or at least, we would be, if Glitch wasn’t the dumbest bitch alive.

Ratchet braces for an explosion.

And braces.

But it never comes, because Windcharger has magic arms and zero patience for facing his own mortality.

The boys haul up Ratchet and the bomb, fly on out of there, then Orion jumps off the slab they’re floating on because Roller was supposed to call and he hasn’t. I’m going to hazard a guess and say that Roller might be a bit preoccupied at the moment, and it isn’t by the television.

That is a BIG BOY.

“Cleanse and control” was what Trepan’s idiotic tattoo said, so there’s a good chance that our buddy the Senator is about to go the way of Pious Maximus in a minute. Or at least, he would if Orion Pax didn’t embrace is inner monster truck and punch a hole in the big boy holding the Senator like Lennie does a rabbit.

Kroma isn’t one to let the opposite side have all the cards though, as he holds a gun to Roller’s head and suggests that the Senator be given to him, lest we be down a cop in this story that’s simply awash with them. The Senator, being the nice guy that he is, goes willingly to his doom.

Be a lot easier if we knew your name, bud.

The Senator is taken away, but Kroma leaves Orion with the other big boy, and he’s not playing nicely. Orion helps himself by way of domestic terrorism.

But that’s not the end of the story! Oh dear no!

After the explosion, Orion unearths Chromedome, and they make tracks for the Institute. Small issue with that though:

Well, dang.

Thus ends the tale of the Matrix heist, the mysterious Senator, and Chromedome’s awkward relationship with Prowl. Our storytelling session ends with the sound of the alarm, and everyone runs off to see just what the hell’s gone wrong now. Only Skids hangs back to take Rung to the medibay, but not before trying one last thing to help his partner in vent-crawling out.

Man, all they had to do was annoy him and everything would have been fine? Rewind’s going to feel so silly for all that work he put into this.

Back in the past, Orion’s digging through the remains of the Rodion police station, when a robot comes up to him, saying that they have a mutual friend who asked him to find Orion if he ever went missing.

The mutual friend was the Senator.

And the robot is Zeta, who would become Zeta Prima.

The Senator was really playing the field with all these Matrix reformattings.

Speaking of the Senator, he’s just arrived at a The Institute, where they’ve decided to not only shadowplay him, but also empurata his whole deal just to be assholes. He just wanted to be beautiful, on top of conniving, but I guess we won’t be having any of that anymore. Not that it’ll matter.

Because vanity is illogical.

No wonder Whirl’s so goddamn angry all the time.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #shadowplay #issue 11 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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writing-ro · 5 years

Text

Fictober 19-2: “Just follow me, I know the area.”

@fictober-event // Set in a Fantasy AU where most if not all fantasy creatures exist alongside humans, though the two cultures stay fairly separate, with many humans being afraid or prejudice against creatures.

Rating: G Fandom: Transformers (Bayverse) Characters: Alison Witwicky (OFC), Bumblebee, Additional Tags: raiju!Bumblebee, First Meeting, Rescue Friendship, Google Translate Latin as Fantasy Cybertronian

Alison would not jump. Or scream. Or attract any attention to herself.

Okay, she could admit it was really dumb to just case after the little sprite that had appeared at the edge of the clearing, but she was also blaming Miss Dorothea. If she had been paying attention, she wouldn’t have wandered off.

Well, there was no helping it, she was lost. In a forest populated by creatures. Ones who liked to eat little girls. And on top of that, it looked like it was gonna rain.

No, it’ll be just fine. The elves don’t live that far from town, and they patrol. If she just finds herself a little hollow to hide in until they find her, she’ll be fine. She even had a sharp rock to use for a knife if need be.

This was the brave front she kept up as she walked towards what she thought was a elven trail. And there, a hollow in that tree. Just the perfect size for a little girl… or an arachne’s trap.

She picked up a large rock and threw it as hard as she could into the hollow. And nothing happened. No web trap dropped down, no trapdoor opened. It was as safe as she was gonna get.

A fat raindrop hit the top of her head, and she dashed for the hollow, barely making it inside before the downpour hit. Even through the forest canopy, it was heavy enough to obscure her vision two feet past the opening. Good news, that means the arachne and most other creatures would be seeking their dens and not come out until the weather abated. But it also meant the elves wouldn’t be patrolling.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking her head on them, blinking as her eyes started watering. “It’ll be okay.”

A crack of thunder sounded overhead, and it was the last straw. She buried her head in her arms and started crying. She completely lost track of time in her misery, and even when her tears dried up and she was just hiccuping, she kept her head down.

“What are you doing in there?”

Her head jerked up and her hand went to where she had dropped her rock. But what she saw made her pause in attacking.

It was a boy, maybe a few years older than she was. In one hand, he was a ball of white light that cackled and sparked, and by it she could get a good look at him. His skin was tanned white, not much different from her own, and his eyes were a bright blue, like the crystals her mother and some of the other women of the village wore. He was wearing a yellow sleeveless shirt under a dark grey cloak, the hood drawn up over his blond curls, black pants, and black sandals, which was odd to wear in the rain. Around his neck was a blue crystal pendant, while on his arms were bands of what looked like gold with black and blue gems set in them, and a long yellow ribbon was wrapped through them and around his arms and back. She had never seen such bands in person before, but she remembered her lessons. Only a couple species of creature wore bands like that, and only one would be out in a storm like this, or could make a light like his.

The raiju tilted his head. “Hey, can you speak?”

Alison pouted despite herself. “Of course I can speak. I’m not dumb”

“Hey, you didn’t say anything, I had to ask.” He knelt on the ground in front of the hollow. “So, what’s a little human girl doing out here?”

Alison’s lip quivered, but she did her best to not show it. “I-I got lost. I was chasing a sprite, and got all turned around. I was waiting for an elf patrol, then the storm started. Is that your fault?”

“Hey, don’t blame me. I just ride the storm, I don’t make it.” He thought for a moment. “Is your village the one north of the wood? Tranquility?” Alison nodded, and the raiju smiled. “Well great. I was heading that way, I can take you home.”

Alison wanted to agree right away, but the suspicion she had been taught since birth reared its head. “Wh-what would you want in exchange?”

“Nothing. Why would I want anything just for taking you home.”

“All creatures want something.”

“Well yeah, but don’t all people want something too?”

She hadn’t considered that before, and she really wanted to go home. Besides, he was a kid, like her. If she needed to, she could fight him.

She nodded. “Okay.” She shifted to her knees and started crawling out of the hollow. When she didn’t feel any rain on her falling on her, she looked up and saw the raiju holding his cloak over her.

“Come here, tuck yourself close to me.” He closed his other hand and the lighting ball snuffed out with a flash. “It’ll be easier and faster if I carry you, plus you’ll stay drier.”

Alison nodded and sidled up to him. He was warm, and only leaning against him did she realize how cold she had been. She pressed herself closer to get more of that warmth. He dropped the edge of the cloak over her head, then slipped his arms behind her back and under her knees. He lifted her with ease as he stood, and the cloak settled over them both, with only a thin gap open that allowed her to look up at the raiju’s face and a sliver of the landscape ahead of them.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said.

“I couldn’t do anything less. He looked down at her. “Oh, I forgot to ask; what’s your name? Mine’s Bumblebee.”

“Alison.”

“Alison. That’s pretty.” The ribbon around his arms started to glow, and he smiled at her. “Now, hold on tight.” And a moment later, he pushed off the ground and suddenly they were in the treetops. Alison gasped and grabbed his shirt, her eyes flickering between the passing landscape and down at Bumblebee’s feet, where little flashes of light appeared every time his feet made contact with a branch, small cracks playing counterpoint to the rumbles and flashes over their heads. The stories said that when the raiju ran during, the energy of their lighting left their mark. Sometimes whole trees would explode because a raiju lighted on them for a moment. Maybe it was his age, or he was just being careful, but she thought Bumblebee’s marks were just leaving scorches.

Bumblebee. She knew a raiju’s name. Not only that, but he was helping her, with no expectation of recompense. Miles would never believe her when she told him about this. No one would. What if they thought Bumblebee was trying to kidnap her. Her hands tightened their grip on his shirt at the thought. She didn’t want anything to happen to him because of her, when he was so nice.

Almost before she knew it, they were on the edge of the forest, with the road and farmers’ fields laid out before them, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning, though not very well. The rain was even harder out here than under the trees, but Alison’s worry was stronger than her desire to not get wet. “Maybe you should just drop me off here,” she suggested. “I can get back to the village from here.”

“You can barely see in this rain,” Bumblebee said, jumping down to the road. “I’m taking you to the village gates.” He glanced down at her. “Are you worried about my safety?”

Alison pouted. “Maybe. You’re so nice, I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

Bumblebee laughed. “Don’t worry, I have something that will put them at ease. Just hold on, I’m gonna pick up speed.” He barely said that that he did, pushing off the ground so fast it was all she could to not let out a startled scream. He bounded down the road and occasionally off of fence posts and barrier walls, each jump accompanied by flashes and cracks larger than he’d made in the forest.

Finally, they got close enough to see the lanterns hanging over the gates, and the gatekeeper apparently saw and heard them too, as the gates were opened and a group of militia stepped out, hands on their swords, though they hadn’t drawn then when Bumblebee stopped several yards away from them.

“State your business, raiju!” the leader had to shout to be heard, and Alison recognized his voice as Ser Burns, captain of the militia.

She was about to call back when Bumblebee set her on her feet, untying his cloak before retying it around her own shoulders. It was just the slightest bit too long, and dragged on the ground, but she was completely dry underneath it. Once it was settled to his satisfaction, he looked to the militia and spoke in the language of Primus. “Et veniet in pace, sub lege primus et primorum.” To her continued surprise, his crystal necklace started glowing a bright blue, and a wave of relief went through her when she figured out what it was. It was a energon shard, the symbol of King Optimus Prime of the Seraphim. Only the good intentioned and pure hearted served in the Prime’s court, so even the most suspicious villager would at least listen to what he said before attacking.

And Ser Burns recognized it to, as his hand left his sword and he called “Approach and state your business.”

Bumblebee smiled and took her hand, creating a lighting ball in the other for illumination before walking with her to the gate. “I found Alison here lost in the woods and decided to escort her home.”

“Alison!” the rearmost militiaman raced forward and Alison recognized it as her father, Ron, right before he caught her up in a tight hug. “Oh sweet pea, we were so worried.”

Alison couldn’t stop the tears that welled up as she hugged her father back. “I’m sorry, Papa. I saw a sprite, and no one was watching, so I chased it and it went so far and I got lost. I didn’t even catch it so I couldn’t get it to show me home. Then Bumblebee showed up and helped me.”

Ron looked to Bumblebee. “Thank you, for bringing my daughter home. Whatever you wish in gratitude, I will gladly give.”

Bumblebee shook his head. “I need to reward for doing the right thing. I’m just glad I found her before something else did.” He bowed to Ser Burns. “I’ll take my leave now. There’s a storm that needs riding.” He started to turn to leave.

“Wait!” Alison wiggled out of her father’s grip and ran to Bumblebee, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

Bumblebee smiled and hugged her back. “You’re very welcome, Alison.” When Alison stepped back, her hands went to the ties of the cloak, but he pulled them away. “Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

Alison nodded, then said in a quiet voice for only him to hear. “Come to the Tribute Festival, and I’ll have something special for you. And don’t say no. If I want to give you something, I will.”

Bumblebee gave a small laugh and nodded. “Okay. I promise, I’ll come.” He let go of her hands and bowed again. “Farewell, Alison of Tranquility.”

Alison curtsied in return. “Farewell, Bumblebee of the Prime’s Court.”

Bumblebee gave one last grin, then took off down the road. His ribbon and bands glowed as he bounded once, twice, then on the third, he took off to the sky, little flashes of lighting showing where he ascended into the clouds.

Alison watched until she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Ron standing behind her. “Come on, sweet pea. Your mother is worried sick, and she’ll only become more so if we get sick from being in this rain.”

She nodded. “Okay, Papa.” But even as she took his hand to walk back into the village, she couldn’t help one last look at the clouds. She would not realize it for many years, but something very special had started that night, when a raiju and a human became friends.

#fictober #fandom: transformers #fictober19 #Fictober Fantasy AU #oc: Alison Witwicky #char: Bumblebee

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ckret2 · 6 years

Text

The Dead Unsung Heroes Club

Pairing: Starscream/Wheeljack Wordcount: 13800 Notes: This is my gift fic this year for @secretsolenoid, for Ray! The request that I was writing: IDW RiD/TAAO: Starscream/Wheeljack, Prompt: bonding over doing something science-y.

Summary: One moment, Wheeljack is dead. The next he's on the inside of a dark bubble-shaped planet listening as Starscream explains that Unicron was defeated, they're somewhere midway between life and death, and Starscream hauled Wheeljack there because he needs an engineer's help upgrading some busted Unicron parts into a machine that will let Starscream get back to the living world. But the longer Wheeljack helps Starscream, and the more he talks with the other mechs scattered through limbo with them, the more certain he is that Starscream is keeping secrets from Wheeljack about the purpose of this project—first and foremost that his motives aren't nearly as selfish as he's led Wheeljack to believe.

The afterlife wasn't something Wheeljack had spent a lot of time thinking about, but he supposed that if he were to guess what it would be like, he wouldn't have guessed this. The Afterspark, if that was what it was, was a tiny pinprick of light, so impossibly small, so impossibly far away and yet so close it might have been within him. In a way, it reminded him of... but no, he supposed there was really nothing he could compare it to.

It was so small. How was he supposed to fit into it? But then the more he stared at it, the more he realized how dazzling the tiny light was. Maybe it wasn't small; maybe Wheeljack was the small one, closed up so tight he could only get a glimpse at the light. Maybe if he opened up... unraveled... piece by piece, let himself dissolve and drift away... and the more he stretched out, the more he dissipated, the more he left behind who he had once been, the brighter the light got, until...

Just before he dissolved into nothing, something behind him reached out and grabbed a hand he didn't remember he had, and said a name he'd almost forgotten. And then he was pulled backwards into the dark.

The next thing he knew was Starscream.

"That was a close one. We almost lost you," Starscream said, a little too close to Wheeljack and smiling like he meant it. "A few more minutes—or whatever passes for minutes around here, I don't know—and you would have been gone for good. You're welcome."

Wheeljack was getting a little too used to waking up from certain death, disoriented and confused, to be greeted by an overexcited Starscream in a new body. "You're blue."

Starscream beamed. "More blue, yes."

"And... curvy? Your optics are magenta." Nobody had magenta optics.

Starscream was practically preening under the factual analysis of his new frame—thrusters humming, wings tilting. "Do you like it?"

Wheeljack shrugged vaguely. "I thought you looked nice in red."

Starscream immediately scowled. "Excuse me. This is my body. My true body! It's how I'm supposed to look."

"Oh," Wheeljack said, completely uncomprehending. "Okay."

He was, he realized, splayed on the ground; he very carefully sat up and looked around. "... Hold on. It's... is this the... that city in the center of Cybertron?"

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Starscream scanned the empty organic city and blank black sky with obvious disdain. "It's a pity, but we can rip out the trees."

"What's... where are... Where's Unicron?"

"Primus. I expect he's off cuddling with Optimus somewhere."

Wheeljack gave Starscream a blank look. He was still too dazed to be shocked.

Starscream shrugged. "Yeah. I know."

"What about Elonia?"

"Saved! The population, anyway." Starscream clapped a hand on Wheeljack's shoulder, beaming, and Wheeljack jolted as his fuzzy thoughts jerked back into focus around the point where Starscream was touching him. "You did great work. You rescued everyone except yourself. I don't think anyone's bothered to recognize your sacrifice besides me, though. But hey, welcome to the unsung heroes club. We don't do it for the glory, right?" Starscream, who could probably count on one hand the number of things he hadn't done for glory, gave Wheeljack a rakish and thoroughly convincing smile. He tried to stand back up, but Wheeljack clapped a hand over Starscream's to keep it in place; so, after a moment of hesitation, Starscream knelt down next to Wheeljack.

His thoughts were coming back into focus now, and working at double time trying to piece together what had happened since Elonia. "Hold on—'except myself'? What's going on? Where's the sky? Where are the other people? Why is—no, how—no, why is Optimus cuddling Unicron? What do you mean, 'unsung heroes'? Did..." He looked at Starscream, somewhere between nervous and horrified. "Are we dead?"

Starscream didn't look back at him. "Wwwellll..." He raised his shoulders, grimacing uncertainly. "Define 'dead.'"

Wheeljack slid out from under Starscream's hand, flopped on his back, and stared at the blank sky.

"Welcome to infraspace."

Wheeljack made a strangled noise.

Starscream left Wheeljack alone for a bit to adjust.

Well. "Alone." He spent about half an hour doing aerial acrobatics through the empty sky directly above Wheeljack. Wheeljack kind of thought Starscream was trying to sell him on the new body. Wheeljack kind of thought the look was a little "Thundercracker develops Primus apotheosis," but it was growing on him.

Once he'd recovered sufficiently, Starscream filled him in.

Unicron was dead, but so was Cybertron and every one of its colonies except Earth. They'd all evacuated from one planet to another and most people had made it. Some had died. Most didn't! But a whole lot of stars were eaten. Starscream hadn't heard about how the rest of the galaxy was faring yet.

Anyone who'd died in direct contact with the Talisman's energy had ended up here, in infraspace, the Afterspark's waiting room. Starscream was here, of course—died activating the Talisman to burrow its way into Unicron, as he explained to Wheeljack in excessive detail, and of course Optimus was the only one getting recognition. Blurr was here, another member of Starscream's "unsung heroes" club. Kup was around somewhere, he liked to tell everyone tales about how this place was just like the Dead Universe but not as bad, and what's his name that guy with six modes—anyway, a load of Autobots, so they and Starscream politely tolerated each other. Optimus was shacking up with the organic that made/was Unicron and wanted to be left alone, and Starscream, for one, was more than happy to respect his wishes. Sometimes Shockwave ducked in for a few minutes, but they threw stuff at him and shouted insults until he stopped astral projecting from Prowl's prison ship.

And then Wheeljack had to lay down and stare at the sky again.

"So," Wheeljack asked, "How do—how do you know what's going on back in—what's the opposite of infraspace? Ultraspace?"

"We've just been calling it 'the real world,'" Starscream said. "Wouldn't ultraspace be..." he made a gesture like something leapfrogging over an item, "beyond normal space?"

"Oh. I guess so." Wheeljack shrugged.

They were sitting on the rim of a nonfunctional stone fountain. It was a little low for comfort, but it was nearby and there weren't exactly Cybertronian-scale benches around here. Starscream kept switching between crossing his legs and pulling his knees halfway to his chest; Wheeljack's legs were stretched out in front of him.

"Okay, how do you know what's going on in the real world, then? You haven't been getting news from Shockwave, have you?"

Starscream scoffed. "Please! As if I'd accept anything from that one-eyed, two-faced spawn of a glitch—even information. In fact, I'd go so far as to say especially information."

That was a bit more emphatic than Wheeljack had expected. Sneering disdain, sure—but not that scowl, not that venom. "Something happen?"

Besides the ores, the time travel, the attempt to destroy the universe, the weird manipulative mind game he'd played with their entire species, and the fact that he'd spent like three fourths of recorded Cybertronian history pretending to be a horse. Starscream wasn't bothered by what people did to other people. Despite what most believed about Starscream, Wheeljack didn't doubt that Starscream did have a strong sense of right and wrong; it was just that, for him, most of the time, right and wrong were merely an intellectual exercise. He wouldn't start burning in rage over what Shockwave had done—even if Cybertron, or the galaxy, or the entire universe should fall—until and unless it affected Starscream personally.

And Starscream evidently understood that was what Wheeljack was going for, because he didn't waste time reminding him of Shockwave's many reprehensible crimes. He snorted. "It's a long story and I'm not going to tell it. Let's just say Shockwave is the pettiest mech I've ever met in my life—and I'm including myself on that list—and that my last couple of days were pretty bad for my ego, and leave it at that."

Well, that could cover just about anything. "Does your ego have very many good days?" He said it wryly, but part of him genuinely wondered—and worried.

Sure, Starscream was far from the best bot to ever peel himself out of the ground (or, no, come off the assembly line, hadn't he?) but he wasn't completely without virtues. He was brilliant, he was cunning—those were two different things—he had a wit as sharp and precise as a scalpel, and he was a machiavellian mastermind in a way that was a wonder to behold when it was turned toward more noble end goals, even if "noble" wasn't anywhere among Starscream's intentions. All of his virtues had a faint miasma of ill intent around them, sure—but they were there, and they were undeniable. Wheeljack wondered how many people actually bothered to acknowledge that. It didn't seem like nearly enough.

Starscream replied to Wheeljack's question with an equally wry smile. "Well, I realize you were having a pretty bad day at the time and probably don't remember, but I was elected supreme leader of Cybertron this one time. That day was pretty good for my ego."

Wheeljack laughed. "Right! Of course."

"And I made it to precinct senator once," Starscream said. “That wasn't a half bad day. Oh, and I was made second-in-command of an army. Perhaps you hadn't heard of that? I think you may have been on the other side."

"Okay, okay, you've made your point."

Wheeljack was just beginning to wonder whether Starscream had ever felt validated on any days other than ones where he'd just been handed some massive promotion and an equally massive amount of power, when suddenly Starscream glanced away, his smirk slipping down to a smile that was a little smaller and a little more genuine, and said, "Chosen One Day wasn't bad either."

Really? It ranked right up there with being declared supreme ruler of the planet? "Well—"

"And your little speech."

Wheeljack shrugged, suddenly self-conscious under the way Starscream was glancing sideways at him. "Oh. Well, uh." He shrugged again. "It—wasn't a bad holiday. So. Good going on that." He reset his vocalizer noisily. "Anyway, you still haven't answered my question."

"Which question?"

"About—about the real world. Living world. About how you know what's going on out there."

"Oh, that!" Starscream's optics lit up, and he leaned closer toward Wheeljack, grinning conspiratorially. It was a look that Wheeljack had only seen him make a couple of times before—even with a new faceplate and paint, it looked the same—and it always showed up immediately preceding Starscream asking Wheeljack to do something outrageous, dangerous, and miraculous. He was wary of the smile.

But he always did what Starscream asked when he made it, so, what did it say about him?

"Can you keep a secret?"

Wheeljack hesitated. "... From?"

"From—the others." Starscream gestured vaguely around. "You know. Them."

"The other Autobots?"

"Yes, them."

"You're, uh, doing things that the Autobots wouldn't approve of," Wheeljack said, "and you think I—a whole Autobot—am gonna be okay with it?"

Starscream scoffed. "You're sixty percent Autobot at most." Wheeljack didn't have time to work out whether Starscream meant that as a compliment or an insult, much less which way he personally was going to take it, before Starscream went on, “Anyway, it's not that they wouldn't approve. They'd want in on it. They'd want Optimus in on it. And I'd rather he not. Call me selfish, but I'd rather keep this one little project to myself."

"Why don't you want Optimus in on it?"

"When you see, you'll know."

"And I don't get to see until I've already promised not to tell, right?"

Starscream smirked.

Wheeljack sighed. "Well, with terms like that, how can I refuse?" He knew he'd regret it just a little bit more if he didn't go than if he did.

"I knew you'd see it my way." Starscream slung an arm around Wheeljack's shoulders, and he tried not to focus on the weight of it, the warmth of him. For the first time, Wheeljack really realized just how cold this place, this strange demilitarized zone between life and death, really was. No—not cold, exactly. Devoid of warmth. Temperatureless, somehow. All except for Starscream.

Wheeljack really wasn't doing a very good job of ignoring Starscream's arm.

"Come on!" And now Starscream had his hand on Wheeljack's shoulder, squeezing, and it was going to be a miracle if he could think of anything else ever again. "Let's get going. You're going to absolutely love this."

Prowl had found out, and Jetfire had confirmed, that Unicron was sucking energy from the cores of distant stars in order to power itself. Half of the machinery that allowed this feat had been located somewhere inside Unicron itself; the other half had been located in the black hole at its heart, deep inside infraspace. Which meant, somehow, the machinery could reach out from infraspace to the real world. And if it could, maybe it could be used to help someone else in infraspace reach the real world.

Well. No "maybe" about it. It could. And Starscream had. Not quite corporeally—he'd gone as not much more than a specter, and thus far had only managed to make contact with Bumblebee, Starscream suspected it was because he'd also spent a fair amount of time in infraspace—but he'd gone. It had only worked a couple of times, though, and then stopped; now Starscream needed Wheeljack's help to get it working for good.

Wheeljack had spent too much of the past few hours feeling flabbergasted for this new revelation to blow him away. ("Hours"? Were hours still a thing here? Wheeljack wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but his fuel levels hadn't fluctuated, nor his energy levels. It felt like his body was in limbo, ever-unchanging.) So he immediately got to work examining the machinery.

It was located inside a misshapen facility, lit by only a few large high windows and sparse lighting that Starscream thought must be powered by this “magic” thing they’d all heard so much about lately, because it sure wasn’t electricity. The interior, alien though it clearly was, looked like a cobbled-together mix between a boiler room and a factory floor.

Much of the machinery had been very clearly—not shut down, because it didn't appear capable of being shut down, designed to run forever without end—but disabled, panels removed and wires expertly snipped, components and cogs neatly removed. Starscream took credit for that—"I think they were still sucking up stars—just slower—so I shut those parts of it down,"—and not for the first time, Wheeljack was struck by the way that, if Starscream didn't have anything immediately self-serving he needed to do, the next thing he defaulted to doing was almost always the right thing. And again not for the first time, Wheeljack wondered what kind of an amazing person Starscream might have been if he wasn't so frantically trying to convince everyone around him that he was amazing. He'd wasted his life on a con telling lies about himself that would have all been true if he hadn't instead wasted his life on the con.

And sometimes Wheeljack ached to think of it. He'd ached whenever he watched Starscream put on that self-assured, self-deprecating smirk he wore when he wanted everyone to know he'd done something secret that they'd hate him for if they knew, and he'd ached when he'd watched Starscream stand before the whole world and politely confess to every crime he'd committed while wearing the crown, and he'd ached when he heard the previously-penitent Starscream had escaped in the wake of "Onyx Prime's" jarring arrival and was running riot with the Decepticons.

And he ached now, hearing Starscream explain how he'd saved all the stars in all the galaxy from slowly suffocating, with a wirecutter here and a ratchet there—how he'd saved the entire galaxy, not for laudation, but simply because it needed to be done and Starscream was here and could do it.

One mechanism controlled the flow of energy back and forth from real world Unicron to infraspace Unicron, and that was where they were focused now. It was a particularly tall, roughly cylindrical machine standing by itself in a circular room with a couple of high windows that didn’t so much bring in light as suggest that light was invited in if any happened to be in the vicinity and wanted to drop by. Instead, the room was brightly illuminated by a plethora of glowing orbs that liked to hover a few inches over whatever surface they’d been set on, and that Starscream advised Wheeljack not to touch with his bare hands. He’d scavenged them from New Prysmos.

“It's really quite simple for anyone who knows a bit of rudimentary mechanical engineering," Starscream explained, one side of the machine peeled open so he could lean in with a flashlight and explain which Cybertronian parts were equivalent to these alien components. Every once in a while he would stammer over a name, call it a "doohickey" or "the fast zappy bit, you know," and Wheeljack would supply the real term, surprised and pleased that Starscream knew what they were for and how they worked, even if he didn't know all the right terms. "Just about any species that's invented faster-than-light travel could have made a thingy like this to instantaneously transfer energy across vast spaces—"

"An energy ansible," Wheeljack said.

"I thought 'ansible' was only for faster-than-light communication devices?"

"Sure, unless you put the word 'energy' in front of it. Then it communicates energy instead of messages."

Starscream straightened up to give Wheeljack a skeptical look, then shrugged and leaned back into the energy ansible. "I mean, hell, Megatron's gun has something like this in it; this isn't revolutionary tech. The only unusual thing about this thingy is that one half is in the real world and the other half is in infraspace. I still don't know how they accomplished that."

"It'd probably take, oh, a week or two to figure this thing out," Wheeljack said, trying to lean in around Starscream to examine the alien tech. "So I'll have it in a day."

"I love it when you do that."

Wheeljack's spark spun. "What?"

"What?" Starscream quickly straightened up and held the flashlight out to Wheeljack. "I should hope you can figure it out. That's why I hauled you back from the afterlife."

Wheeljack's spark was still a few RPM too high—he could feel it like static humming through his wires—but he took the flashlight and tried to act as much like nothing happened as Starscream clearly thought there had. "No surprises there," he mumbled, trying and failing to focus on the wires in front of him. And then he registered what Starscream said. "Wait, back from the afterlife?"

"Yes?"

"Not infraspace? The—the afterlife afterlife? Like, as in the Afterspark?"

"Yes?"

"Not—I wasn't here?"

"No? You don't remember me hauling you back?"

Wheeljack tried to think. Between Elonia and waking up with Starscream over him, it was all a murky black smear and an indistinct white light. "No. Why didn't I wake up here? You said anyone who'd interacted with the Talisman ended up here, right?"

"Interacted directly with it, while they were dying."

Wheeljack was staring at Starscream now. "You pulled me back from the afterlife?"

"Ah..." Starscream averted his gaze, staring at the same bunch of wires Wheeljack had unsuccessfully tried to focus on a moment ago. "Well, I needed the help of an actual proper engineer, but—obviously—needed a dead one, and you were dead but still only on the threshold of the Afterspark instead of actually in it, so..." They sounded like excuses instead of explanations. They sounded like that thing Starscream did where he justified his altruism by pointedly providing selfish motives.

"How did you get to the afterlife and back?"

"See that?" Starscream leaned back into the energy ansible and pointed up.

Wheeljack aimed the flashlight at a translucent, glasslike cylinder, with a plus and a minus recently scrawled onto each end of it. "Uh-huh?"

"I reversed the polarity."

"That's it?!"

"Yep."

Wheeljack grabbed the energy ansible's casing and laughed so hard he couldn't stand up straight.

"You can see why I don't want the other Autobots to find out about this, right?"

Wheeljack thought he could see, but stayed quiet for a moment. He wanted to hear Starscream's explanation.

If you walked through infraspace long enough, you found that it curled upward, like a bowl. Keep walking, and you found yourself back where you started. The surface of infraspace was like the inside of a bubble, and the sky hung heavy and black in the middle. The engine that sucked life from the stars was a building-sized tumor of misshapen components embedded in the bubble, with a warped umbilical cord that stretched up from its roof into the sky. From their vantage point, sitting on top of the roof, they could see the cords of another four or five sites of Unicron parts stretching into the black.

Far away and left of New Prysmos, so far that the sky's cloudy darkness almost obscured it, was a tiny facility that would have been unnoticeable from this distance if not for the severed umbilical cord that lay in a loose coil around it. Starscream stared at it as he spoke.

"Right now, Optimus is content with his undead retirement," Starscream said. "But he's got an ugly little tendency to come back from retirement the instant people start to say his name with nostalgia instead of scorn. Whenever he does, he takes charge, does something crazy, makes things a million times worse, and then gets people pontificating and debating about the moral ramifications instead of stopping him like they know they should."

"I think you're a little biased," Wheeljack said, uncomfortably—uncomfortable because he could say that Starscream was biased but wasn't sure he could say he was wrong.

"Am I? What do you think about his little conquest of Earth?"

"Well—I mean—" He stammered for a moment, trying to put a couple years' worth of hopelessly tangled opinions in order. "It's—it's a complicated—it brings Earth into the international community, which can only be good for it, especially since they're already dealing with other alien threats like the Dire Wraiths—"

"You're pontificating," Starscream said, "on the moral ramifications.”

Which he was, and knew he was. He fell silent.

"And you didn't deny that it was a conquest."

Wheeljack could have argued that he'd thought the exact terminology being used was less important than the question being asked, but that would be dodging the truth and they both knew it. "I didn't," he said, defeated. "It was a conquest."

"And usually you Autobots are all about overthrowing conquerors, aren't you? But what did you—you, Wheeljack, what did you do when the conqueror was Optimus? What did all of you do, you collective Autobots and Prime-worshipers? It's wrong, it's unacceptable, it's worth fighting a war over—until he does it, huh?"

Wheeljack grumbled, but he supposed he couldn't really argue with that. Every time he thought about Cybertron taking over Earth, something inside him twisted and squirmed with guilt. And when a defeated voice in his head said there's nothing I could have done, an angry voice answered that doesn't mean you had to collaborate.

He'd collaborated with Starscream, too. What was the difference?

Starscream stood, balancing on the edge of the roof, his pedes half hanging over the edge—was that a flier thing? Brainstorm did that too, and it made Wheeljack just as nervous—and planted his hands on his hips. "Smarter defectors than me have said that the day the Decepticons went off the rails was the day that the Cause became conflated with Megatron himself. Maybe the Autobots should've taken that as a cautionary tale."

All right, comparisons to Megatron were too far. Wheeljack elbowed Starscream's shin. "You were saying about not telling anybody about this."

Starscream kicked Wheeljack's thigh. "If the Autobots here know that there's a way out of infraspace, the next time there's an emergency, the first thing they're gonna do is bust down the door to Optimus's love shack and tell him he needs to go save the universe again. And then he's running wild again, with even fewer checks on him because now everyone loves him for martyring himself for the umpteenth time to stop Unicron.”

"Do they?" Wheeljack asked. "All love him, I mean? You've been out there."

"Of course they do. Nobody says anything bad about the guy who died saving the galaxy."

"What about you?"

It was the wrong question to ask. Starscream winced and mumbled, "Not saying anything counts as not saying anything bad, I guess." For Starscream, Wheeljack expected, even the worst sort of infamy would have been better than being forgotten.

Dryly, Wheeljack said, "Comes with membership in the unsung heroes club, right?"

Starscream laughed bitterly. "Anyway. You get it, right? Why I don't want them to know?"

Wheeljack considered what it would be like for Optimus to come back to life again. Sure, he'd deal with the crisis of the day—he always did—but the decisions he made when the crisis was over, when they were at peace, when everyone (hell, including Wheeljack himself) did everything he asked no matter what they thought or how they felt about it... Cybertron didn't need any more de facto dictators, even benevolent ones; and no matter what Optimus or anyone else intended, that would be what he'd become if he went back. And he would go back, if for a second he thought he was needed and knew it was possible. And if he didn't think he was needed, the others—Kup, Blurr—might persuade him otherwise. "You're right. I won't tell."

Starscream smiled down at Wheeljack, and the fact that he was smiling made Wheeljack immediately second-guess his decision, even as his spark spun a little faster again. "I knew I could trust you."

And he said it like he meant it.

"I don't know how you managed to get this working the first time. All by yourself?"

"What, do you think I had help? Me? From who?"

Wheeljack was examining some components high on the side of the energy ansible, the part designed to actually store energy. "This thing is designed to only work one way. It takes energy in; it doesn't push it back out. But you were able to get it to go the other way?"

Wheeljack was balanced on top of a stack of tables—they couldn't find a ladder—and leaning inside the energy ansible. From here, he couldn't see Starscream, but he could hear him pacing around at the base of the machine. "Yeah. Can't you make it go the other way?"

"Well, yes—"

"Then great. No problem."

"But how did you do it?"

Starscream was silent a moment, just long enough that Wheeljack knew he had to be deciding whether to tell the truth or make up an answer. "Decepticon secret." Okay, that sounded like the truth.

"And do I get to learn the...?"

"Oh, not a chance. It's not going to work again, anyway. It's all on you now."

"It might help me figure it out faster if you—"

"Nope."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Wheeljack decided he could believe Starscream on that. "Anyway, it shouldn't be that difficult to make a new way to reverse the flow. It'll be hard, but pretty easy."

He heard Starscream stop pacing. "You wanna try that again?"

"Uh... Labor-intensive, but simple."

"Oh! Sure." The tables shifted slightly under Wheeljack's pedes as Starscream climbed up them. "So, already figured out what we need to do?"

"'We'? You're actually helping, not just supervising?"

"Sure! If there's room for me to. I'm not going to get in your way." Starscream's voice got steadily closer, until he was standing on the same table as Wheeljack, one forearm resting on the open casing of the energy ansible and the other resting on Wheeljack's shoulder. He was, Wheeljack noted, a lot more touchy-feely in death than he'd been in life. He wondered if it was because of the new body. Or maybe—Wheeljack had to wonder, darkly—maybe it was because nobody could hurt the dead.

In any case, he wasn't complaining. Touching was—nice, touching was fine. (He felt a little less oppressively neutral and a little more alive, where Starscream touched him.) He was just curious.

"But if I can help..."

"Definitely," Wheeljack said. "What kind of engineering experience do you have?"

"Maintenance skills. And soldering, welding, so on. I liked to get hands-on with our super weapons."

Wheeljack brightened. "Yeah? Me too." Of course, Wheeljack mainly got hands-on with the ones he'd designed himself, but it was still nice to hear. "How are you with chemistry?"

"Eh." He wiggled his hand in a so-so gesture. "I can make bombs out of bird crap."

Wheeljack was dying to ask when that had ever been relevant to Starscream's life. "Think you can identify some piezoelectric ignition sources in the wreck of New Prysmos?"

"Tell you what: I'll bring you anything I can find that sets fires, and you tell me if it's piezoelectric or..."

Wheeljack hadn't noticed that his own arm had been snaking around Starscream's back until the instant his fingertips brushed Starscream's waist and Starscream fell silent. It had felt like the right thing to do—why had it felt right?—because Starscream's arm was on Wheeljack, and—balance, and— But now Starscream was silent, his optics wide in shock, his wings raised, every piston and pulley in his body frozen.

"Sorry." Wheeljack pulled his hand back.

And the second he did, Starscream darted away from him. "Piezoelectric!" (For a moment, Wheeljack couldn't recall what Starscream was talking about.) "New Prysmos! Got it!" His voice was a shade shriller than usual, and definitely louder. He climbed down the tower of tables so fast that Wheeljack had to grab onto the open casing of the energy ansible for balance. (What happened, he wondered, if you got injured in infraspace?)

Right—right! Piezoelectric! "Hey!" Wheeljack leaned around the energy ansible. "If you don't find anything in a couple of hours, come back here. I'll probably have a list of other things for you to forage for by then."

Starscream stopped, perched on a windowsill high above the ground—Wheeljack supposed that was an easier exit for a flier than the door, huh—and turned back to look at Wheeljack. He had a wild, frightened, frantically happy look on his face. his smile shaky and wide and crooked.

"Chronometers don't work right in here," Starscream said, "but I'll guesstimate it the best I can." With that, he rolled backwards out of the window. Wheeljack heard him transform, and out the window he could see Starscream do barrel roll while heading toward New Prysmos. Like a five-day-old MTO, showing off that he was finally steady on his new wings.

Wheeljack watched until he was long gone. Then forced his attention back into the guts of the energy ansible.

His fingertips blazed where they'd touched Starscream's waist.

Wheeljack was wondering, for the dozenth time, just how Starscream had gotten this thing to work the first time, when he heard the sound of an approaching jet through the window. He stopped his work, wiped off on some kind of weird sleeveless robe he'd found in a closet and been using to clean grease off his hands, and carefully climbed down the tables just in time for Starscream to transform and land. "How goes the hunt?"

"You tell me." Starscream popped open his cockpit, and a pile of miscellaneous objects tumbled into his hands. "Everything I could find that starts fires, just like I promised."

Wheeljack peered over the objects. "Is—that a piece of charcoal?"

Starscream held his hands out so Wheeljack could better inspect it. "Looks like it."

"I said piezoelectric."

"Yes. You did. I'm not actually entirely sure what that means."

Wheeljack gave Starscream an exasperated look. Starscream shrugged. "The molecules flex when you electrify the object or something, right? I didn't exactly come in here with a taser and a microscope. Anything else look good?"

"Wel—" Wheeljack stopped. And stared at Starscream. "... Weren't you blue?"

"Oh!" Starscream was definitely not blue now. He was, in fact, quite red. "Yeah, thought I'd, uh—what do you think?" He smiled winningly.

What did he think? What did it matter what he— "What happened to blue? I thought that was your—you said it was your final form or something?"

"My true body," Starscream corrected. "And—yes, but—the paint job doesn't make a big difference, does it? It's still the same body. What do you think? An improvement?"

"Uh..." Wheeljack shrugged, baffled. "I don't—I don't know. I was still getting used to the blue." Starscream's smile faltered. "Where did you even— Who brought red paint in here? When did you have time to repaint? How long were you gone?" It didn't feel like that long. A proper repaint took, what, probably half a day? If you didn't want to get sloppy, and Starscream's was definitely not sloppy. It hadn't been half a day. Had it? Wheeljack hadn't been working half a day. Had he?

"Not however long you thought I was." Starscream dumped his findings on the table. "Anyway, does any of this work."

He'd brought back some flint, a couple of damaged lanterns that appeared to turn on by magic—a wonder that they still worked—a wood torch, and several small canisters of different types of fuel, including—"Where did you get this?" "Blurr had it with him, talked him out of it,"—a single, solitary can of engex. None of it what Wheeljack needed, but not bad to have around. Especially that can of engex.

"We'll split it," Starscream said, "when we finish upgrading this thing."

"We should give it back to Blurr," Wheeljack said.

Starscream shrugged. "Hey, if you don't want the only can of engex in infraspace, it's no paint off my back."

"I'll look for a piezoelectric ignition source," Wheeljack said. "And, in return, you get a scavenger hunt."

"Ooh, fun."

Wheeljack held out a datapad with a list of materials he needed to convert the energy ansible from one way to two. "And this time? Tell me if there's anything you don't recognize on the list before you go searching."

Starscream skimmed the list and flashed another smile. "I don't see the word 'piezoelectric,' I think we're good." He claimed the datapad and stowed it in his cockpit. "Are you gonna be in New Prysmos?"

"Probably. I might visit some of the other places with the, uh—" Wheeljack made an up-and-down gesture with one finger, pantomiming the strange tangle of cables stretching up into the sky.

"Oh, yeah. The vacuum hoses."

"What?"

"Kup's term for them. Just don't go to the one with a cut hose; I don't think Optimus and his new alien squeeze are taking visitors."

Wheeljack picked up and stowed the can of engex. "Are they actually...?"

"Hell, I don't know." Starscream was apparently content to use the door like a normal mech this time; he walked out with Wheeljack. "So. The vacuum hose station that's—we've been using New Prysmos as north—the one that's east by southeast of New Prysmos—"

"Hold on. If New Prysmos is the north pole, then isn't everything else south of it?"

"No, like— Okay, if you were flying straight toward the center of New Prysmos, from wherever you are, that direction becomes north."

"Okay."

"So if you were to turn—well, I guess you could just drive in reverse—that becomes south. And east and west are perpendicular to the north-south line, through the center of New Prysmos."

"Yeah. Okay. Got it."

"So. The one east by southeast of New Prysmos—that's the Autobot base."

"Oh, we've got a base?"

"There's an Autobrand on the door and they glare when I come over, so if it's not an Autobot base, it's doing a good impression of one."

They probably weren't glaring because of Starscream's former faction so much as because of who Starscream was as a person, but Wheeljack wasn't about to mention that. "Blurr's there?"

"Either that, or out seeing how fast he can circumnavigate infraspace. I try not to keep up with his latest records; it reminds me of how small our bubble is."

"Then I'll see you later."

Blurr hugged Wheeljack.

Kup hugged Wheeljack.

Even Quickswitch hugged Wheeljack, which was just a tad awkward, since Wheeljack didn't really think they were close enough for that.

Still, he'd hugged everyone back—with extra squeezes for those who'd been dead before him.

"Didn't think we'd see you here!" Blurr was grinning from audial fin to audial fin, probably in part because Wheeljack was here and in part because Wheeljack had said that, as great as it was to see everyone, he'd mainly come to visit Blurr. He was quick to lead Wheeljack over to his section of the "Autobot base"—which was a half-built home inside a dark, decrepit silo. The weld lines were still visible on the walls where whatever equipment the silo originally held had been ripped off by the Autobots. Blurr's area was haloed with what had to have been half the lights in New Prysmos. "Starscream thought you might've got enough of a dose of the Talisman to end up here instead of dead. Kind of surprised he was right—not upset, though! For once. It's good to see you alive again. Ish."

So Starscream had lied. Surprise. Or Starscream had told the truth about what he believed, realized he was wrong, and went out to rectify his error?

"It's good to be alive again. Ish." And good to be around someone other than Starscream. Not that being around Starscream was bad, per se—and it really wasn't bad, he'd found over time, especially since the longer you were around him, the closer he got to shedding his masks and layers and acting like himself. But Wheeljack also found that, if he was around Starscream for too long, if he let himself synchronize too neatly with the way Starscream thought, the way Starscream spoke, sometimes he nearly forgot that there were other people out there. And that probably wasn't a good thing. Was it?

Blurr gestured for Wheeljack to take a seat on a crate, and sat on one across from him. "What took you so long to get here?" he asked. "You didn't get lost, did you?" He grinned. "New Prysmos isn't that big."

Wheeljack laughed. "No, no way." What else did he say about where he'd been? Telling Blurr he'd been dead-dead meant telling Blurr how he'd got un-dead, which meant explaining what Starscream was up to, and he'd promised he wouldn't. He'd agreed he shouldn't, even. But there was a difference between keeping it a secret and telling a lie about it. He'd never promised that. So what did he say? Blurr was looking at him expectantly.

"No, I was—I don't know where. Somewhere dark. Just... floating." Which wasn't dishonest. If he left it at that— "Maybe since I wasn't directly connected to the Talisman energy when I died, it took longer for it to tug me here."

Blurr shrugged. "Huh. Maybe. Who knows how that thing works."

There. He'd done it. And Starscream's secret was safe. Wheeljack waited for the guilt to come over him—the guilt like when he'd meekly followed along with Starscream's more dubious orders, the guilt when he'd said nothing in the face of Optimus's conquest—but it never came. What, was his guilt chip broken?

Or maybe he hadn't done the wrong thing.

"Oh—I came by to return this." Wheeljack took out the can of engex. "Don't know how Starscream got it off of you."

Blurr waved off the can. "Keep it. It's the only can of engex in infraspace. As long as I've got it, I'll be worrying about finding an opportunity to celebrate big enough to justify drinking it."

As Wheeljack stowed it away again, Blurr asked, "How'd you get it off Starscream?"

"Uh—" How did he answer that without admitting what he and Starscream were up to? "He—just gave it to me." Oh, stupid.

But Blurr laughed. "For you? I'm not surprised." And he gave Wheeljack a knowing look. Wheeljack wondered what it was he knew.

"You probably said something nice about his new paint."

Wheeljack looked up at Kup, who was now on top of a loft that had clearly been constructed recently, and— "Why are you standing on your head?"

"I'm meditatin'," Kup grunted. "Passes the time. It was a big help in the Dead Universe. Far as I can tell, only difference between there and here is the good company."

Wheeljack snorted. "You're flattering us," Blurr said.

Something about Kup's comment about Starscream's paint had sounded a little too wink-wink-nudge-nudge for Wheeljack's tastes, so instead of letting it lie, he replied, "Actually, I think what I said to him was that I'd only just been getting used to the blue. Where did he find red paint in here, anyway? I mean—I'm sure New Prysmos has paint somewhere, but not any that would look good on Cybertronians..."

"I'm sure he didn't use paint." Kup rolled down onto his back until he was sitting up, with only a couple of clanks and clunks—pretty graceful, for his age—and scooted around to face Wheeljack and Blurr again. "Probably did the same thing he did to get that new body of his—think it up into existence."

"What? Wait." Wheeljack looked between Kup and Blurr, optics wide. "You're saying he made that new body of his? I thought it— He called it his true form or something. I thought he... got it automatically when he died, or something."

They both shook their heads. Blurr said, "No, he showed up dead the same way he looked when he was alive, like the rest of us."

Kup said, "It took him—I don't know, time's funny here—maybe a week to work out how. He got the optics first, then started switching himself out piece by piece."

"So Starscream can shapeshift now." Wheeljack took a few seconds to absorb that. "Yeah. Okay. Sure, why not? Can we all do that?"

"Probably," Blurr said. "No one other than him has figured out how yet, though."

"Why do you think I'm over here meditating?" Kup stretched, and Wheeljack winced at all the pops, squeaks, and scrapes that emanated from his hips, back, and shoulders. "I'd sure like to shapeshift into something younger."

Wheeljack said, "Starscream always is pretty fast at figuring new things out."

"Yeah." Blurr's face screwed up in annoyance. As though Starscream's brilliance, his ability to think five steps ahead, his ability to combine ideas and schemes and politics and people—to make bombs out of bird crap—was one of his biggest flaws, rather than one of his saving graces.

And Wheeljack was reminded, jarringly, that when he was among Autobots, he was among people who didn't think Starscream had saving graces. Any virtues, any assets that Starscream had, to them, were just more things that made him dangerous to them.

It was like an invisible wall had come up between Wheeljack and the others. He didn't see Starscream like that anymore. How did he see Starscream?

He pressed the tips of the fingers that had brushed Starscream's waist into his palm.

Wheeljack found several sculptures and support structures in New Prysmos that he was pretty sure were made with piezoelectric crystals, but he didn't have the materials to easily turn them into ignition sources. He made note of them, in case he had to resort to them later, and kept searching.

Starscream was buzzing around the New Prysmos ruins, collecting his own list of materials. Wheeljack saw him from time to time in the sky, hovering in bot mode as he scanned the city for his next target, or flying back toward their worksite with a bundle of wires wrapped around his nosecone.

Just as Wheeljack was getting tired of breaking into far-too-small homes and guessing at where aliens might keep objects to start fires, he saw Starscream heading out toward the worksite again. Might as well take a break and see what kind of success Starscream had.

Wheeljack transformed and headed toward the site as well.

"You know, when one person has a twenty item scavenger hunt, and the other person has a one item scavenger hunt, usually you don't expect the guy with twenty items to pull in the lead."

"Oh, shut up. I gave you the easier list." Wheeljack was crouched on the floor, looking over Starscream's finds, which were piled up in a clear space: cords and cables and wires and struts and crystals and glass and tools and on and on. Wheeljack held up a tool that looked like some unholy cross between a wrench and a pair of pliers. "... Huh."

"Yeah, I know. I've been raiding the other Unicron sites for supplies. I'm guessing these are tools used on... which colony was he originally? Elonia, Arduria—no, Ant-something. Antonia? Why do all our colonies sound the same?"

"Unicron was a colony? As in—as in one of our colonies?"

"Oh, right, you weren't around for that. Surprise: we're our own worst enemy, again." Starscream crouched down around the pile of supplies, near Wheeljack—but, he noted, out of his arm's reach.

"You know, just once, I wish somebody else was our enemy." Wheeljack started reorganizing the scavenged supplies, arranging them so it'd be easier for him to quickly grab what he needed while he was working. "Just some whacko pack of invaders that we've never heard of and that’ve never heard of us, but that’ve decided they want a piece of our planet. I'm tired of every one of our enemies being 'each other,' 'the natural consequences of our terrible history,' or 'Shockwave again.'"

"If it helps, right now our enemy is the cold, uncaring concept of death itself."

"... Kinda does help. Thanks." Wheeljack sat back, looking over the rearranged supplies. "Do you believe in the Necrobot?"

Starscream scoffed. "As a supernatural entity? No. But I believe there's probably some weirdo out there that likes counting corpses. Do you?"

"Nah. Mythology."

Starscream appeared to consider that for a moment, then stood up. "I'm trading lists with you."

"What?"

"As reluctant as I am to admit to any of my very few flaws, I confess that I got the easy stuff first. The rest, I'd only trust a genius engineer to get right." Starscream half smiled. "Besides, we've both had a stab at the piezoelectric thingy now; it's my turn again."

"You sure? You don't have to." Didn't Starscream still not know exactly what a piezoelectric ignition source was?

"Sure. I found another place to search. It’s promising."

"In this little bubble?"

"I'm a miracle worker."

A miracle worker who was hiding something. But how much trouble could Starscream get into here, anyway? What was the worst he could do, kill someone? "All right, switch."

Starscream handed the datapad back to Wheeljack. Wheeljack was careful not to touch his hand. The items he'd already found were checked off. Yeah, he had found the easy things first. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Wheeljack didn't see plating nor paintchip of Starscream for... for a good while. (He missed time. He missed the need to refuel and the way it ordered the passage of events into cycles instead of a single interminable line.) He collected most of the materials he needed, hauling them one at a time back to their worksite; and as often as he looked to the sky, or along the far-off curves of infraspace's bubble, he didn't see Starscream flying around.

But on his third trip back, there Starscream was, leaning against the energy ansible with arms crossed and one foot crossed over the other, grinning triumphantly.

Wheeljack stopped in the door, two chemical-filled jars and a bundle of foil in his arms. "You found it?"

"I give you," Starscream said, "one piezoelectric ignition source."

He held up... Wheeljack couldn't even see it. He walked closer and squinted at Starscream's hand. It was an extremely tiny plastic brick, on the tip of one finger. "That's it?"

"It's called a lighter." Starscream said the word in human—Wheeljack wasn't sure what language just from one word, they all sounded so alike, but you could always tell when someone was speaking in human. "You push a little button, here," he tried to point with his other hand, which was basically useless, "and it squeezes something inside the lighter to make a spark and start a fire."

"It's tiny. I was hoping for something a little bigger than that."

"I got more." Starscream held his hand under his cockpit, opened it a crack, and hundreds of lighters spilled out.

Wheeljack dropped the foil bundle to the ground so he could hold one hand under Starscream's, catching any lighters that slid off. "Primus, Starscream, where'd you find all of these?"

"You know the humans that were trying to destroy Cybertron but dropped New Prysmos on us instead? I found some of their supplies on the edge of the city a while ago. I thought they might be useful, so I stowed them somewhere secret."

"And they brought this many lighters?"

"Probably to set off explosives. Or ignite those paper rolls that they like to stick in their mouths. Did you notice if any of our invaders used them?"

"No idea."

"Me neither."

Wheeljack carefully knelt so he could set down the jars of chemicals, and cupped both hands over the lighters. "They're so tiny."

"I'm sure we can find tweezers."

"You're sure they're piezoelectric? I'd have to take one apart before I was sure."

"Of course I'm sure," Starscream said. "I looked it up."

"Where?"

Starscream didn't say anything. Wheeljack glanced up at him. Starscream was looking back with a curiously blank expression that Wheeljack suspected was concealing blind panic.

It hit Wheeljack that nothing Starscream had told him about where he'd found the lighters was true. Wheeljack had just asked him for a part of the story he hadn't prepared yet.

He stood, looked at Starscream, and asked—no anger, no accusation, but very seriously—"Where did you get these lighters?"

Starscream looked back at him, and said, just as seriously, "In the supplies the humans left in New Prysmos."

And there they stood. Staring at each other. Hands full of hundreds of lighters.

Starscream looked away first, to very carefully drop his lighters in a pile on the bottom table of their table stack. "Let's split the rest of your list," he said. "It'll get done faster."

Wheeljack didn't say anything.

Starscream finally looked back at him. "Your list?"

"Starscream..."

"What." It was a what that didn't invite questions.

"Where did you get—"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Wheeljack snapped. He dumped his lighters on top of Starscream's, and for a moment was too uncomfortably close to him. "Yes, it does matter, because it means you're—you're not just hiding things from me—you're lying to me! When I'm trying to help you!"

"Oh, wow. Starscream's lying." He shrugged, hands swung wide. "Are you surprised?"

"No!" Wheeljack was surprised at how Starscream flinched back at the word. "No, I'm not! But I am disappointed!" Starscream scoffed; it wasn't convincing. "Disappointed and, and—and furious! And why? What, does it matter where you got the lighters? Did you, I don't know, have to murder a tribe of infraspace-dwelling aliens to get them?"

"Of course not," Starscream said defensively.

"There's no 'of course' anything with you! I can't take anything for granted!" Starscream flinched again. "Starscream—Starscream, I'm helping you. I'm on your side. Why don't you treat me like an ally?"

Starscream glowered down at the pile of lighters, jaw set in an angry pout. Wheeljack waited anyway. Finally, Starscream said, "This is how I treat my allies."

And that was so true, and so depressing, that it immediately drained the anger out of Wheeljack. "I guess so." He looked down at the mysterious lighters, and idly scooped them together into a pile.

"So," Starscream said, tone cold and reserved. "Splitting the list."

"Why should I keep doing this?" Wheeljack asked. "If you're just going to lie all the way through it."

"Because if you don't have a project to work on, then you've got nothing to do with yourself other than hang out with the other Autobots, and the best project they can offer you is an opportunity to play interior decorator." Glib and snappy. They were back on questions that Starscream had prepared answers to. Starscream had expected that Wheeljack would want out—and that was even more depressing. "You'd rather be here. You want to be here, stretching the boundaries of science, digging around in Unicron's guts, turning alien machinery inside-out, punching a hole between limbo and life—even if it's with me."

"It doesn't have to be 'even if,'" Wheeljack said. "It could be 'plus.'"

Starscream flinched again, like that was another jab at him.

Wheeljack hadn't meant it as one. "Starscream..."

"Just give me the list," Starscream said. "And we'll get it done and you won't have to deal with me anymore. All right?"

Not wanting to deal with Starscream anymore wasn't anywhere on the list of feelings motivating Wheeljack right then. Not wanting to deal with Starscream like THIS, sure. But he didn't know how to elucidate the difference. He wasn't entirely, completely sure how he did want to deal with Starscream. Not in any way he was ready to put into words.

So he reluctantly held out the datapad. Starscream snatched it up, scrawled a star next to a couple of the items, and handed it back. "The other two are yours." And he breezed past Wheeljack, so quickly and so close that Wheeljack felt a chill where Starscream's wings stirred the still air. He was out the door before Wheeljack could say another word.

Wheeljack looked down at his list of remaining objects, and sighed.

There were a couple of turbines in the energy ansible, but Wheeljack needed to install another couple for his modifications to work. He'd put them off to near the bottom of his list, but fortunately, he had a very good idea where he could find more.

This was the only energy ansible Starscream had mentioned, but Wheeljack had been staring at its guts long enough to figure out that it wasn't pulling enough energy from the stars to keep Unicron moving. It just wasn't efficient enough. Energy ansibles rarely were. Even if Unicron had alternate sources of fuel, he'd need at least a couple of energy ansibles to keep him going.

Wheeljack started driving, cutting between New Prysmos and the tiny facility with the cut vacuum hose. And as he drove, a structure slowly appeared underneath the heavy black sky: a building that looked just like the one where he and Starscream were working. A second energy ansible, on the exact opposite side of infraspace from the one where Wheeljack and Starscream had been working.

There were his turbines. And, ideally, some answers about Starscream.

Wheeljack had no doubt that Starscream was telling the truth about having done something to the energy ansible that let him escape a few times before failing. If he hadn't done it once already, he wouldn't have been so sure that it was possible that he’d willingly spent what was probably his last trip hauling Wheeljack out of the afterlife to accomplish it; and if it hadn't broken down, he wouldn't have needed to haul Wheeljack out at all.

But by now, he also had no doubt that the energy ansible he'd looked over had never been modified by Cybertronian hands. The one Starscream had modified must have been somewhere else.

Wheeljack had been content to let Starscream keep his secrets as long as they had been only that—secrets. But now that they were lies, too, perhaps he'd better find out just what the hell Starscream was up to.

The building for the second energy ansible was laid out much the same as the first. Starscream had even taken the time to disable the same mechanisms. The windows were shuttered and only a few emergency lights worked, but beyond that, the only difference between this site and the other one—

—was Shockwave.

Wheeljack stopped dead. Shockwave was like a data ghost in a bad dream, surreal and translucent and multitudinous. Three versions of him lay over the same space, fading brighter and dimmer as Wheeljack stared: the senator, as resplendent as he had been in his heyday in turquoise and rose gold; the centaur Prime with the cruel gaze; and the shabby, worn-out purple scientist with the lost face and hand. Wheeljack couldn't move as all three forms turned to face him at once, their gazes overlapped.

Some distant part of Wheeljack was relieved to note that despite his appearance, at least Shockwave still had only one voice—dusty, droning, haughty, and supremely disinterested: "You aren't dead. Fascinating."

"You aren't solid," Wheeljack retorted. Shockwave glanced down at himself, as if to check Wheeljack's claim.

"Ah, yes. I've been having trouble consolidating my identity. Forgive me." Shockwave looked up again. "I'm not as good at this as Starscream. He always has been bafflingly quick on the uptake."

Wheeljack had been looking around for something to chuck at Shockwave's face—that was, Starscream had said, the locally accepted way to get him to go away—but at Starscream's name, he stopped. "You've been talking to Starscream?" For a moment, it all made sense: Starscream's insistence that Wheeljack not tell the Autobots anything, especially Optimus; the fact that he'd never mentioned the second energy ansible, the one which Shockwave was apparently haunting; the fact that Starscream had declared in no uncertain terms that he wasn't getting information from Shockwave but was reluctant to explain why— "You're working with Starscream!"

Shockwave made a noise so emphatically disgusted that it not only dispelled Wheeljack's theory completely, but also packed more emotion into a single sound than Wheeljack had heard out of Shockwave for the entire length of the war. "I would not work with him if the fate of the universe was at stake."

Sarcastically, Wheeljack snapped, "Saving it or destroying it?"

Shockwave tilted his head—heads—and gave the question serious consideration. "Either," he said thoughtfully. "Regardless, I am here to visit Orion."

Wheeljack was already mentally reproaching himself for assuming the worst of Starscream. What happened to being one of the only mechs to recognize his virtues? What made Wheeljack any kinder to Starscream than Blurr or Kup if he jumped on the first opportunity to think the worst of Starscream?

"Has he been claiming to be working with me?" Shockwave asked.

"No," Wheeljack said. "The opposite, actually."

Shockwave nodded slowly. "And so you doubted him. Intelligent."

Yeah. Pfeh.

He went on: "But no. If you're looking for one of Starscream's accomplices in the real world, you should be looking to Bumblebee, not me. I'm given to understand he's been visiting him regularly."

That, actually, rang true. Bumblebee had mentioned, in passing, having been able to speak to Starscream from Crystal City; it’d make sense if Starscream sought him out...

But hold on. "'Regularly'? What do you mean, regularly? How regularly?"

"I'm in prison," Shockwave said. "How would I know?"

He knew a lot for someone who wasn't supposed to know anything. "But—not lately, right? Not since whatever he used to get the energy ansible to transport him broke down?"

"You're calling it an 'energy ansible'? Really?"

"Just—answer the question!"

Shockwave gave Wheeljack a long, considering look. "Did he tell you he's been using it to transport himself?"

Wheeljack felt his fuel tank drop. "What—what has he been using?"

"Nothing," Shockwave said. "He simply flies through the Unicron black hole and out. He has the thus far entirely unique talent of being able to effortlessly drag his spark into and out of infraspace and black holes—no need for equipment, assistance, or the tedious practice I put in to learn a shallow facsimile of his ability. I almost wonder if it isn't a previously latent outlier ability that never had an opportunity to express itself."

Wheeljack stared at Shockwave, stunned silent. Shockwave took the opportunity to give Wheeljack a pointed once over. "And now he can even will his spark to the afterlife and back? Oh, that is fascinating."

Wheeljack slammed open the door so hard that Starscream jumped. Good, he was here. (He was blue again.)

"You can leave."

Starscream looked startled at the declaration; then resigned. "Oh. I thought—you might need help putting everything together, but—"

"No!" Wheeljack pointed out the window, toward the sky. "You can leave infraspace! All this time, you could leave!"

"Whaaat?" Starscream said, completely unconvincingly. "Why would you think—?"

"Shockwave."

"Oh, scrap."

"All this—" Wheeljack gestured at the energy ansible, "it isn't to get you out of infraspace. It never was. So what is it for?"

Starscream scowled.

"Starscream."

He kept scowling. He didn't say anything.

"Dammit, Starscream, just—" Wheeljack swept a hand at all the supplies they'd collected. "You've had me working on this for I-don't-know-how-long—"

"Three weeks."

"—you could at least tell m— Three weeks?!" He'd thought it was a couple of days. "You can tell time, too?!"

"No." Starscream's arms were crossed tight, and he was glowering down at his feet. "But I can check when I go out."

"Ah!" He was admitting that he could do it. Progress. "So why? What do you need the energy ansible for?"

Starscream hissed, "What does it matter?" Like his words were snake venom and he was trying to sink them in as deeply as he could. "You're not going to work on it anymore. Why would you? I've misled you. I've lied to you. Make up your own story. I'm sure you can imagine plenty of sufficiently awful things." He stormed past Wheeljack to the door.

"Don't." Wheeljack caught Starscream's arm as he passed. Starscream froze up, tensed like he wanted to push Wheeljack away, but for a moment, didn't. Wheeljack was hypercognizant of the texture of Starscream's paint under his hand. "Yeah, you're right; I can imagine plenty of awful things. And you go out of your way to make them easy to imagine. But I've known you long enough to know that, no matter what it is you're up to, it's not half as bad as you want to make everyone believe it is. You've never been as big a villain as you try to look like."

Starscream stared at Wheeljack. His expression was some desperate mix of fury and bafflement and hope, and Wheeljack had no idea what to make of it, so he forged on: "I don't wanna assume the worst about you, Starscream. The worst is never true. So just... tell me why you needed the—"

Some pressure valve burst; Starscream exploded. "It's you! Okay?! You're the one I did this for! I'm trying to get you out!"

Wheeljack's words stuck in his throat.

Starscream shoved Wheeljack off. (Wheeljack registered, vaguely, that sometime while he'd been holding Starscream's arm, Starscream's body had changed completely, to the one Starscream had been wearing when Wheeljack had woken from his coma to be told Starscream was the new leader of Cybertron.) "The goal is to get you out—out of infraspace, back into the real world. I clawed my way into the Afterspark to save you. All right? Not to get an engineer—I don't need a damn engineer, I can go wherever I want—but to get you! And to get you to work on the energy ansible, because I don't know enough to do it, but I do know enough to know that this," he pointed, "this is your best chance of getting home!"

All that, to help Wheeljack? Wheeljack had known whatever Starscream had been up to couldn't have been as bad as his automatic suspicions (his 60% Autobot suspicions) had wanted to say they were, but to help him? Starscream started pacing; Wheeljack sank down on a chair that was just a little too short for the average Cybertronian.

"The other Autobots already tried to get out," Starscream said. "They can't. We all know that the sky is the way out—it's just an inside-out black hole. The Autobots tried climbing the vacuum hoses to get up to it, they tried sending up Quickswitch in jet mode—nothing. The closer you get to the sky, the heavier gravity gets. I'm the only one it doesn't affect, and I don't know why. It does affect my passengers—I tried flying Blurr up and couldn't carry his weight. If you want to make it out, it's the energy ansible or nothing!"

"Why?"

Starscream threw his hands up. "I don't know why! I haven't studied black holes! Go ask Shockwave, if you two are such good friends now—"

"No, not that," Wheeljack said. "It's obvious to anyone who has a passing familiarity with quantum engineering in curved spacetime that an energy ansible is the only way to get supercompressed matter out of a black hole."

"Oh," Starscream said uncertainly, "right, obviously."

"I mean why are you going to all this trouble to get me out?"

Starscream stopped pacing. That was, evidently, another question for which he hadn't prepared an answer. "Because I—" He cut off sharply. "Because you... deserve so much more than to be just another dead unsung hero."

Starscream meant it. Everything about him screamed that he meant it; the way his voice went quiet and shy, the way he shifted his weight uncomfortably during the admission, they way he couldn't even look at Wheeljack even though his optics were so bright.

However, it wasn't what Starscream said that made Wheeljack's spark spin faster. It was what he'd stopped saying.

Infraspace was so quiet when neither one of them was talking. No wind outside, no distant sounds of vehicles and pedestrians, nothing mechanical shifting inside the building—not even electricity humming through the probably-magic lights. It was so quiet Wheeljack could hear the fans working in Starscream's body, the hiss of the combustion chambers in his thrusters nervously turning on and off.

Quietly, Wheeljack asked, "Why didn't you just say you wanted—" he meant to say to help me, he should have said to help me, but instead he said, "me?"

And they both winced, because you couldn't bandy about that sort of honesty with Starscream. Throwing too much honesty at him at once was like flashing your headlights in a nocturnal creature's optics.

Starscream laughed a nervous, rattly laugh, and that was when Wheeljack knew that he was going to get an honest answer back. "It doesn't work like that for me," he said, with a sardonic smile. "The only way I ever get what I want is lying."

"I'm gonna sock everyone who made you believe that," Wheeljack said hotly. He sat back in his chair and spread his hands wide. "If you wanted me, you only had to ask!"

There was a long moment of silence, while they were both equally shocked by the words that had just come out of Wheeljack.

And a second long moment while they figured out which one of them was going to mildly freak out over it first.

Wheeljack figured that if he was the one who freaked out, Starscream would think he hadn't meant it—and he had meant it; he just hadn't known he was going to mean it until after he'd said it. So it couldn't be him. Instead, he raised his outstretched hands an inch higher, and said, firmly, "Yeah!"

And Starscream shrieked, "You what? Since when?!"

"I—have no idea at all!" The outstretched hands became a shrug. "You give off these—really intense off-the-market vibes, so I sort of... you know..."

Starscream gaped at Wheeljack. And then started laughing. He clapped a hand over his mouth, laughing so hard that he had to lean against the energy ansible. He slowly slid to the floor, and Wheeljack stood up, not quite sure if he should be helping Starscream back up, watching him fall, or joining him.

Joining him, he decided. Wheeljack sat down next to Starscream, and tentatively leaned their shoulders together. Starscream stiffened; then relaxed with an obvious conscious effort, his wings and plating shifting minutely. He'd stopped laughing, but his hand hadn't uncovered his mouth yet. Behind it, Wheeljack could glimpse a bit of the same frightened, frantic smile he'd seen when Wheeljack had touched Starscream's waist and Starscream had escaped out a window.

"Hey," Wheeljack said. He wanted to follow up with something reassuring, but wasn't sure what. But Starscream was looking at him, now. So after a moment too long of silence, he asked, "What happened to your other body?" He pointed at the far more angular frame that had replaced it. "You were wearing the other one when I came in."

"Oh. Yeah, that's—something else I can do now." Starscream lowered his hand and shrugged—it felt like static danced between their shoulders. "It's probably all connected, somehow."

"No, I know that you can do it; the Autobots told me," Wheeljack said. "Why'd you switch, though?"

"Oh. Yeah." Starscream glanced down at himself. "You like it?"

It was dawning on Wheeljack that Starscream had asked for his opinion every single time Starscream switched up his frame since Wheeljack had woken up here. "I—sure. It's fine."

"You said it wasn't bad," Starscream said, "the first time you saw me in it. So." He shrugged. "You know."

It was dawning on Wheeljack that Starscream had been asking what he thought for a lot longer than he realized. "It's not bad," he said, "but you called that other one your 'true body,' right?"

"Oh. Yeah." Starscream looked at the floor. "Yeah. So I'm told."

They were silent for a moment. Wheeljack wasn't sure what else to say. This was nowhere near where he'd expected his day (week? afterlife?) to go. Should they be talking relationships, now? Dates? Dealbreakers? Hammer out cross-faction courting expectations? Was Wheeljack going to have to duel Megatron for permission to conjugate Starscream? Was it too early to think about—

"I thought," Starscream said, "if I could get my true body, I'd feel... better. Like a better person. Like the person I'm supposed to be. Instead, I just feel more like me than ever." He grimaced, like that was some grotesquely unfair punishment.

"Well," Wheeljack said carefully, "who else are you supposed to feel like?"

Starscream snorted.

"I'm not kidding. You can—you know—be someone worth being without becoming somebody else." Wheeljack was more accustomed to saving the worth-affirming speeches for the engineers and inventors under him that liked to bounce between boisterous arrogance and crippling performance anxiety—Brainstorm came to mind—but he got the impression these were things that no one else had ever bothered to say to Starscream. "You're someone worth being."

"What makes you so sure? You're only getting the outside view. You aren't me."

"No. But I do know you're someone worth knowing. Which is close enough."

Wheeljack didn't know if Starscream bought that answer, but he did stop talking. Stunned silent or considering it?

He felt Starscream readjust against his shoulder, and glanced over. Starscream's body had shifted again, back to curvy and blue. He was resting his head against the energy ansible, a dark, thoughtful look on his face, as he gazed at the window. Wheeljack leaned his head on the energy ansible as well, wondered if that look was a good thing, and wondered if he'd said the right thing.

Starscream's fingertips were warm as they hesitantly brushed over the back of Wheeljack's knuckles, waiting for an invitation to go farther. Wheeljack laced their hands together.

Wheeljack's spark whirled so fast it felt like a spinning top, dancing in circles around the room.

Removing the turbines from the other energy ansible, it turned out, was a two person job. They were so deep in the machinery, Wheeljack griped, that he couldn't lean into the casing that far without losing his balance and falling in. Maybe he could open up the casing from the other side and try to remove them that way—

—or Starscream could serve as a counterbalance, Starscream suggested.

After a bit of interrogation, Wheeljack figured out what he meant by that: Starscream would put his hands on Wheeljack's waist and lean back, so that Wheeljack could lean forward and his center of balance would still stay far enough back that he wouldn't fall into the energy ansible. Which sounded to Wheeljack a whole lot like Starscream's way of seeing whether or not he could get away with getting his hands on Wheeljack yet.

"We did this all the time in the Decepticons," Starscream insisted, all wide optics and faux innocence. "We're all quite accomplished at jury-rigged mechanics, you know."

"Uh-huh. Because that's what the Decepticons are known for, isn't it? Getting their hands all over each other in the name of teamwork and cooperation."

Beneath the faux innocence, something mischievous glinted in Starscream's optics. "Well. It certainly helps if you find a partner you like."

And so they extracted the turbines like that: Wheeljack leaning into the energy ansible, Starscream holding tight to his waist, their hips inching way too close to each other to not be distracting, and Wheeljack pretending he didn't know Starscream was wearing that grin he wore whenever he knew he was getting away with something wicked.

"And the best part is," Starscream said cheerily, "I'll bet you anything Shockwave won't be able to get back into infraspace once this energy ansible doesn't work anymore."

"What's it matter? We're not going to be here much longer either."

"I know. But I like knowing he doesn't have nice things."

"So," Starscream said, breaking the silence. He and Wheeljack had been studiously soldering new wiring into the energy ansible for... however long, now. "Bumblebee tells me that, when Autobots are courting, generally the one kicking things off does so by giving the object of his, erm, affections," (he mumbled the word, like he wasn't entirely confident in saying it yet) "a sonnet he wrote, and a really cool rock. Like—an impressive geode, or a lab sapphire grown in an interesting shape. He's messing with me, right?"

"Oh, yeah, completely." Wheeljack used up the last of his roll of solder, tossed it over his shoulder, and walked over to their supplies to grab another. "Need more solder?"

"I'm good."

"However," Wheeljack said, "if you wanted to give me a really cool rock, I'd definitely be thrilled."

"Oh yeah? Would it win me points?"

"Oh, beaucoup points." He sat back down and continued soldering. "You talked to Bumblebee? When?"

"Made a trip while you were collecting all that sheet metal. I don't know why I bothered to update him. All I got was razzing and completely fake advice."

"I dunno... that rock idea..."

Starscream huffed, and they lapsed into silence again as they worked.

"... Is that what we're doing now?" Wheeljack asked. "Courting? Officially, I mean?"

"I... I don't know." Starscream paused, then added, in a mumble, "I've never really done this before. A couple times, kinda, but they don't really count. I was planning to use and backstab them."

"Same," Wheeljack admitted, "except for the using-and-backstabbing part."

"I don't get..." Starscream shook his head. "I know that I'm a pile of red flags stitched in the shape of a jet. I don't know why you'd want to court me. Or be courted by me. I don't know if that's a unilateral or bilateral thing."

Wheeljack shrugged. "If you were planning to betray me, you wouldn't have told me you'd betrayed the last couple 'bots you courted, right?"

"I told the second one about the first one."

"I'll take my chances."

The smile Starscream graced Wheeljack with could have illuminated every hall of a Metrotitan. "Courting, then."

He wondered what in the world Starscream had told Bumblebee, if he hadn't told him that they were already courting.

He wondered what it was like, traveling back from infraspace to the real world. Was it like traveling through a wormhole? A space bridge? Could Starscream feel the black hole—what was that like?

Wheeljack figured he'd be finding out soon enough.

"Energy stable?"

Starscream checked the alien console, referring back to the notes they'd attached above it explaining what the readouts meant. "Check."

"Ignition ready?"

Starscream looked at the massive block of dissected-and-recombined lighters bound into their patchwork machine with electrical tape. "Check, I hope." Starscream glanced at Wheeljack. "Patient prepped?"

Wheeljack looked down at the dozens of wires dangling from his open spark casing. "Check. I hope."

Starscream stepped back from the energy ansible and stood next to Wheeljack, and together they looked over their work. It was an absolute mess.

"Are we ready?" Starscream asked.

Wheeljack surveyed the mess critically. Everything appeared to be connected, and nothing was throwing off sparks, so... "If I commed up the break room in Kimia and asked whoever was there if they thought it was ready, three out of five of them would say yes."

"And that means...?"

"We go for it."

Starscream gave Wheeljack an alarmed look. "Is that how Autobots usually do science? Field testing is decided by three out of five 'bots on their break?"

"It's the polar opposite of the Shockwave method. I see that as a plus," Wheeljack said. "Besides, what's the worst thing a malfunctioning energy ansible could do? Kill me?"

Starscream went over to the energy ansible's controls, but muttered, "In this place? I wouldn't rule out the possibility."

”It’s as ready as it’s gonna be,” Wheeljack said. “Which means…” He rummaged around under his armor.

”What? Means what?” Starscream’s optics lit up in surprise when he saw Wheeljack extract the can of engex, and he laughed. “I thought you gave it back.”

”Blurr didn’t want it. C’mon. Split?”

”You first. I’m prepping the energy ansible.” It slowly started to hum to life as Starscream powered it up.

Wheeljack popped open the can, slid his mask half off, and chugged down half the can—trying to ignore how keenly Starscream watched his rarely-exposed face as he drank. When he was done, he clicked his mask back in place and held the rest out to Starscream.

Starscream’s fingers brushed Wheeljack’s as he took the can, and Wheeljack found his gaze caught by Starscream’s. Starscream’s new optics were the color of a deep pool of energon, and just as full of life and energy just waiting to be unleashed. They were the most alive thing in infraspace.

Starscream pressed his lips where Wheeljack’s had been and drained the can, and smirked when Wheeljack tried to cover up a spontaneous engine rev by clearing his throat. Later—he could follow up on that later. When they were out of here.

"Come on! Just turn it on." Wheeljack gave Starscream an encouraging grin, optics curving. "I'll see you on the other side."

Starscream rolled his optics, but he was still smirking. "No dying this time," he commanded. "I'll see you around Mars." Starscream flipped the energy ansible on.

"Hold on. Mars?"

And then it powered on. It felt like a vacuum sucking his spark out of its casing, and all the electricity in his frame out with his spark. The engex he’d just drank vaporized. His vision swam and darkened. The tips of his fingers were just going numb when he was ripped free from his frame and hurdled away into nothingness.

Wheeljack wondered how many people in the galaxy had gotten to see the view from the inside of a black hole coming out. It was like a billion points of light flying straight through him, like rain whipped by the wind, as he flew the wrong way through the event horizon.

And then he was free, spinning through space, stars whirling around him, a sun flashing in and out of his view, and he was struck by the dizzying wondrous sense of space—of open space, of existence and energy and connection and life.

And then he was falling, slowly, back toward the event horizon.

Starscream caught his hand. "You made it!"

Slowly he stopped falling and stopped spinning. Starscream held him up, weightless, in defiance of the black hole's gravity, and beamed at him. Literally beamed at him. The sun was beaming through his face. "You're see-through?"

"We're see-through," Starscream said. "We're incorporeal, at the moment."

"Uh." Wheeljack looked down at his body, and saw the lights of the event horizon spinning through his chest. "I see that."

"Temporary problem," Starscream said dismissively. "I'm in contact with Bumblebee—he's the only one I can talk to directly, without possessing a TV or anything—"

"You can possess a TV?"

Starscream seized Wheeljack's other hand, squeezed them both, and gushed, "It's amazing. I've got to show you how to travel through the Internet; there's so many things we can do like this—anyway. Bumblebee can get us to Windblade—they're friends now, we can beg a favor off of her—she can get us to Nautica, and Nautica can get us to Brainstorm."

"Uh-huh." Okay. That was a whole lot of travel for someone who'd been dead four minutes ago—was time passing again?—but Starscream had clearly thought this out. "And, Brainstorm will give us...?"

"His expertise on mechs that are dead but still alive—which I think is as close as we're going to get to expertise on whatever we currently are—and hopefully, eventually, new bodies."

"Really? We're trusting Brainstorm to make our bodies?" Wheeljack asked. "You know there's an apocalyptic events scale named after him, right?"

"What's the worst thing he could do? Kill us?" Starscream winked.

Wheeljack laughed. "If anyone could find a way..."

"Then it's a good thing I have an expert engineer with me to check my future body for explosives." Starscream squeezed Wheeljack's hands again. "Ready to go?"

Wheeljack squeezed back. "Ready."

Without needing his thrusters, propelled by his own energy and will, Starscream flew away from the black hole and pulled Wheeljack along with him; two sparks shot through the sky toward Earth.

Also on Ao3, see link on my blog!

#starscream #wheeljack #starjack #transformers #maccadam #secretsolenoid #my writing #forged starscream

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imababblekat · 6 years

Text

Imagine Ratchet Making The Bases AI A Body

-the fact that Ratchet was even able to build them a body is astonishing

-him and his team are already so limited with technology, and while it probably would have been no problem with Cybertronian tech, they're left with what Earth has to provide, which for him and his race is very under developed in comparison

-luckily for the grumpy ol bot, there's plenty of humans who would love nothing more than to help in this project in the name of science(NASA quickly becomes one of his biggest supporters)

-when his team starts to question why he did this, he states that it would make their stay on Earth much easier, seeing as how the ai could physically escort the bots without falling out of range like if they were in the base systems, yadda yadda

-but really it's because he's seen the longing on their face when his teammates high five after a successful mission, Bulkhead and Bee play a game of Lobbing, Arcee speed out of the bases corridor to an outside world they only know from their data banks, and the retirement of the whole team to get some rest in other parts of the base while they're left confined to a stingy monitor, and it all breaks Ratchet's spark

-he doesn't ever admit the fondness he has for them and how that's a part of why he's doing this whole thing in the first place, but some few *coughoptimuscoughcough* knew the moment Ratchet even brought the idea up

-Optimus is very touched by his friends compassion for their ai member, and helps to persuade Agent Fowler and his bosses into giving an approving thumbs up for the project(you could hear happy lil science hoomans in the background loosing their shit)

-once everything is done and the final day is here, it's all anxious anticipation, as Ratchet hooks up the last cable to their computers

-while very excited to finally be more than 2d, the ai is also extremely nervous; what if something goes wrong? what if they don't make it through? what if the power cuts off at the last second and they can't get back to the bases computers leading them to be wiped from existence?!

-Ratchet's quick to reassure them that everything will be okay, and when they question him why, he says because he's here and if someone messes shit up or something goes wrong he's going to kick some afts and wrenches will be flying

-his small quip causes the ai to giggle, but also feel a lot calmer than before and they give him a soft thank you before the transition begins

-Ratchet only nods with an affirming grunt, but when they disappear from screen, he can’t help but to let his optic ridges furrow in the slightest at his own worrying thoughts

-if something were to go wrong, he's not sure he’d able to forgive himself

-it's taking quite a bit of time, which is expected because while the stuff they have before them is pretty high-tech, it's still Earth technology, but the doctor gets the distinct feeling that the process is taking a lot longer than what it should

-before he can ask one of the head scientist of the project what's going on, alarms and warnings start popping up across their screens and everyone's immediately in a frenzy to get things fixed

-if it couldn't get any worse, everything suddenly shuts down just as they think they've got it, and the base is filled with nothing but tense silence

-Ratchet's filled with an all too familiar feeling in his spark; like when he's lost a patient but somehow also different, and he goes and sits beside their human looking body with helm in his servos

-he hears the loud clanking of metal pedes approach him, and he's waiting for Optimus to lay a sympathetic servo on his shoulder when he instead feels the light touch of a soft hand on his thigh plating

-he thinks it's one of the scientist and he's about to snap at them to leave him alone when he opens his optics and looks over to see two stunning (e,c) eyes gaze up at him with an equally stunning smile, which parts to lightly say, "I made it."

~xXx~

#tfp ratchet x reader #tfp ratchet #transformers prime imagine #transformers prime #tfp #transformers imagine #maccadam #ai reader #imagine #headcannons #request #anon request #imababblekat's writing

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secretsolenoid · 6 years

Text

They Lingered Awhile

Gift for @harutemu!

Contains spoilers from Lost Light #25.

PRE-WAR: Ratchet’s Dead-End Clinic

Drift’s consciousness slipped in and out as the circuit boosters were flushed out of his system. Waves of pain ebbed from his chest every time his spark pulsed. His vision was unfocused and blurred, but in the haze, he could make out a white face, with a red helm and a grey chevron hovering inches over his own. The bot’s intake was moving, but he could only hear static. Drift dialed up his audials and winced when it kept shorting out. Fortunately, he was barely able to make out the bot’s voice over the noise.

“--zzt--don’t know--zzt--can hear me, but--zzt--safe now. Systems keep--zzt--on and off. That’s good. Means--zzt--functional enough--zzt--online completely.”

From what Drift could piece together, this mech appears to be a medic of some sorts. He wanted to say something, but his processor was getting hazy and he couldn’t keep awake for much longer. It was getting harder to concentrate and he could feel his frame shutting down. The medic seemed to have taken notice by the look of his concerned expression.

“Come on, don’t--zzt--stay with me.--zzt--done with the recharge, just stay--zzzzzzt--”

His senses shut down once again. He wasn’t scared of death. As an undesirable living in Rodion’s Dead End, he constantly saw the grey, lifeless frames, laying around for scavengers to take apart. But, for once, he was happy. Because for just a brief moment, he died knowing somebody truly cared about him. If he ever got through this alive, he’ll have to thank the bot somehow. He once again slipped back into a peaceful shutdown.

---

POST-WAR: Rivets Field

Drift stood in front of the grave of his conjux endura.

The memorial was long over. Every attending Cybertronian wandered away from the grave to catch up with each other. He’ll be sure to talk to every one of them before they left, but he wanted to linger at the site for a bit longer.

Drift chuckled. Ratchet would have made such a fuss if he saw all this. The holographic statue. The Spectralist ceremony. The rows innermost energon vials. That part of the memorial really touched him. Seeing all of those bots line up to say their goodbyes. It was nice to see everyone again like things were back on the Lost Light. Well, almost. Rodimus called ahead of time to say he’ll be late. The attendees took it as an excuse to linger around a bit longer and reminiscence on old times. But deep down everybody knew things were not as bright as they used to be.

Drift looked up at Ratchet’s holograph and gave a soft, sullen smile. He took comfort knowing that he’ll see his partner again in All-Spark. Still, was it selfish of him to want more time with him? From the corner of his optics, he could make out a round shuttle descend from the sky. Before anybody could react, a small piece of its engine broke off and quickly hurled its way towards Drift’s helm.

---

Drift groaned when the rest of his systems came back online.

What happened? Was he dead? If he was, then why did he feel like slag?

Drift rebooted his optics. When his view came to full focus, he saw Ratchet who was pulling away tubes attached to his frame. Rather than the usual scowl that was plastered on Ratchet's face, it was filled with relief. He had on his old frame, his aura was bright, and he looked youthful and full of hope. Beside him was Optimus Prime who was leaning against a wall.

“I should arrest you,” said Optimus.

“Ah, give him a break, Pax. He’s been through the mill,” Ratchet replied as he set aside his tray of tools.

Wait. This sounded familiar. The realization of where and when he was finally dawned on him.

Ratchet walked up to Drift. Drift had a million things he wanted to say. How much he missed him. How much everybody missed him. But his mind went blank when Ratchet placed a servo on his shoulder.

“Listen to me, kid. I saved your life today. What happens next is up to you.” Ratchet said. “Get a Paint ‘N’ Polish and visit the Functionists downtown--see if they can match you up to a job. You’re special--I can tell. Now get out there and prove me right.”

Drift was stunned. He remembered what happens next. He would swear off the circuit boosters, thank Ratchet for the help, decline the job offer in lieu of donating his alt-mode. Then later he would...kill the guards that killed Gasket and join the Decepticons as Deadlock.

He would roam across the galaxy. Kill all of those innocents. Even for the sake of preserving timelines, he didn’t think he could go through all of that again. Guilt riddled inside of him and kept his gaze down. He remained silent.

Ratchet huffed.

“Look, kid. I didn’t bust my aft dragging you back from the All-Spark so you can waste your time moping around," he said, "And I was being serious about you being special.”

Drift perked up. Now, this was something new.

"So...what did you see in a destitute junkie?" Drift asked.

Ratchet rubbed his chin. “I’m probably going crazy, and you can ignore what I’m going to say," said Ratchet, "but deep in my spark I--look I can’t explain it. But ever since I saw you, I’ve felt this pull in my spark and I just felt that it was absolutely vital that you didn't die.”

“What do you mean?”

Ratchet sighed.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve worked with a lot of patients, few of whom couldn’t make it. I felt sad about it, sure, but it never really affected me. This was a first for me, but everytime your spark faded, I felt...despair. And every time it flared, I felt like myself again. It was as if some part of me knew that if you died right now, then I could never hope or feel anything again.”

Drift was stunned silent.

“So whatever you've done is done. Here and now is your chance to do better. Back me up here, Pax. Pax…?”

Ratchet turned around to find Orion watching the monitor which announced the death of Nominus Prime. Ratchet walked up to Orion to discuss their next course of action.

Drift laid back on the medical slab. He could recall the many times this scenario ran through his processor. But he could never figure out what made Ratchet believe in him as much as he did. If he was saved from Dead End as a chance to prove himself, then he knows that he failed the moment he started killing. But maybe that wasn’t why he was here.

He looked over to where Ratchet was and it all suddenly clicked. He got off the slab and walked to where the two were standing. His spark pulsed faster and faster as he got closer to Ratchet who turned towards Drift with arms crossed.

"I haven't finished examining you, kid. Get back on the slab," said Ratchet.

“Ratchet, listen to me," Drift said, "After the Senate killed Nominus, many big things will happen in the future. You were right. If here and now is my chance to do better, then I was meant to stay with you."

Ratchet chuckled. "You are not making a whole lot of sense there, kid." He looked back at the monitor. "But it seems like nothing ever does make sense."

Orion, who was listening to the entire conversion, placed his servo on Drift's shoulders. He was grinning behind his faceplate.

"So, you too believe that the Senate is behind this. You two remind me of someone I’d like both of you to meet.”

Ratchet and Orion walked out of the clinic, discussing their theories about the fake matrix. Drift trailed behind them, surer of this moment than at any other moment in his life.

#fic gift #drift #ratchet #mtmte #lost light #contains spoilers #harutemu

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the-odd-job · 4 years

Text

Ashes of Icarus chapter 16 - Bleed Me Dry

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Ratchet, Prowl Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2772

( Previous )

“Pits, Sunstreaker.” Ratchet ran a servo down his face. Prowl was standing behind him, his doorwings tense and a very unhappy frown as his expression.

“I fix you and you break yourself all over again in two hours? I wish that was a new record for you!” Ratchet ranted, but Sunstreaker knew he was more worried than angry. They thought this was the first time in a very, very long time that he had lost it out of his control—that his willing glitching against Megatron had had more effect on him than everyone had initially thought.

Sunstreaker knew this was now the second time his frame got the better of him, though admittedly… He hadn’t fought it as hard as he could have. He was too frustrated, too angry.

Sideswipe had paid the largest price for it. They were equal when both were in control of their minds, but once Sunstreaker snapped… Sideswipe had nothing that could match him. Sideswipe wasn’t damaged in the same way.

Sideswipe never stood a chance.

Neither did Ironhide for that matter.

Or Cliffjumper.

Or Hound.

Or Brawn.

It had taken Jazz’s intervention to end his rampage. The TIC definitely had all the tricks necessary to neutralize him, berserker or not.

Everyone else was only lucky it all had been contained to the training room.

It was the… Fucking worst episode he’d had even long before he had gained near full control of himself. For the longest time they had ended after he had taken down his primary opponent. Everyone knew to just stay out of his way, to not make threats of themselves until he’d run his course.

That should have worked.

It hadn’t, this time. They had stayed out of his way, and he had still scrapped the lot of them.

Now all five of them lay on the medical berths in the medbay proper in various stages of fragging slagged. Sideswipe was the worst of them; he’d beaten his brother straight to unconsciousness. The others weren’t much better off, but really, they were just lucky he hadn’t straight up killed them.

Sunstreaker himself had been confined to a private room under the fear that his mental stability was on a steep decline. And… He wasn’t sure he could really disagree with that assessment. That had been pretty bad, even he could admit that much.

Ratchet didn’t bring it up, though, but Prowl did. He had to, when the safety of the entire Ark crew was brought into question. “How do you feel?” the doorwinger asked him.

Sunstreaker frowned. “Fine.” Aside from the physical things, anyway. His frame was again broken well beyond his ability to categorize the damage, but that was nothing new.

The terse answer definitely wasn’t what Prowl wanted, and his wings twitched before he looked at Ratchet. “How is he, medically speaking?”

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. It took him a few moments to answer. Prowl waited patiently, Sunstreaker, not so much. He was sort of dying to know how badly his mental health was declining. He didn’t feel terribly bad, but… Stress was his trigger.

And he had quite a few reasons to be stressed, which didn’t work out in anyone’s favor. Push him even a bit further towards the edge, add just one more stressor… Would this just repeat?

He was just going to get locked in the brig for everyone’s safety, if that was how things would go from now on. He’d been there before.

Had for most of the war, really.

“Some of the old code has activated,” Ratchet responded at length. “I was unsuccessful in turning it off or isolating it without bringing Sunstreaker into nonfunctionality as a side effect.”

Nice to know Ratchet had decided to keep him functional.

“So this is going to repeat?” Prowl asked sharply, his frown deepening. Both him and Sunstreaker were staring at Ratchet intently.

But the medic shook his helm. “Not necessarily. It does make it more likely, but he’ll still need a significant trigger to cause the final cascade of errors.”

Prowl mused on that for a moment before he shifted his attention back to Sunstreaker. “What triggered you this time?”

...Right. Wouldn’t they love to know.

“I was thinking about the fight with Megatron while Sideswipe and I sparred,” Sunstreaker answered, and that was half true, wasn’t it? “I think remembering the glitching triggered it again. At least it felt like that.”

Prowl looked at Ratchet for confirmation. The medic shrugged. “Perfectly plausible.”

The tactician nodded sharply. “Sunstreaker, I will keep you in full duty once your repairs are completed. I would prefer if you spent the next month in the brig when you aren’t on duty or away from the Ark, but I won’t enforce that.”

Sunstreaker frowned, but that was fair enough considering the number he’d done on several of his comrades. “I can do that,” he agreed. Partial loss of freedom, then. “I assume I’ll get my supplies?”

“Of course.”

Nice. But, “What about a punishment?” There was no way Prowl would let him off the hook that easily, if only because the other crew members would start a fucking riot if he wasn’t punished for nearly offlining a bunch of them, mitigating factors be damned.

“I will think of something suitable and inform you later,” Prowl said with an incline of his helm. Sunstreaker nodded his acceptance of that. So, hang around in the brig for the time being until he’d proven he wasn’t going to snap every few moments, and wait until Prowl came up with an actual punishment on top of that.

Pretty mild, all things considered.

“If that’s all..?” Prowl asked, glancing between him and Ratchet. Sunstreaker shook his helm.

“I’ll comm. you if something comes up,” Ratchet grunted. Prowl nodded to that before he left the room, the door closing on his heels.

And then it was just him and Ratchet, and that wasn’t how Sunstreaker would have preferred it when Ratchet immediately brought up the one thing Sunstreaker didn’t want to talk about at all. “This is about the sparkling, isn’t it?”

Sunstreaker glared, but Ratchet only frowned back at him.

For the longest time neither of them said anything, Sunstreaker refusing to confirm or deny a damn thing, and Ratchet’s field growing more frustrated by the second.

The medic eventually broke the silence. “Medical confidentiality, Sunstreaker. You can tell me, and no one else will hear about it. Why won’t you trust me?” Ratchet didn’t say it, but it still hung between them: like you have before.

They’d told many, many things to Ratchet, things they hadn’t spoken about with anyone else, because Ratchet would keep quiet. They’d trusted he would keep quiet.

Just… Not about this.

This was too big.

Sunstreaker averted his optics and said nothing. The silence stretched on, and on, and on, but this was one thing he’d never tell to any Autobot.

It would come to light eventually, anyway. It was just a matter of time.

So what did it matter if he sped up the process? Told someone?

No. He couldn’t do that. Pits, he was fragged either way, but he couldn’t do that.

Let time do it for him if it had to.

Ratchet gave up after what felt like an eternity, sighing heavily, and Sunstreaker could feel his hurt no matter how he tried to hide it. “Okay,” the medic said quietly before he straightened himself and brushed it all aside and away. “I will put you into stasis until I’ve done your repairs.”

Sunstreaker nodded, Ratchet plugged in, and stasis it was.

Again.

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

If he had been ostracized for his bad attitude before, now everyone did so twice as hard. It was vexing, but he wasn’t surprised the vast majority of them would react like that to his rather extreme burst of violence. The Autobots were soft, feebleminded things that didn’t speak the same language he and Sideswipe did.

The lot of them had never been to the Pits and back.

And they feared what they didn’t understand.

Megatron had said it. Where Sunstreaker could only feel apathy when it came to his case of insanity, and where Sideswipe just accepted it as it was, his comrades were afraid of it.

Megatron wasn’t. Megatron had fought him, a berserker going berserk, and once he’d won… He had shown no hard feelings. Had only acknowledged the return of his faculties, left it at that. Like it was no big deal.

Was that the overarching theme among all the Decepticons? Most of them originated from the low castes, knew what the life at the bottom was like—if they weren’t straight up gladiators themselves.

Would they understand?

He continued to be tetchy, but while he was sure everyone expected him to snap at any moment, he didn’t feel that level of stress.

At least, so long as he didn’t think too hard about the mess his fragging life had become. Ratchet’s threat hung over everything he did. Even if he’d had some hope of keeping the identity of the sparklet’s sire a secret even once it became impossible to hide he was carrying… That wouldn’t be if Ratchet found out about Megatron.

Sixteen months. That was how long he could pretend his life was fine.

After that… Slag if he knew.

And he had no fragging clue what he expected to happen or what he even wanted Megatron to do about it, but he wanted to inform him of Ratchet’s threat. Just… Pits.

Why?

Because Megatron was the only one who was even halfway an ally in this situation? The only one who even knew? Well, him, and Soundwave. Soundwave knew too. Maybe some other Decepticons too. How could he be sure Megatron saw any reason to keep it to himself?

How sad was that, that the goddamn leader of the enemy army had become his confidant.

The worst enemy of his own leader.

He was going all over behind Optimus’ back. What was some more of that, huh?

They started to take the longer patrols again. No one really questioned it, just happy when Sunstreaker wasn’t grumping around the Ark—and Prowl approved of his supposed attempt to burn out his energy with the long ass drives.

The less he had of that, the less likely he was to bring some more pain on his fellows, right?

But for the longest time, it just didn’t work. Megatron had said they’d be in contact again, but there was absolutely no sign of him even as the days stretched to weeks, and weeks into a full month.

And then there were only fifteen months left for him.

Two more weeks, and he was ready to fucking explode every moment he spent awake. Sideswipe did his best to keep his mood from souring any further, but there was only so much even his twin was capable of.

He didn’t glitch again, though, even if it was a damn near thing a few times. But Sideswipe dragged him from the scene every time, shoved him in their quarters—distracted him.

Month and a half, then they finally got some results. Not in the exact way they were hoping for, but when Soundwave’s signature popped up on their scanners, some ways ahead of them… Frag, it was better than nothing.

So they sped up until they could see the telepath standing on the side of the road, looking their way already.

Waiting for them.

“Where’s Megatron?” Sunstreaker demanded as soon as he and Sideswipe had transformed, stalking towards the blue mech that, to his credit, didn’t back down.

“Megatron: busy,” Soundwave answered. A thunderous growl rose in Sunstreaker’s engine.

“I’m carrying that bastard’s slagging sparkling and he’s too damn busy to show up?” What the fuck?

“Megatron: leader of an army,” and how Soundwave managed to make that mechanical voice of his sound cold, Sunstreaker would never know.

But clearly Soundwave wasn’t too impressed with his attitude. “Soundwave sent instead,” the TIC continued. Sunstreaker threw his arms up.

“So I should be grateful?”

“Yes.”

...Well, he wasn’t expecting that level of bluntness. The brothers blinked at Soundwave before Sunstreaker shook himself off and started to pace back and forth in front of the Decepticon. Soundwave wasn’t Megatron, but Soundwave knew, and it appeared Megatron had sent him for the explicit purpose of–

Actually, come to think of it, how the pit had either Megatron or Soundwave known he had something urgent enough on his mind that it was worth it to just send Soundwave?

“Soundwave: knows all.”

Was that a fucking joke?

“You!” Sunstreaker rounded on the taller mech, jabbing a digit at his chest. “Stay the frag out of my head!”

“No.”

Oh my god.

Sideswipe laughed out loud, prompting Sunstreaker to snap at him too before he went back to pacing around, glowering at the blue mech all the while. “At least slagging wait for me to talk like a normal mech. Seriously.”

Soundwave said no more, so Sunstreaker took that as the telepath’s acquiescence.

No doubt Soundwave knew exactly what was going on in his head already, but he did actually stay silent for the duration it took for Sunstreaker to organize his thoughts enough to put them into words. There were a few false starts, but then, “Ratchet wants to know who the slag the sparkling’s sire is,” Sunstreaker ground out. “He gave us sixteen months before he’s gonna check the spec ops records for ‘Con signatures. And that was six weeks ago.” So, fourteen and a half months anymore.

“Desired course of action?” Soundwave asked.

And if Sunstreaker had known the answer to that, he’d be one happy mech.

But he didn’t, so he stopped in his pacing and dragged both of his servos down his beautiful fragging faceplates. “I don’t slagging know, okay? The sparkling’s signature is gonna become scannable around that time too, right? So someone else might realize who the sire is too. And even if that doesn’t happen, I’ve got no faith in Ratchet being allowed to keep it a secret.”

He could see Soundwave slowly nodding from the corner of his optic. Mech probably knew more about the Autobot code than he did. Soundwave knows all, was it?

So was that confirmation that the identity of the sparkling’s sire would override medical confidentiality?

Sunstreaker’s shoulders slumped. There was no good ending to this, was there?

“Defect?” Soundwave said—asked, offered? Sunstreaker dropped his servos to properly glare at the mech.

“No,” he snarled. Frag it all but he wasn’t going to just defect because of this.

Even if his days as an Autobot were most likely numbered. If nothing else, he was sure to get dishonorably discharged once the command learned about this whole damn mess.

And that was really the best outcome he could realistically hope for. The other options went downhill from there.

Soundwave didn’t argue like Megatron likely would have. He merely nodded again. “Soundwave: will relay information to Megatron.”

“Thanks,” Sunstreaker said and Sideswipe nodded along. At least Megatron would be in the know.

What the slag he would do with the info, Sunstreaker just didn’t know.

And all of this after he couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Leader of an army yeah yeah, but he had slagging gotten him pregnant. Wasn’t that pretty important too?

Soundwave probably heard those thoughts too, but he didn’t say anything about it. “This all?” he asked instead.

Sunstreaker gave it a few seconds of honest thought because who knew when the frag the next time he’d have any line of communication with Megatron would be, but he came up empty. “Yeah,” he responded with a small shrug. “That’s all.”

Soundwave nodded, ejected Lazerbeak, and transformed. Lazerbeak had a glance at them before he grabbed Soundwave into his claws and… Flew off.

Some way to get transported around, geez.

The twins stared after the retreating wannabe vulture for a while before Sideswipe walked over to his side. His brother was still pulsing amusement and Sunstreaker glared at him too for good measure.

But there was really nothing for them to do now, except wait and see what would happen—on any front, be it coming from Ratchet, or Megatron.

Slagging Megatron who sent his goddamn third in command in his place because he had more important things to do than give the time of day to Sunstreaker.

Who was carrying his fragging sparkling.

Oh, the damn mech would hear about that still.

Sideswipe snickered at him before they transformed and continued on their patrol, never to report the ‘Decepticon activity’ they’d already run into.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #soundwave #ratchet #prowl #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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elitaxne · 6 years

Note

I really love your drabbles about the twins... could I pretty please ask for one? It can be whatever you want (ㆁᴗㆁ✿) thank youuuuuuuu

❛ WHAT’S MOST IMPORTANT ❜

♔. }

❝ Can you come play NOW…? ❞ Cephei asked, voice trailing off into a sing-song tone she had recently picked up; a ploy to try and persuade her Creators, weaponized cuteness. Clever femmeling, already had a persuasive mind just like her Carrier — and a long future in politics should that avenue be explored.

❝ Apologies, one moment, Senator— ❞ Elita murmured, turning in her chair to glance down at the purple femmeling patting her leg. ❝ Not right now, Little Light. Mama has to work, ❞ she answered quietly, thoughts distracted with the current conversation on hold with the Tarn Senator, than with her daughter. Turning back to her mounted console she unmuted the call, picking up where they had left off.

Cephei refused to relent, spindly digits spreading over the side of Elita’s thigh as a sturdy point of contact, large cerulean hues staring upwards to her Carrier pleadingly. ❝ But yowr ALWAYS workin’… ❞ she whined, lowering her helm to rest her chin on the top of Elita’s thigh. Every night this week her Carrier had come home from work late and then spent the rest of the evening in their home office. And while Cephei and her brother loved spending time with Papa, they wanted to spend time with Mama too.

❝ Cephei, Sweetspark, Mama is on a call right now, ❞ Elita started, turning away from the console to again face her daughter. Even seated Elita TOWERED over the bitlet, thus she lowered her top half to meet halfway, lessening the space between them. ❝ Go play with Papa — please? ❞ she asked, glancing back to the awaiting Senator on the screen.

❝ I don’t wanna play wif Papa — I wanna play wif YOU, ❞ Cephei pleaded, same sweet sing-song voice returning, but despite her best efforts her Carrier wasn’t having it.

❝ Brightspark, I already told you not right now. Mama is working, ❞ Elita cooed, giving a gentle pat to her daughter’s backplates, hoping that would be enough for her to give in, but, she was sorely mistaken. Both twins had inherited their Creator’s stubbornness, the trait now manifested in full since they had started speaking full sentences.

❝ Please? You promised… ❞ Cephei whined, taking hold of Elita’s servo and giving it as strong a tug her little frame could muster.

The fuchsia femme vented sharply, patience wearing thin with the Tarn Senator still muted and waiting on the console. ❝ What have I said about whining? ❞ Elita reprimanded, wiggling her servo free from the skinny and weak hold, ❝ Mama has to work right now. Go play with Papa. ❞

❝ But yowr ALWAYS workin’ !! ❞ Cephei groaned, taking a step back to glower at the Councillor, purple plating flared angrily on the brink of an emotional outburst.

❝ Sweetspark, you are trying Mama’s patience. Please go play with Papa? I will come join you as soon as I am done, ❞ Elita murmured, putting her years in politics to use in an effort to reason with the femme.

Cephei stamped her pede on the ground, optics burning up to inherited cerulean hues. ❝ NO. Yowr LYIN’. That’s what you said lass time !! ❞ she huffed, pointing a digit accusingly up at her Carrier, EM Field prickling in blatant defiance.

Glancing back to the Senator watching on with some amusement Elita could feel her Energon starting to boil. The ‘No’ phase had been reached and quickly became a pain in both her and Optimus’ afts as of late. Yesterday it was Cygnus, today, it was Cephei. Tomorrow? The both of them.

❝ Cephei— ❞ Elita said sharply, quiet but still forceful, ❝ Enough. Please, this is a very important call. I will not ask again. ❞ Ridges narrowed and a stern, authoritative expression took over, the military Commander not quite dead and gone as most assumed.

Cephei conceded and took a step back, never liking when Mama gave her such a look. Elita turned back to the console, taking the Senator off mute and promptly returning to the conversation. The femmeling stood in place a moment more, spark pulsing HEAVILY in its casing as she finally trudged away to the door. Slipping through the small opening she came to stand in the hall, glancing over to Cygnus who had been waiting surprisingly patiently outside, toy in servo.

❝ Mama’s not comin’? ❞ he asked brokenly, reaching up to clutch at his chestplates with his free servo. His sister’s spark hurt, making HIS spark hurt. And by that alone he knew the answer.

Cephei shook her helm with a deflating ex-vent, large cerulean hues noticeably dimmed. ❝ She’s still workin’… ❞ she sighed, not bothering to mask how upset she was. Her twin already knew, he was disappointed too.

Cygnus looked down to the yellow toy car in his hold, turning it over with a frown. Mama was always busy lately. Papa was too but at least they got to spend time with him when they came home, he’d take them down to the courtyard to play, give them evening Energon, read them stories and tuck them in for recharge. Mama would come by later to tell them good night, but it wasn’t the same. It was as though she didn’t WANT to be with them, at least, that was how it felt. They knew both her and Papa were important and had important jobs, but they didn’t understand, not entirely. Whatever it was they did… couldn’t it wait?

❝ Let’s go, ❞ Cygnus grumbled, reaching over to take his twin’s servo. ❝ Papa said he would play wif us if Mama was still busy… ❞

Cephei pulled from her brother’s hold angrily, tiny lip plates formed in a pout. Glossy hues looked over to meet identical cerulean staring back. She didn’t want to play with Papa. She wanted to be with Mama. Her mind was made up and nothing would change it.

❝ Cee-fee… ❞ Cygnus pleaded, holding the car out to her. ❝ Look. You can be the yellow one, ❞ he added, shaking the toy in hopes of sweetening the deal.

Cephei shook her helm, trudging over to the wall and pressed her backplates against the polished metal, slowly letting herself slide down and sit on the ground. If she had to wait all night for Mama to come out, then she would. Cygnus ex-vented and after a nanosecond followed suit. They would wait for Mama together, besides, he wanted to see her just as much.

Meanwhile —

❝ Are you sure you can speak now? ❞ the Senator asked, searching the space behind Elita as though looking for Cephei.

Elita waved her servo, trying her best to ignore the ACHE in her spark. ❝ Yes, now is fine. Shall we continue? ❞ she said, scrolling through the data pad.

❝ Very well. Measure C, I think we should… ❞ the Senator continued, the words filling Elita’s audials yet none of it registered, thoughts adrift inside her processors, far, far away.

The past few weeks had been extremely busy for her lately, new proposals, new measures, and constituent elections right around the corner. The entire Council had been working double-time to try and put into motion as many policies as they could before the Senator and Chancellor roles would be shuffled. Lobbying at the Towers had become her second past time, and most nights she returned home with her voice barely in tact. If she did come home at a reasonable hour it was straight to the home office, locking herself away to pour over even more work, leaving only to say good night to the twins, but most times, they had already slipped into recharge when she got there.

It broke her spark not being with them, not seeing them aside from in the morning and then again at night, both times they were usually asleep. They had grown so much already, and would only continue to do so, their infantile years fast fleeting as they approached maturity enough to attend Educational Centres. Then, she wouldn’t see them as much either — they would be in school all day rather than accompanying her and Optimus to the Towers. Her spark tugged in its casing, optics staring vacantly at a spot on the desk with a distant expression; obviously lost in her own world.

❝ Councillor? ❞ the Senator cut in, finally garnering Elita’s attention, who straightened in an instant.

❝ Apologies, Senator, ❞ Elita sighed, reaching up to rub at weary optics. ❝ It has been a long day, though, that is no excuse for my lack of attention… ❞ her voice trailed off, tinted lip plates pressing in a thin line. Cerulean hues flickered back to the Senator on the screen, and before the other femme could say more Elita continued.

❝ Could we continue tomorrow morning? ❞ Elita asked, and the Senator simply nodded.

❝ Of course. I will have my Assistant contact yours, ❞ she replied with a knowing smile.

Elita nodded thankfully, giving a quick but gracious sign off before the channel cut and screen filled with black. No sooner had the call ended was Elita up and out of her chair, hurrying to the door and sliding it open manually. Crossing the threshold she caught two pairs of cerulean hues in her peripherals, gazes meeting to find the bitlets seated on the ground, legs splayed in front of them. Her spark swelled in its casing and she lowered herself to sit on the ground as well, joints popping and plating hissing as per usual. Cephei and Cygnus simply watched, unsure exactly what to think.

❝ I have not been very good at being a Mama lately, have I? ❞ Elita asked softly, EM Field gently swirling to mingle with that of her kin, assuring them there was no anger or malice to her question. The twins optics averted, small helms shaking after a moment. Vents sighed, expelling a slow trickle of air past fuchsia plates.

❝ You awe-ways say you will play wif us… then you never do… ❞ Cygnus mumbled, holding the yellow car close to his chassis with a frown.

❝ You awe-ways lie, ❞ Cephei spoke up in place of her brother, finishing his thought out loud.

The Councillor’s optics dimmed fascia falling to wear a similar frown. ❝ I do, don’t I? ❞ she said, holding out her arms with another gentle pulse in the fading familial-bond. ❝ Come here, Brightsparks… ❞

Cygnus and Cephei each pulled from the ground and walked over eagerly, allowing their tiny frames to be scooped up and held close to fuchsia chestplating. The cool comfort of her touch and sweet scent spilled over them almost immediately, and they curled closer still on instinct. Elita held them there, placing gentle kisses to each helm as vents sighed again.

❝ I owe you both an apology, ❞ Elita started, peering down to the two sets of cerulean hues already staring back up, infantile faceplates still sad and dejected. ❝ I have been placing work ahead of everything else, and in doing so I have hurt you both. And for that, I am very sorry, ❞ she continued softly, pressing another kiss to each budding helm crest. ❝ You are the most important things in my life, and I have let work overshadow that fact. I promise, starting today, I am going to make a better effort to spend time with you — and while sometimes I WILL have to work late, I will try not to make a habit of it… ❞ Elita paused, nuzzling the small helms with hers before pulling back, ❝ Does that sound fair? ❞ she asked.

Cygnus and Cephei nodded, hugging what parts of her they could with all the strength at their disposal. Elita smiled, ❝ Can you forgive me? ❞ she asked again, kissing the tiny helms once more.

Quiet ‘Yes’s’ replied instantly and her hold around them tightened, spark pulses all settling in tandem, following the same rhythm they always did; keeping them connected even if the bonds had ebbed. Elita closed her optics, relishing the gentle puffs of air against her frame, spindly digits clinging to her plating, and the warmth of their tiny frames so close to hers.

❝ I love you both so much, ❞ Elita whispered, ❝ With all my spark. ❞

Cygnus buried his helm in her nack cabling, just as Cephei did on the opposite side, the both of them speaking in unison. ❝ I love you too, Mama. ❞

The words met her audials as the sweetest song one could ever hear, and an instant smile spread over her features, holding the twins a moment more before looking back down to them with a glint in her optics. ❝ Shall we go play now? ❞ she cooed, giving both small frames a slight bounce.

Resounding ‘Yes’s’ again filled her audials along with muted squeals, purple and burgundy frames each wriggling in excitement. FINALLY. Elita hummed quietly, kissing their helms as she carried the down the hall and to the stairs leading them to the ground floor, close to her spark.

Just as she had done since before they even onlined.

#[ since you asked so nicely :'3 ]#[ i hope you like it nonnie !! ]#— · ♔ » ┊ ❛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ·s ᴍᴏsᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ❜「 ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ 」#╰ ♔ ·｡ ┊ ғɪғᴛʏ sʜᴀᴅᴇs ᴏғ ɢʀᴇʏғᴀᴄᴇs ○「 ᴀɴᴏɴ 」#╰ ♔ ·｡ ┊ ᴅᴜʟʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇᴅ ○「 ᴀsᴋʙᴏx 」#( NPC. ) CYGNUS #( NPC. ) CEPHEI

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sparkflowerblue · 6 years

Text

tarn’s a weird emotional cryptid

[discord log of the keeping up with the skywalkers au w/ @flameofnyon]

ur a princess rodimus: Coming back from non-existence was disorienting, to say the least. Rodimus was separated from the group that had been with him on the Rod Pod. Hell, the Rod Pod itself was gone and Rodimus was stranded. He didn't know if anyone else was back yet - he'd sent out a comm, but hadn't gotten any answers yet. This was the worst part - not knowing if his crew, his friends, his family was out there. He really had no choice but to wait and wonder until someone answered. He'd keep trying the comms until then. "Rodimus to any Lost Light crew, come in. Repeat, any member of the Lost Light, this is your captain speaking, please respond."

darth tank: The comm was probably an accident, because he definitely was not Lost Light crew. Tarn considered not answering for awhile, before he gave in to the inevitable. ::Rodimus Prime. Coordinates attached.:: He'd meet him in person, just to see how he was.

ur a princess rodimus: Rodimus gave a start at the response. The voice on the comm was definitely not anyone he recognized. Not to say he knew every mech on his ship personally and could tell each of their voices from the next, but he'd definitely remember a voice that that. And no one on his ship ever called him 'Prime'. So clearly, this was not one of his crew. But curiosity always got the better of him and Rodimus acknowledge the comm and headed for the coordinates provided. They weren't far and it didn't take long for him to drive there. Returning to his root mode, Rodimus stood tall and with the air of confidence he took when he didn't want anyone to know he was uncertain of his decision. "Got your response. Show yourself, whoever you are."

darth tank: Tarn shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before he finally stood from where he'd been tucked down behind some old debris. "Rodimus Prime." He straightened slightly, stepping out and forward, though he at least tried to be slightly less intimidating than he knew he was. "You're alive, then."

ur a princess rodimus: Rodimus, to his credit, didn't back down when Tarn revealed himself. He knew who he was - hadn't he just seen footage of the DJD at work during Megatron's trial? Who didn't know who Tarn was at this point? He wasn't going to let the mech terrify him, though, and he stood straighter still. "Takes more than my ship disappearing to kill me."

darth tank: Tarn inclined his head slightly. "So it seems." He was careful tp keep any emotion out of his voice, lifting his head again to study the smaller bot. He hadn't seen him in--since the beginning of the war, really. He'd still been a baby. He had no idea what he was like, and that was a little nerve wracking. "Loking for your crew, then?"

ur a princess rodimus: "What's it to you?" Rodimus asked. He put his hands on his hips, optics narrowed slightly. He could tell Tarn was studying him and he wasn't sure he liked this. Tarn, infamous leader of the Decepticon murder squad, stood in front of him and he wasn't being ripped to pieces. "Where's the rest of your merry murderers, Tarn?"

darth tank: Treads twitched in response to the question. "Off murdering, probably. We're in Galactic Council territory, they're probably having a grand time." He'd rather they didn't, but it meant they were not here, where Rodimus and his crew would be reappearing. "Looking to join them?"

ur a princess rodimus: Well, if the rest of the DJD was busy with the council, then Rodimus didn't have to worry about them going after his crew. That was somewhat of a relief. Rodimus wasn't about to relax though; he'd heard the rumors that Tarn was the most dangerous of the DJD, with a voice that could snuff out a spark with just the right tone. Which made him a little uneasy about holding a conversation with the mech, but at the same time, Tarn was giving off no indication that he was going to kill him. Which Rodimus found very strange. "The only ones I'm joining is my crew, as soon as they're all back together. Sorry to disappoint if you were thinking you needed a new mech on board with your murder-y boy band."

darth tank: "No, I think all the slot are full. We're a five mech group, you'll notice." He relaxed slowly, leaning back against the largest bit of debris behind him. "I don't suppose First Aid is on your crew now? Delphi's been abandoned, it seems. I don't suppose you know the story behind that, do you?"

ur a princess rodimus: Rodimus narrowed his optics at Tarn again at the mention of his brother's name. He knew from what he'd been told about Delphi that Tarn had been... nice to First Aid and it made him even more suspicious of the mech in front of him. What did Tarn want with his brother? "First Aid's with us, yes. A couple of my crew rescued him and Ambulon from Delphi. That's all you need to know, as far as I'm concerned."

darth tank: "Ah. Good, then he isn't dead." He was relieved to hear that; he'd seen the corpses, the rust plague riddling their bodies, from the entrance where someone had smashed into the clinic, but avoided going inside to be sure he wouldn't get infected himself. A bot they'd had on hand had been made to go inside, in fact, to be certain it was empty, then shot before he could return and possibly infect them. "I wondered, after the bodies."

ur a princess rodimus: "You're oddly invested in both Aid and I being alive," Rodimus noted. He boldly moved forward, approaching Tarn and looking up at him - Tarn was much taller than he was, but Rodimus wasn't about to back down from that. He wasn't scared of Tarn at this point. In fact, he was curious why Tarn wasn't killing him, why he was so invested in both First Aid and himself. "For a mech with a reputation for death, you're glad Aid and I aren't. What's up with that, Tarn?"

darth tank: He leaned back slightly, shrugging. A supremely odd motion for someone like Tarn. "Does it matter why I'm interested?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I liked the little medic. He was... very talented." Understatement, but he was proud of Aid. "Can't I be pleased someone with talent is alive?"

ur a princess rodimus: "Explain why you're so interested in me, then. Aid, I get. He's always been the better one of us." Rodimus wasn't bitter about it, like he was with other mechs better than him - notably Thunderclash - he was just as proud of his brother as their guardians had been. "Me, I'm just the loud mouth, hot headed, wannabe Prime. Why should the leader of the DJD be glad I'm alive? Shouldn't you be disappointed that Megatron's shot to my spark wasn't the end of me?"

darth tank: Tarn's hands clenched at that, before he forced them to uncurl. "Don't assume you have any idea what I should think," he stated finally. "There's a lot you don't know or understand, Hot Rod." He shifted away from him, looking around to see if they were still alone. "Things you can't know."

ur a princess rodimus: Rodimus tensed at his old name. "Don't ever call me that." He'd left that name behind, wanting a fresh start with a new name that gave him a better sense of the mech he wanted to be and less of the screw up who'd trusted the wrong mechs, made the wrong decisions. "My name is Rodimus. "

darth tank: He gave him a long look, before he huffed softly. "Hot Rod was the name you were given," he muttered, more to himself. "Rodimus, then. It doesn't change anything."

ur a princess rodimus: He hated 'Hot Rod'. It reminded him of Nyon, of Ki Aleta, of stupid Dealer and the spark break he suffered because he'd trusted the wrong mech. "It changed everything. I've got another chance to be better than I ever was as Hot Rod and I'm taking it."

darth tank: Tarn sighed. "If you say so." He stepped away, turning away from Rodimus. "Regardless, don't assume I was glad when I was told you'd been killed by Megatron."

ur a princess rodimus: "Why not?" Rodimus wasn't going to let this go. "Who am I to you that you care whether I live or die? Why are you so interested in me and my brother?" It wasn't common knowledge that he and First Aid were brothers. Outside of the crew of the Lost Light, who were still surprised by the news, that was. Perhaps he shouldn't have let it slip now, but he had the distinct feeling that Tarn already knew. "The only other people who care that much about us are our dads. So who are you?"

darth tank: "The mech Megatron promised your death to." It was, technically true. He'd pleaded and begged for vorns before Megatron had finally declared Rodimus--Hot Rod--Tarn's kill. It had been the only way he could think to guarantee that no one else killed Hot Rod, who had joined the front lines by then. Even more so when he joined the Wreckers.

ur a princess rodimus: "So you are going to kill me." Rodimus still wasn't scared of Tarn. There was just - - some odd sense that Tarn was no danger to him. If Tarn was going to kill him, wouldn't he have done it a long time ago? It made no sense. No more sense than what First Aid had said about Tarn feeling safe to him at Delphi. When Rodimus thought about it, really thought about it, there was something familiar about Tarn's voice that he just couldn't place.

darth tank: "I didn't say that. I said your death was promised to me. I said nothing about taking it." He paused. "I heard Megatron defected to the Autobots and was placed on your ship. Is it true?"

ur a princess rodimus: So what was Tarn's deal? Rodimus studied him for a moment before carefully answering his question. "It's true. He defected and he's on trial. We're taking him to be judged. Optimus decided it was best to put him on the ship, gave him the position of captain. Which he shares with me, despite what he thinks."

darth tank: Tarn snorted. "He's always been talented at getting what he wanted, Pax. Even when he didn't have the authority to want it." He straightened abruptly. "Be wary of Megatron. He has a way with words, and spinning webs. You may be captain but it won't take long for him to turn your crew against you and place himself in power, make them look to him to solve every problem he lays at your feet."

ur a princess rodimus: "I'm already wary of Megatron, thank you very much. He raises his voice and I fully expect to be shot again." Even though the fusion cannon had been melted down, it wouldn't surprise Rodimus if Megatron got his hands on a weapon and killed him. He half expected Megatron to relapse and show his true Decepticon colors. "I'm surprised you aren't threatening to use me to get to Megatron, if I'm honest. He defect, declared the Decepticons disbanded, and ended the war. That's gotta sting."

darth tank: He scowled behind his mask, pointedly not looking at him. "Would it work?" he asked, blandly. "Taking yopu prisoner and demanding they give me Megatron in exchange? It's unlikely, you know. I know my former lord and master. He would simply tell them that you were already dead. Tarn doesn't make trades, you see. I might promise to return you unharmed but I'd just kill you once Megatron was in my hands. That's how the DJD works. He would know, he wrote the rules."

ur a princess rodimus: "Worth a shot." Rodimus shrugged. "I mean, it's not like they're going to believe I had a conversation with you and survived, either. The DJD doesn't just let Autobots go. Except apparently for me and First Aid." Again, he didn't think it was coincidence that he and his brother were the exceptions, but Tarn was being very evasive about the connections between the three of them.

darth tank: He scoffed quietly. "Just be careful of him. If he hurts you--" He paused. What, exactly, could he say? Megatron was still stronger than Rodimus. "Well, I'm sure you know what to do if he does. Anyway, I have things to do, a team to corral."

ur a princess rodimus: "If he hurts me, I have a security team ready to take him out." Just because Megatron was his co-captain didn't mean their security team wasn't on orders to keep an eye on him. So far, Megatron wasn't looking to hurt anyone - hell, he'd even passed up knocking Whirl out when the ex-Wrecker had needled him. "I'd say keep in touch, but I'm not sure either of us particularly want to."

darth tank: Tarn couldn't stop the laugh at that. "Well, I'm sure you wouldn't, at least."

ur a princess rodimus: "Oh, does Tarn, leader of the DJD, actually like talking to Rodimus, bane of Megatron's current existence?" Rodimus couldn't help the snarky comeback. He almost wanted to keep in touch, but it wouldn't exactly look good for him to be in contact with the DJD. "I'll give him your regards."

darth tank: "I'd rather you give them to Skids." He gestured, a vague sort of wave. "Goodbye, Rodimus."

ur a princess rodimus: "To Skids?" Rodimus wanted to question that, but Tarn made it clear the conversation was over and, coincidentally, his comms were going off - Magnus was trying to contact him. He turned his back on Tarn to answer the comm, glad to hear his second's voice again.

darth tank: Tarn began striding away, not wanting to be there when the others came to find Rodimus. That'd cause a fight, for sure.

#spy au || keeping up with the skywalkers #theoreticiian #flameofnyon

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anonymous-human · 7 years

Note

Hello hello! Let's say a young human is with the (tfp) Autobots, very perky, optimistic, and overall helpful to the best they can be. But, as time goes on they are slowly becoming weaker and thinner. Eventually, human faints from exhaustion/poor health, leading the team to discover their friend has been homeless and poor(like, "ketchup soup"/" grave of the fireflies" poor) the whole time, they've just been very good at keeping it hidden.

(I’m sorry if the characters are OOC :’). I tried. also, I’m super sorry if i stereotyped the s/o. AND I’m super-DUPER sorry, I’ve never actually fainted or have been thin [I’M UGLY AND I’M PROU D] ALSO THIS WAS SUPER-DUPER LATE AND I’M REALLLLLLLLY SORRY ABOUT THAT!!!!! Thanks for the request though! it was fun to write!)

Optimus

Optimus respects you happiness. To be optimistic during a war, even if you never experienced it or have not lost as many friends and family has he has, in his free time he will tell you about his past experiences during the war.

To be able to make your eyes light up and a smile to play on your face as he tells you about the successful missions and the frown and as your eyebrows furrow on your face as he tells you of failures. He finds it so nice of you to know that he care, but moments like that re rare, since he’s always so busy.

It wasn’t until nurse Darby pointed it out on one of her visits that you were getting increasingly thinner did Optimus start to notice. Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to think of something to say. “I-I… Uhm… no, I have been eating enough, don’t worry!” which was a half lie. You had eaten- out of a garbage can, that is -but not enough to be a meal.

The day you fainted, you seemed to be as chipper as usual, but you felt your eyes drop every once in awhile and it was just kinda noticed, but not talked about. You were much quieter and was on the couch with the kids 80% of the time.

It was when Optimus said it was getting late you nodded and stood up, smile still painted on your face.

“Y/n?” Optimus worriedly asked you. You stopped and looked up. “Are you ill?” he asked. You shook your head.

“No, I’m perfectly fine,” you reassured. Your walk was slow and uneven, Optimus watched as you walked down the steps. On that final dreaded step, you finally tipped over. Optimus was just in time to catch you as you fell.

When you woke back up, you were in a hospital bed all the kids were there with nurse Darby had asked what the hell you were thinking? Eating little to nothing? Do you have a death wish or something?! She thought you were an anorexic on purpose.

You break down then and there right in front of them all. It was the first time they actually saw you crying. You explained everything, that you were homeless and living alone. You shook and balled into your hands as you apologized for keeping such a secret that from them and just wanting to not put your burden on anyone other than yourself.

They forgave you, and nurse Darby could no longer be mad at you.

You were in the hospital for a week,(or until darby thought you were clean and fed enough to leave.)

When you go back to base, Optimus gets on his knee to get closer to your height. He’s disappointed in himself for not realizing before. For not realizing how serious it really is. He tells you how much he loves you and how much he doesn’t want you gone. He offers if you want to stay at the base. In which you accept and you do the hand-hug thing.

Every day, Nurse Darby sends Jack to the base with for the four of you humans, so that’s how your fed.

Optimus allows you to sleep on the couch, but if you want to he will let you sleep with him. He doesn’t move so you can sleep on his chest. He’s warm af btw, you don’t need a blanket.

Ratchet

Ratchet is one of those old people who tell happy-for-no-reason people to stop smiling (like the old man who taught Hana how to farm in Wolf Children. 10/10 recommended movie btw) but, that’s kinda what got you attracted to him. He was suffering from earth technology and always grumpy, and you helped him by brightening the room for him.

He had always noticed you were thin but never said much about it because he didn’t understand anything about the human body.

Ratchet just kinda shrugged off the lie you had told nurse Darby. At that time he had hoped you weren’t lying.

You were noticeably tired that day you fainted, and Ratchet noticed. He had asked you earlier if you were okay and if you had gotten enough sleep the night before.

He had his back turned in the second you fainted.

The others were there too, so everyone watched as you dropped in slow motion. Ratchet was quick to turn around when he did, he caught you.

Ratchet had this horrified look on his face as you blacked out. You called his name and reached out to him before everything went back. The thoughts going through his head were ‘what do I do?’

After the whole hospital scenario, when you finally got back to base, Ratchet felt bad for every time he had been a jerk.

He stood at the monitor (this imagine but you are standing alone up there) he was trying to decide what to say as you just started at each other. Soon he just leaned forward with a hand hug and nuzzled you against his faceplates. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t do anything,” he said, “I’m so, so sorry.” you scared his to death, and the news of you being homeless scared him even more! On Cybertron, if you were homeless you were most likely an unemployed starving beggar your entire life or you were abducted for money. If you were to survive you needed to steal.

You were given the option of staying with the Darby’s or Team Prime, in which you chose to stay with Team prime.

You share a hab with Ratch! Ratchet doesn’t move in his sleep, he just snores and/or mumbles that can sometimes turn to yelling. It’s bliss.

Bumblebee

When he notices your always happy, he gets happy, too. He loves that you enjoys games with him and Raf. He always had noticed you were getting thinner, when he had seen your ribs through your shirt he asked if you had eaten, which you replied, yes.

You tell the same lie to Darby, he beeps a sad beep.

He wondered where you lived since you had him pick you up and drop you off at the bus stop every day. When he followed you home, that’s when he found out. When you took shelter under a shop’s outside roof, he seemed so upset you didn’t tell him. When he got back to base he debated whether or not to tell Optimus.

When you fainted, he has so shocked he froze. Did you just up and DIE right in front of him!? Is this it? so abruptly!?!

When you’re gone at the hospital he has his hands on his helm and he’s freaking out because he knew and didn’t tell anyone! What kind of monster is he!

After the whole thing was over and you came back to base he picked you up carefully in his hand and told you “sorry, I knew! This could have been avoided!” and he babbled and babbled and you had to stop him and tell him you didn’t blame him.

This was just too much for him.

When you stay with team prime bee has you stay with him. He won’t lose you.

He moves in his sleep, so they end up finding a mattress for you with help.

Bulkhead

You had met him when you were sitting on the curb when you accidentally saw Bulk in action, so he had to take you back and since he found you, he was now in charge of both you and Miko. so she was jealous at first, but she got used to it and you became good friends

Bulkhead likes being around you in general, you over-happy aura makes his day.

Miko had actually found out before Bulkhead. Like Bee, she followed you home one night and caught you dumpster diving for food scraps. She gasped when she caught you and you snapped you head back to see her there. You made her promise never to tell anyone - not Optimus, not Jack or Raf, not even Bulkhead.

While Bulk was still blinded by your cheeky smile and happy aura, he treated you like a person. Like you were normal, and you liked that.

And he liked you, your smile your everything. That’s why he asked you out in the first place.

He took your side when nurse Darby had pointed out your thinness.

The day you pass out, you had passed out when you went to step out of his passenger seat that day, actually. Miko was with him and they got you back to base instead of a hospital.

When you woke up and broke down, admitting in front of everyone you were homeless, after everyone left, Bulk was the only one still there. He was so surprised, shocked really. He had been fooled by your everyday masquerade.

Now you stay at the base.

You share a hab with him but can’t sleep in the same berth. He shifts and when he sleeps.

Arcee

The combination of Jack being there for her and you and her being a thing has really helped her over her grief from the loss of her two partners.

That being said, you’ve made her a better person.

She’s more willing to help others now that she’s gotten over them.

And that means she likes spends more time with you!

One day she drops you off at your spot. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you all the way home?” she asks. You nod. “Yeah, don’t worry about me…” you got off her then toppled over on the pavement.

“Y/n?!”

She got Jack to call his mom for you to come bring you to the hospital. She needed Jack to be there to reassure her that you’d be okay because she thought she lost you. Another partner. A third partner!

*see Optimus’s when you wake up*

When you see Arcee again it’s back at base. She’s mad at you and told you, you should have told her. She loves you okay!

You stay at team primes base and share a hab with her. She’s someone who will sleep on the edge of the berth and then you wake up to them cuddling you.

Wheeljack

When you smile up at him he smiles right back down at you.

Your perky attitude is contagious and he wants to keep it that way.

He literally calls you Sunshine. It’s your pet name.

While flying in the jackhammer, Wheeljack finds you passed out on the outskirts of town at night, laying in an awkward position. So he landed, picked you up and bring you aboard.

When you wake up you are at the base in the med bay with nurse Darby and Wheeljack has a frown on his face as he leans against the wall, watching the nurse work. When he sees your eyes open he immediately smiles.

“Good morning sunshine~!” he says walking over, which June ignores.

When nurse lectures you about not eating enough, swallow your pride and breakdown. Apologizing for not getting help, and just wanting to not put your burden on anyone.

Jackie lays down next to you and rubs your back, he thought about whether to say anything but he didn’t.

You stay at Team Primes base for a while, but in the end, you end up going with Jackie in the Jackhammer, not to return to the base until the end of season 2.

Smokescreen

When you first meet he asks why you’re so thin compared to the other humans, which ruins the mood for everyone, but you still give the most optimistic answer you can.

Even after that, though, you end up becoming great friends, and later, conjunx.

When you passed out, you two were out driving around having a few laughs, you were drowsy that day, but still, the happy-loveable person you are, so it wasn’t all that different. When you said you felt weird, he asked if he should pull over when you eyes rolled in the back of your head and you passed out.

After the whole waking up in the hospital scenario, he was devastated, how do you sleep?!

He’s not excited that you didn’t tell him though. When June gets you food he makes sure you eats all of it, which isn’t healthy it eat a huge meal after you’ve almost starved.

Yeah, you sleep on team prime’s couch btw.

#optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #arcee #wheeljack #smokescreen #team prime #transformers prime #tfp #transformers headcanons #transformers #headcanons #tf #miko #jack #raf #;-;#i'm anonymous

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cybertronianlovenest · 7 years

Text

The bitch named Karma: Section 1

The bitch named Karma 4/3/16 Chilisha POV: I shook my head as I finally parted fully from my extinguished vessel. I had gotten very little notice this time around and it left me scrambling to pull together lose strings in the few days I’d gotten. Thankfully I’d just gotten everything set in time before being run over by a bus. It’s not fucking funny! Being human had really sucked and I was so ready to be something else for a while. Lucky for me, I had connections. ‘I’m out Wave. I assume you had a good reason for herding me into traffic.’ A prod over our bond let me know that he heard me as the blue hummer pulled away and drove off. ‘I thought maybe you’d be up for revenge. Megatron is going through a heat cycle currently. Soundwave would not be adverse to being your sparker. I miss having Melody scampering about. Jazz is welcome as well if Melody would like. It may be beneficial to have you both the same age, Soundwave doubts Melody will retain memories and it will be difficult since you’re bonded.’ I hadn’t really thought about it. It would be fun watching that fragger squirm when he found out he was carrying twins. I knew Wave would make sure he didn’t have us destabilized, and it would be nice to have Jazz with me. I reached out over my bond and poked him gently. He was recharging but I didn’t think he’d be that way for long. A few more light prods and he pushed back giddy happiness. 'Hey babe! Haven’t heard from ya in so long! What’s up!?’ As I thought, he was fully awake now. 'Missing you. I need to talk to you though. Wave just helped me from my vessel and offered to become our sparker. I was hoping you’d come with…’ He paused for a second. Apprehension and unease flickering in his field. 'Jazz?… You know if you don’t want to start over, its OK…’ He groaned and tugged me into his side of the bond so I could see Prowl sleeping next to him. 'Ah wanna come, and am going to. Ah just have to try and explain everything to Prowl… We got close Flames… Ah wanna make him like us…’ For a few long seconds I could just stand there. 'Flames?… Please don’t be mad. Ah still love ya!-’ 'I’m not mad Jazz. I just didn’t think after all this time you’d find someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to it at all. I wish I would have known sooner but I’m all in for Prowl joining us, as long as he is. Keep in mind though, this isn’t for everyone and he may not choose us. I will let you talk to him.’ 'Hey wait! Ya didn’t tell meh who our carriers gonna be.’ I smirked, this was the fun part. 'Soundwave is evil. Megatron is going through a heat cycle. Wave is gonna pick his processor until we’re too far along to get rid of. It’ll likely put a damper on, if not end the war. This could end very well for us. Then I don’t even have to kill him, I love the way Wave thinks!’ Jazz pushed along agreement and no small amount of love. 'Ah’ll talk to ya later lil lady. Hopefully Prowler takes the news ok.’ 'I hope so. I’m glad you like Prowl, I think he’ll do well.’ A bit more love was pushed at me and I returned it before dampening our bond to allow him privacy to speak with Prowl… Prowl POV: I tensed on an inward stretch as Jazz’s fingers traced soft lines over my doors. He always gave me the best wake up calls. “Ya awake Prowler? Need to talk…” He sounded up set and that chased away the last of my recharge. “What’s wrong Jazz?” I caught his helm turning it side to side, looking for any clue as to his sudden unease. “Ah love ya Prowl. Ah love ya so much… But ahm gonna have to go for a while.” I swallowed hard, trying to understand just what was going on. “You mean on a mission? I don’t recall Optimus giving any orders.” His optics finally met mine, after flicking around the floor for a while. “Ah mean like Flames… She just talked to meh. Said Soundwave is arranging to become our sparker. If we pull this off, we could very well end the war…” My spark felt really tight and cold. “Please don’t look at meh like that… Ya know how much ah love ya. That’s why ah gotta do this. If this works ya won’t have to fight anymore!” He grabbed my hands holding them to his chest as he looked at me. I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving, but I knew that if anyone could pull something like this off, it was him and my sister. Still. “What if it doesn’t? Who is he planning to have carry you?” He smiled a little, though one may be hard pressed to call it such. Maybe a grimace, would be a better term. “Megatron is going through a heat cycle. Sounders wants to knock him up. If it goes bad… How adverse would ya be to carrying twins?” My jaw dropped and he freed a hand to rub the back of his helm while giving me a sheepish grin. Finally my denta clicked together. “You best be bothering Megatron to the full extent first.” A nervous laugh escaped and he nodded. “Ah will! Promise! Just a back up plan for worst case. Ah really hate dropping this on ya so suddenly Prowler… Ah didn’t get much warning either though. Ah have a good feeling about this. Ah think we can change everything!” I really hoped he was right. I couldn’t stand to lose him altogether… Jazz POV: Well, this was it. I really hoped this worked because Prowl was going to have my aft if it didn’t. The battle was raging around us and it wouldn’t be too hard to get myself offlined. Megatron flew over helm and I growled, firing off a few shots at my perspective carrier. One hit and he swooped down, snatching me up. I could have avoided it but it was best to get it over with. 'Better know what yer talking about Flames!’ She poked me. 'I sure hope so. Come over here so you can’t feel it.’ She tugged me over into her side as I peppered Megatron with shots. “Ya wanna piece of meh!?” He snarled grabbing my legs and ripping until my body gave way. I was so glad Flames was keeping meh over there. All ah could feel was calm reassurance, flooding our bond. 'Over yet?’ 'Almost. Fragger ripped meh in half and tossed meh off a building. Don’t worry. Am sure he’ll make a wonderful mommy. Can’t wait to see what happens when one of us gets a tank ache and purges on him.’ She cracked up laughing as I landed with a huff. Thankfully things were fadding fast, I hadn’t fueled this morning so there wasn’t much in my tank to burn through after me and Prowl faced our way to near deactivation. Ratchet had not been pleased. 'Alright. Am out, am gonna go see Prowl. Then am coming for ya!’ She giggled madly before letting me free to go talk to our soon to be, newest member to the family. Prowl POV: Arms curled around me suddenly, pulling me back just in time to miss a blast. “Primus Jazz! I know your trying to get killed but I don’t want to be the one to do it!” He gave me a sad smile and kissed me. “Already done lover. Just wanted to say, see ya later one more time before going since it’ll be a few vorns then.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around him. It wouldn’t be easy to have him gone, but if he made this work. It would be worth it. “How did you offline?” He shrugged. “Meh would be carrier ripped meh in half, Flames kept meh on her side of the bond though, so I never felt anything but her love and assurance. Ah know it will be hard seeing meh like that. Just remember that ah never hurt, ahm excited to see how things go. Have to get going babe. Remember, ahm just fine, and ah’ll be back as soon as ah can. Probably won’t remember ya right away though, sorry about that.” I sighed, claiming one last kiss before letting him go. It would be hard without him, but I’d manage. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to carry if Megatron couldn’t fill the role… Chilisha POV: I smirked as Jazz jumped onto the ledge beside me. “Ya got the all spark! How did ya get the allspark!?” His jaw was nearly on the ground as he looked at it. “Please. Those thick helmed mechs are too busy fighting to realize their prize is already lost. This is going with a friend of mine until everything is settled.” I blinked at her though a human stepped up, taking it. “Um. Why are ya giving the allspark to a human?” “Azerack is not human. He’s from another dimension, and he’s taking the allspark there to keep it from both these guys until we see if we can get things settled. Till then. I believe we have a few hours we can be keeping each other busy until Wave gives us the go ahead. I want his predacon coding, freaking awesome!” Then I dove from the ledge, shifting forms into a dragon with Jazz following shortly after. He wouldn’t let me get far without him…. My back hit the ground, a chuckle sounding in my audio as my vision cut off. “Ya like that? Snagged it from meh frame before going. Couldn’t leave all meh goodies behind when ah knew ah’d be playing with ya.” My frame went lax suddenly, and I couldn’t move at all. “Gonna miss having mechapire coding. Makes meh so hot to see ya squirm under meh! Ya love it too… Look at ya, already so wet, lubricant is leaking down yer legs.” Something hot and wet ran over my thigh making me squeal. “Please! Jazz!” Another chuckle was my only answer as he shoved away my valve panel and dove into me. A hot glossa eating at me from the inside out until all I could do was lay there panting….. My frame felt like jello when I finally came online once more. “What?!” 'Finally. Melody is wasting time, Megatron is ready to break and you are not paying attention. Get yourself here before your chance is lost.’ I groaned, making Jazz look at me before finally standing on my admittedly shaky legs. “That was Soundwave. He’s going to fuck Megatron now so we need to be ready to make the jump. Come on.” He huffed. “Hope this works. Ah don’t wanna be inside old bucket helm for nothing.” I laughed lightly, giving him a light tug after me.

#jazz #prowl #megatron #transformers #the bitch named karma

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verdigrisprowl · 8 years

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Jan 17 Lost Light Stream - Transformers Prime 46-48

After not being able to go for a while, Prowl returned! And mainly dealt with the census.

He spent half the evening talking to Starscream about the fact that Black Shadow applied for citizenship. The conclusion: make sure he understands he’ll have to obey rule of law (which means no smashing planets), and immediately get to work searching for ways to neutralize a Phase Sixer if necessary.

The other half of movie night was spent talking to Soundwave about the census. Prowl managed, after much hemming and hawing, to ask Soundwave to be his amica endura. He’s amazed he managed to ask. He’s more amazed Soundwave said yes.

So. Prowl had an alright evening.

Welcome to the 'lostlightstream' room. Windchill: *HERE COMES A SPECIAL BOY* Rodimus: *well he isnt the chosen one* FakeProwl: *finds a corner to skulk in and warily watch the door. If Chromedome shows up, Prowl is immediately vanishing.* Windchill: *STFU Rodibutt* FakeProwl: ((is there supposed to be sound? i don't hear anything)) Rodimus: ((hrm.... Windchill: *Windchill, having arrived fashionably early, drapes himself over the Whirl Couch in as seductive a manner as possible.* Whirl: *trots on in* Windchill: *YOU'RE TOO LATE* Whirl: *well just in time* Look at this stunning new slipcover I've got. Rodimus: *chin hands at the ensuing fight* Windchill: Who, me? ItsyBitsySpyers: *A feeler pokes around the door. There'd better not be any Chromedomes and Trepans in here waiting to get him... no? Okay. Good.* Whirl: The very same. *solemnly* Rodimus: ((anyone hear stuff? Windchill: I AM stunning. Whirl: ((I do not :|a)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave releases the horde and tromps in to park himself on his couch* Windchill: (( Nope! )) Whirl: ((Now I do!)) Windchill: (( THERE WE GO )) FakeProwl: ((there is sound)) Whirl: *turns and swivels his helm towards The Horde* Shockwave changed their nickname to Shockwave. Windchill: *He's still not going to move.* Whirl: Okay, Rodders... do you remember when I said last week I wanted to make a request? The I decided to save it for this week to build up suspense? Rodimus: If I told you I remembered that, you'd totally believe me. So sure Rodimus: Lay it on me Whirl: The Trooper. Whirl: *looks to the Uusal Crowd, which consists of the twins and Zori* Wanna come help me break in my new fabulous slipcover, guys? Rodimus: *helm tilts* Come again Whirl: By Iron Maiden. Rodimus: Ha! Sure! ItsyBitsySpyers: #what is a slipcover? Whirl: ((also i s2g this is all fo the sake of comedy i'm not trying to feed into the false assumption that whirl has a living furniture fetish orz)) Whirl: *gestures to Windchill* Whirl: That. Windchill: (( ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT. )) Windchill: *He lifts his leg, showing off how fabulous he is.* Whirl: *engine turns over in ENTHUSIASM AHHH THAT OPENIGN RIFF* Rodimus: I dig the gauitar in this one one of my favs! ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave shoos the twins off his couch before they can start air guitaring all over the place* Whirl: If I ever learned to play guitar, this is a song I'd do. FakeProwl: *it is pretty good guitar.* Rodimus: Need fingers for that mech. *grins* Windchill: *Windchill chooses to appreciate it in silence.* Rodimus: need flanging ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble and Frenzy carry on the whole way over to Windchill* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Who they then air guitar in the face at random intervals* Windchill: *Turns just enough, JUST ENOUGH to glare daggers at Rodimus.* Smokescreen: /And he's running on in!!/ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave nods to Prowl and Shockwave* Rodimus: *chuckles at the twins* Whirl: *holds up his claws, splits the tip, and extrudes his deedly-boppers* Whirl: I got something better. FakeProwl: *so far, so good on the chromedome front. but it's too early to know for sure.* Smokescreen: Rodimus Dorimus Rodmsu! Windchill: *Turns back just in time to get a face full of air guitar, and coughs.* FakeProwl: *doesn't notice the nod. he's watching the door.* Windchill: Now you guys have my germs. Whirl: *is just gonna watch the twins shenaniganize at Windchill with amusement and, if you squint, maybe a lil affection* Rodimus: *waves at Smokescreen then nods at whirl* Iwwanta see you do that. Shockwave: *nods back. he'd prefer if tonight's segment featured the predacons instead of smokescreen, but he can be patient* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Holy frag! You better not have no plague!// Whirl: *people he likes messin with each other, having fun? What a rare Good Feelin* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\BOSS! BOSS HE KILLED US\\ Whirl: We'll see. And--OH NO. Rumble. Frenzy. I'm so sorry. Windchill: *Folds his arms behind his head, smugly.* Whirl: You're gonna catch the worst ailment of them all. Windchill: That's me, I'm...a murderer. Windchill: ... Smokescreen: /Waving back! Also staring at Rumble and Frenzy with concern./ ItsyBitsySpyers: @Windchill: [[You are not carrying actual sickness?]] Whirl: Giganticus Buttimus. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HUH?\\ Shockwave: ((windchills got COOTIES)) ItsyBitsySpyers: //That's cool. Frenzy already got that.// Bruin: *plink, plink, plink. incomes bruin with his big aft walking stick and a very determined face. which, may also be slightly cross eyed* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\...HEY\\ Windchill: That's right,. Butterbun changed their nickname to KingStarscream. FakeProwl: *oh, he's got a stick now. nice.* Windchill: @Soundwave: Nothing contagious, unless you count stupidity. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Windchill: [[If that was contagious, Smokescreen would have killed us all.]] KingStarscream: *guess who has ARRIVED. He doesn't quite do the Kuzco door slam but it's a close thing* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Laserbeak sticks close to Bruin while he walks.* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Oh scrap.// Smokescreen: ((... i misread kuzco as kazoo nd i just imagined starscream but with a kazoo)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *The minis SCATTER... some more. And peek at Starscream over the couch.* Windchill: @Soundwave: It's a slow killer, DUH. Rodimus: *points ar Star and smirk* Holy smokes you actually came! KingStarscream: ((no no, give him some class. It'd be a vuvuzela)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((oh good i read it as kazoo too)) KingStarscream: ((the King of KAzoos Windchill: (( Same. Had to double take. )) FakeProwl: *oh well look who's here. right, watching for Chromedome can wait. Prowl is walking straight up to Starscream.* A word. KingStarscream: Technically that was two of them. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy snickers from behind Whirl's couch. Rumble punches him.* FakeProwl: Brace yourself, you're about to get some more. Rodimus: *going streatch his legs across smokey?* ItsyBitsySpyers: *....Rumble also tries to reach for Whirl's antennae thing.* Windchill: *He's free of air guitars now; time to pump his feet in time to the music.* KingStarscream: If you're trying to fuss at me for skipping out of work /again/ you can save it. I'm not interested. FakeProwl: We've received a form from Black Shadow. Bruin: *to tHE SNACK TABLE* Smokescreen: !! /He's okay with this, he's going to rest his arms on Rodimus' legs then./ Whirl: *anyone who wants shelter s welcome to hide behind Whirl; after snickering at Rumbkle's joke he reacts to Starscream's grand entrance with a single, unimpressed blink* KingStarscream: *okay that's actually interesting* KingStarscream: THE Black Shadow? Well now. Whirl: Time to start! *swings himself up over the edge of the couch and comes crashing down with his butt squarely in Windchill's solar plexus* Rodimus: *fair play* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Primus. A night full of Smokescreen.]] Windchill: OOF! Smokescreen: ... /If Prowl is in the room, he's going to try to listen in here./ Windchill: *He knew that was coming, too.* Smokescreen: A night of me! Pretty great, right? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Is also listening.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Define 'great'.]] Smokescreen: This. This is great. Rodimus: *laughs* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You have low standards.]] FakeProwl: *lowers his voice, this is a Private Conversation* THE Black Shadow. And he's listing Overlord and Sixshot as his amicae. Rodimus: Whats your top speed now Smokey? Smokescreen: ... Well the first part of it FakeProwl: Which means they might be following soon. Whirl: Rumble, Frenzy, Zori. *gestures magnanimously to his couch* Windchill: *Puts his feet down, there's room to sit on him now* KingStarscream: How certain are we that these aren't just a handful of mechs attempting the ballsiest Con outside of Megatron's platform? Smokescreen: Ha- my alt hasn't changed, but there's mods you can do to get better speeds. ItsyBitsySpyers: *The trio slooooowly creep around the edge to sit up there. They were gonna hide from Starscream, but, well. A whole bunch of their kind are on screen.* FakeProwl: They might be, but I'm not ruling out the possibility that he's who he says he is. Rodimus: 150 is.... cute. *smirks and wiggles cloven toes at* Whirl: Pfft, so Smokescreen needed babysitting. Shockbox: *He appears to be slightly tardy.* Smokescreen: ... Look- I can do better than that! FakeProwl: He says on his form that he's from and currently living in another universe—on Deathsaurus's Warworld. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[When doesn't he? Greetings, Shockwave.]] Shockbox: Greetings. Smokescreen: I didn't need babysitting! I just needed to learn Earth 101. Whirl: ((*POINTS* JEFFREY...... COMBS!!)) Whirl: *snickers* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i love when ratchet is like "ew humans")) KingStarscream: It sounds rediculously conveniant. Whirl: ...Hey. That's MY nickname. Whirl: For Blurr! FakeProwl: Convenient?! I think you mean disastrous. Whirl: Sounds like typical Optimus. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Spark might be in the right place, but ya left your brain back in the Hall.// Smokescreen: Hehe- Whirl: ((STARMAN REF I CAUGHT YA)) Smokescreen: >:I KingStarscream: But if it is true... well, having a handful of PHase Sixers answering Cybertron's call would be something remarkable indeed. Shockbox: *Is the wave couch occupied by anything other than waves at the moment?* Smokescreen: Oh! That jerk! Windchill: Gross. Shockwave: *it appears to be invader-free* FakeProwl: *a dry, harsh laugh* You think that hasn't occurred to me? Shockbox: *good. he takes his usual place.* Whirl: *also, Trio, don't worry--sitting with windchill and whirl is as good as hiding* Windchill: *Hide behind his boobs and general obnoxousness.* FakeProwl: In case you forgot, all three of the Phase Sixers went rogue. Overlord slaughters for fun, and recent intel says Black Shadow claims to have an uncontrollable addiction to flattening planets. Shockbox: @Soundwave: Have I missed much? FakeProwl: And he's with Deathsaurus, who rebelled from the Decepticons so he could go around slaughtering planets at his whim. None of these are mechs we can rely upon. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Shockbox: [[Negative. Perhaps three minutes.]] Rodimus: *pokes Smokey* I got clear some time to hang out--- you seem my type of fun. Shockwave: Little of significance. *just 3 minutes of Smokescreen failing to use his processor* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[...Ah, yes. This.]] KingStarscream: Oh but Prowl, we no longer represent the Decepticons OR Autobots. I can hardly open our planet to only a few. Whirl: ((aww the drones and insecticons workin together :3c)) Smokescreen: /Gonna poke Rodimus back/ Nice! When's that gonna be? FakeProwl: That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Whirl: Oh, my god. It's... Whirl: It's a letter opener. Whirl: *mock gasps* ItsyBitsySpyers: \\PFFFFF\\ Windchill: I was going to say donger but. Shockbox: *He nods and pings a brief, casual thanks to them both.* Rodimus: Star saber! Rodimus: Yeah? :D ItsyBitsySpyers: *Snap attention* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You know it?]] FakeProwl: These are a pack of mechs who could destroy us in an afternoon, and who recognize no authority but their own. THAT'S my concern. And it should be yours. Whirl: *DOES NOT LIKE THOSE SOUNDS WITHOUT CONTEXT* Rodimus: Uhm seen one Smokescreen: HA watching Megatron fail at this is hilarious. KingStarscream: Besides, Black Shadow renounced the Decepticons to become hired hand. He'll be only somewhat harder to boss around than Swindle/ Whirl: The only Star Saber I know is a mech. A guy. Rodimus: I seen a alternate with one FakeProwl: And if he demands a price we can't pay? Whirl: Cyclonus gored one of his eyeballs out with a horn. It was AWESOME. Windchill: That's a terrible name. KingStarscream: Then we strike a deal. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Interesting. Do you know how they got hold of it?]] Whirl: It's just a fancy sword. Swords aren't all that impressive. Rodimus: WHIRL@ Smokescreen: You'll see, Whirl. Rodimus: Dont let Pip hear that. ItsyBitsySpyers: *That was a fun day, leading them around with the beacon* FakeProwl: *heavy sigh* There's still his /addiction/ to slaughtering planets to contend with. That's unacceptable. KingStarscream: You forget, Prowl, that by filling out the census Black Shadow is already agreeing to serve Cybertron. Whatever his motivations are, he's still coming back. And that is something that can be used. Whirl: Pip? FakeProwl: Even if you don't care about other planets, you have to agree that we'll never gain traction with the wider galactic community if one of our own goes around flattening planets. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\AWWW, I MISSED GORIN'?\\ Whirl: It was during the battle of Luna-1. Before this multiverse stuff began. Whirl: That's where I got my sword, too. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy grunts and folds his arms. He misses all the cool scrap.* KingStarscream: So we find planets for him to slaughter. I'm sure there are several still out there as an acceptable focus for his aggression. Smokescreen: .... /He's just. Going to go back to paying attention to the Black Shadow talk, leaning in slightly to listen./ Rodimus: Epiphany! *points to the greatsword on the wall* FakeProwl: Even IF that's— Shockbox: *taking the human along is going to be an obviously regrettable decision* KingStarscream: ((...is Epi just hanging out) Whirl: Ohh. Well. *looks to the wall* I think Epiphany's left us. Whirl: Either way, he never once impressed me, so... my point stands. Rodimus: ((lol he stays in sword 99.8% of the time Rodimus: ((thats his root and he old man naps most days FakeProwl: *turns to give Smokescreen a Very Pointed Look. and then switches to comms.* @Starscram «Even IF that's workable in the short term— Shockbox: (( only gets up to fuel?)) ItsyBitsySpyers: //Hahaha! Lookit him!// Windchill: That's what he said. Smokescreen: ... /Dangit he was curious too now he has to look at himself messing up on camera/ KingStarscream: @:Prowl ::I have spent my entire /career/ working around volatile guns with legs.:: Whirl: *SNRK* FakeProwl: «—and even IF the Galactic Council magically doesn't care about unaffiliated planets, it's only a matter of time until he runs out. He is not worth keeping around to feed his addiction. Smokescreen: ... Look I did what I needed to do! Rodimus: ((Pip runs mostly leeched off rodimus KingStarscream: @Prowl ::And I ask you this, if we do NOT permit citizenship to a trio of Phase Sixers, what are our possible alternatives for fending them off should they become enraged?:: Whirl: *tips his head back and imitates the Inseciton ululation* Smokescreen: And made some pretty bad decisions there. FakeProwl: «Yes, Starscream, you did. And how many times did you try to overthrow him? How manytimes did he assault you? How badly did he mess up Cybertron?» Rodimus: *laughs* Peach it Smokescreen Rodimus: ((preach* Whirl: Wow, they must REALLY suck at fighting if they can't catch ONE human. FakeProwl: *Starscream has a point, though. the Phase Sixers are detestable no matter with whom they're aligned. They're mildly less detestible if they're on their side.* KingStarscream: @Prowl ::I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Call it your first strike without penalty.:: Whirl: So, lemme get this straight--you guys' Star Saber only works for Primes? Rodimus: ...Ffff. Your Prime is so hott. Smokescreen: Pretty much! KingStarscream: ((would the Star Saber work for StarSaber??)) Smokescreen: .... He's- he's pretty great, yeah. Windchill: *Gasps suddenly, looking down at himself and at all of the butts sitting on him.* Rodimus: Our can move like that. Rodimus: ((cant* Whirl: Do you gotta be actively wielding the Matrix or just compatible? FakeProwl: «I'm making a point. You, Starscream, understand how dangerous walking guns with legs are, and that being on the same side as one doesn't protect us from the danger they pose.» ItsyBitsySpyers: [[It is a grey area.]] Smokescreen: Optimus is really cool! He was able to move in all kinda ways and he's super strong and the best Prime from our Cybertron! KingStarscream: ::But it does buy us time until said guns can either be neutralized or redirected. Between myself and Megatron, which of us still functions?:: Windchill: INTRUDERS! ItsyBitsySpyers: //Tch. Prime groupies.// Rodimus: ((doesnt star know the control codes for the phase 6ers? Whirl: *looks down at Windchill* Oh no! My slipcover has attained sapience! *snickers* Want us to let you up? FakeProwl: «... Similar to a point I was leading up to.» KingStarscream: ((does he? i looked over Black Shadow's page but he also died so Windchill: No. KingStarscream: ((TO OTHER PAGES Whirl: *and, duly noted: note to self, NEVER EVER TOUCH A GOD DAMNED STAR SABER* FakeProwl: ((I thought only Megatron knew it.)) Rodimus: ((Overlord doesnt have one Rodimus: ((Shockwave does Smokescreen: IS HE COOL OR WHAT THERE FakeProwl: «Submitting to rule of law must be a term of their citizenship. And that law must include NOT flattening planets.» Smokescreen: just. just wait Rodimus: YEP I seen that sword before Whirl: PFFT. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Note to Frenzy's self: FIND A GOD DAMNED STAR SABER AND USE IT* Smokescreen: IS HE COOL OR WHAT? Windchill: *Slowly, quietly, YOU DON'T SEE THIS HAPPENING, reaches for Whirl's intruding foot.* Rodimus: *prolly gota HAVE the matrix to make it work* Whirl: Big deal. Cyclous could do that, but with ACTUAL LIVING MECHA. And it was just a regular sword. FakeProwl: «And, if he does join—then we get to work coming up with anti-Phase-Sixer measures. So we can properly eliminate him if need be.» Whirl: *synthesizes a yawn* Rewind: *Hey Rumble, your favourite is here :)* Highgloss: That certainly was a day that happened. Whirl: ...well okay he couldn't do the shockwave thing, but still. Rodimus: *laughs* So can drift-- even me! ItsyBitsySpyers: *NOOOOOOOOOOO* Smokescreen: Wasn't it, Woojit? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Greetings, doctor.]] Windchill: *GRABS THE FOOT* Whirl: *IS GRABBED*

Missed some. Prowl asked Starscream to tell him everything he knows about how Phase Sixers work so he can get to work on finding a way to neutralize them. Starscream mentioned that there are verbal killswitches for the Phase Sixers, and he knows the one for Sixshot, but not the other two. Megatron would. Prowl almost suggests mnemosurgery on Megatron and then retracts it; Starscream latches onto it, Prowl tries to persuade him that it’s a bad idea. I have no idea what everyone else did because I only keep up with my conversations, sorry folks.

Whirl: Oh. Whirl: He's gonna revive them with his Dark Energon. Whirl: And since he CONTROLS DE-zombies, he will control them. Whirl: Right? Rodimus: D: ItsyBitsySpyers: [[A fine guess. Incorrect, but a fine guess.]] Windchill: *He's just watching.* Highgloss: "Powerful emotions. >:I" Whirl: I mean, it's what I would've done, if I were him. FakeProwl: «Then we'll make a mess. Regardless, mnemosurgery is almost guaranteed to not work on him. He's so paranoid about it, he's undoubtedly booby-trapped his mind somehow.» Shockwave: ((imagine if it wasnt a big prime they found and megatron just had a teensy arm)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((OMG)) Rewind: ((omg Windchill: (( BEAUTIFUL.)) Smokescreen: ((PRERFFf Shockbox: (( /slain) KingStarscream: ((omg good)) Whirl: ((HAHHA_) FakeProwl: ((lil t rex arm)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i have a big bucket and tiny arms)) KingStarscream: ((it's just sticking straight out of his shoulder)) Smokescreen: woojit was this fragged up or what Windchill: Why does that sound so wrong? Highgloss: This was incredibly fragged up. Whirl: I'll say this for you, Doc. I dig the buzzsaw. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Agreed.]] Highgloss: Once the sparks stopped flying, he just...*stared.* Whirl: *nods appreciatively* Highgloss: And thank you! Smokescreen: ... That's pretty awkward, how'd you stand being a 'con for so long? KingStarscream: ((does PRowl know where Megatron is? I know Starscream doesn't Whirl: Pfft. Just spliced it right on. Smokescreen: And having to do that kinda thing to Megatron. Bruin: *yikes, just one loud armor rattle* Whirl: So all it takes is a Prime's CORPSE? HAHA. Rodimus: I..... that fragging worked?! Highgloss: We had fuel, a warship, and a cause worth fighting for. Smokescreen: ...... ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Evidently, Rodimus.]] FakeProwl: ((we never resolved that. I think we left it roughly at "it would be dumb for them not to know.")) Smokescreen: Don't take a Prime's corpse please Whirl: I don't need one. Whirl: Why would I? KingStarscream: ((okay cool. just making sure before I had Starscream respond)) Smokescreen: Good Rodimus: I AM A PRIMES UNCORPSE! Highgloss: ...Why did we feel the need to point this out aloud? Whirl: *deadpan* I don';t need this one, either. *gestures to Rodimus with a sly, amused look* Smokescreen: ... Why DO you? Windchill: (( Thank you mr. and mr. exposition. )) Rewind: <<That is a fair question.<< KingStarscream: ::...fine. However, /if/ other methods fail or run the risk of reactivating him, I will find his body and oversee the mnemosugery myself.:: ItsyBitsySpyers: [[He often wondered that himself.]] FakeProwl: «We have no mnemosurgeons.» Smokescreen: man you know on a screen it's waaay easier to stare at certain 'cons without feeling weird Shockwave: Compared to other events on these recordings, it is not the least senisble. FakeProwl: «Those that still live are too decrepit to give reliable results, or else too untrustworthy to give reliable results, and that will likely remain consistent across universes.» Whirl: *tilts his head to an even sharper degree* So... how many Omega Keys were there? Windchill: *Shrugs* Windchill: A few. Windchill: *He's so helpful* FakeProwl: ((... I meant "it would be dumb for STARSCREAM not to know" but okay whatever)) Shockwave: ((BIG OLD WINKU AT SHOCKWAVE AND HIS PATCH, STAR/PROWL. BIIIIG FAAAT WINKUUU)) Smokescreen: megabaseball Whirl: What? I ddin't catch your meaning, Smokescreen. FakeProwl: ((PROWL IS TRYING TO AVOID ANYONE GOING INTO ANYBODY'S BRAIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. THE PATCH DOESN'T MAKE IT BETTER.)) Smokescreen: ... Look- it's just. You can stare at Megatron on screen a lot more comfortably compared to being right in front of him KingStarscream: ((I think way back when it was agreed that if Starscream knew he'd spend ages trying to kill Sleeping Beauty so it was decided that he's not allowed)) Smokescreen: yep this is where i died Whirl: ...but why would you want to stare at Megatron? *disgusted* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[A pity you couldn't have stayed that way.]] Rewind: *snickers* Smokescreen: .... look have you seen his back FakeProwl: ((that was brought up but not agreed. because Starscream would pitch a complete and utter fit if Megatron was taken away somewhere he wouldn't know about.)) Shockwave: ((yes, but! decrepit mnemosurgeons is exactly why he made the thing. untrustworthy... eh. cant have it all)) FakeProwl: ((Starscream + Iacon.)) Whirl: Yeah, I've watched weeks and weeks of this. I've seen every bit of him. Smokescreen: HAH Sounds you wish anything could keep me down Shockwave: ((i feel like that sphinx is a bit small)) FakeProwl: ((it's just a kitten)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((the sphinx is not v tall)) Smokescreen: See? But in-person, it'd be awkward. But here I can stare at his eyebrows moving around without getting hit by a fusion cannon KingStarscream: ::There are always options. Especially with this blending of universes. Somewhere is a mnemosurgeon that can be relied upon.:: ItsyBitsySpyers: ((it's only like 60 feet and these guys are about 30)) Shockbox: ((you could say megatron is)) Shockbox: (( armed))) Highgloss: He was never one for names. Rewind: <<Megatron: not very creative with names<< Whirl: ((INTO THE PEAR WIGGLER WITH U)) Windchill: Clearly. KingStarscream: ((I really thought you'd say he was getting the upper hand Smokescreen: The dork star saber Rodimus: ((omg get in your box Whirl: ((ALL OF U)) Rodimus: *snickers* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Ha.// Rumble pauses. //'N I'm laughin' at Knock Out sayin' it, not you, Rewhiner.// Windchill: What the heck is this. Whirl: Eh. I don't see the appeal, myself. *waves adismissive claw and reclines further, spreading his arms across the back of his couch* Whirl: Swordfights are so BASIC. Rodimus: Would you... if it was.. a hammer? Shockbox: (( i've been resting on that pun for over 10 minutes i had to make up something for it )) Whirl: *antenna pins back* Well. Hammers are more interesubg, Whirl: *interesting Smokescreen: Swords are awesome though! And these ones make a great swooshing noise. FakeProwl: «Have you ever worked with mnemosurgeons, Starscream?» Shockwave: ((so much for egypt guys...)) Rewind: <<You don't need to clarify. I already know.<< Smokescreen: holy frag Shockwave: ((RIP egypt you'll be missed along with louisiana)) FakeProwl: «Remember which side had the New Institute and so which one of us would know what we're talking about here.» Whirl: PFFT. HA. Windchill: *Examines his claws.* Whirl: WEAK Shockbox: (( battles between titans hold no regard for foreign monuments )) Whirl: See? When it comes to weapons, you can't beat Cybertronian ingenuity. Smokescreen: HAHAHA KingStarscream: ::Didn't you used to DATE a mnemosugeon?:: Whirl: Primes. Pfft. You can KEEP Primes. KingStarscream: ::I wonder if that's coloring your perception of things.:: Smokescreen: bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, Megaglitch! Windchill: *Snorts.* KingStarscream: ((Starscream doesn't know for sure, he just heard it once from Rattrap)) Rodimus: Slick move~ KingStarscream: ((so who knows hw reliable it is Smokescreen: Haha, thanks! FakeProwl: «I've never dated a mnemosurgeon.» *not a lie. he wasn't a mnemosurgeon at the time.* Smokescreen: I could show you how it's done sometime- I've got the phase shifter on me right now, even. Windchill: For crying out loud. Shockbox: (( rip star saber. you lasted for less than a full episode.)) Smokescreen: ... Technically there was-- anyway. Windchill: *He rubs his eyes.* Windchill: This is exhausting. ItsyBitsySpyers: //What, bein' sat on?// Whirl: *looks down at Windchill* In what way? Rodimus: =o Windchill: The reliance on new toys and gimmicks to accomplish anything. Windchill: Being sat on is another matter entirely. Smokescreen: Hey, nothing wrong with that! Whirl: I mean, a good weapon ca give you an edge. But being able to fight, YOURSELF, is the MOST important. FakeProwl: «The very nature of the work makes them unreliable. Put them at the bottom of the list of options—I'll find something that works.» Windchill: *Nods.* Whirl: If you can take our someone waving a relic in your face bare-clawed. The mech. You've got it. Smokescreen: ... oh. this part Rodimus: *sighs then smiles at SMokescreen* KingStarscream: ::Hmph. Whatever you say.:: Smokescreen: /Grinning back at Rodimus!/ ItsyBitsySpyers: [[A favorite part. In a while.]] KingStarscream: ::Is Black Shadow and his entourage the only issue so far?:: Smokescreen: Sure, sure. I'll take whatever edge I can get when it's a huge serious matter like it was here. Windchill: There's nothing wrong with taking advantage of the resources you have, but being helpless without them is just silly. Whirl: And I'm not saying I blame you, kiddo. Shockbox: (( geez soundy why's your screen gotta be so big.)) Rodimus: about that time off-- I got get this ship off the dirt. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((it's full of secrets)) Smokescreen: knock out's voice is so good-- Whirl: *amused look at Smokescreen* He's right THERE, you know. Bruin: *munch munch, rip the snack table. No plates, and he might be trying to take a leg off now* FakeProwl: «So far. The only other applicant I've received is a Decepticon named Crosswind from another universe. Does the name mean anything to you?» Smokescreen: I'm not helpless without 'em, though! You saw me kicking 'con tailpipe before! Rodimus: Its pretty smooth.~ Shockbox: *...are /all/ the snacks gone?* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Pings Prowl to let him know the Resonance Blaster will be in use again this episode. Mind his audials. Goes back to watching* Smokescreen: Oh? Should we hang out before or after you get things back up again? Windchill: I may not have been paying attention to those. FakeProwl: *pings Soundwave back. received.* KingStarscream: ::...nothing immediately springs to mind. :: Bruin: *no just anything metal on the table, only a few energon snacks are missing* Rodimus: Depends how many interveiws I have to do! Whirl: *shrugs* You just now got introduced, buckaroo. I'm witholding judgment. *but that doesn't mean he's writing you off, either* Smokescreen: oh primus i'm so embarrassing Whirl: Gotta say, your blatant Prime fanboying is pretty tiresome. Shockbox: *oh good. he just remembered he's perpetually starving.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You are.]] Smokescreen: ... I know it is. Windchill: It's okay, Smokescreen. Shockwave: *at last a point on which they agree* FakeProwl: «We may not have a parallel of them in our universe, but the name's worth looking up anyway just in case.» Shockbox: *that's what he gets for being late* Windchill: You don't embarrass ME. Smokescreen: ... Really? Whirl: NOTHING embarrasses Windchill. Windchill: *He can't be embarrassed.* Windchill: Exactly. Whirl: Smokescreen, take heart in this--no matter who you are or what you do... you will never be as ridiculous as THIS mech. *pats Windchill with a claw* Rewind: ((oop. I gotta go. assume Rewind stayed until the stream's over [just to bother Rumble by existing <3] Whirl: *solemnly* Not even you. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((byeeee)) Whirl: ((seeya 8) )) Windchill: *Hand over spark* Windchill: It's true. Smokescreen: Haha- I'll take that to spark, thanks. FakeProwl: «So. We get to work digging up ways to take out Phase Sixers, and in the meantime I contact Black Shadow and make sure he knows he'll have submit to the rule of law? Does that sound right?» Windchill: (( LATER. )) Highgloss: Ohhh, yes...I remember THIS. KingStarscream: ::It does.:: ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You and your alternate had flair with this weapon, dear doctor. He cannot say that often enough.]] Smokescreen: Thanks for the memories FakeProwl: *THERE'S the obnoxious noise stick. turns his audials off.* Shockbox: *pushes off of the couch, approaches the table which is currently being attacked by bruin* FakeProwl: «Then I'll let you go.» Whirl: *Smokescreen hasn't impressed Whirl yet, but he's shown some OK moves. So he's gotten a bit of points* Highgloss: That weapon had flair by virtue of existing. Still, I like to think we were a good looking match. Whirl: Lord. Someone save me from Knockout's puns. Whirl: My God. KingStarscream: *a casual wave of his hand. At least he can get away from the door now and actually find somewhere to sit* Windchill: Impressive. Smokescreen: ... sounds sounds sounds can you use that when you're DJing hypothetically Whirl: *deadpan look his direction* You're DREADFUL, mech. *his tone, despite his words, is approving* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[No. He no longer has one.]] Shockwave: *you think this is bad? he has to operate in this universe, puns and all* Windchill: *He's not sure why those two were left alive, but okay.* Whirl: I've always wanted a sound-based weapon. ItsyBitsySpyers: *And trust him, it saddens him every day.* agoodidstraction: what'd I miss? Bruin: *glaring and a quiet rumble at the approaching shockwave, he'll scoot over but he's not gonna stop eating* Smokescreen: You missed me kicking aft! FakeProwl: *the obnoxious noise stick is gone, turns his audials back on as he heads to sit by Soundwave* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Smokescreen embarrassing himself. Knock Out wielding sound with admirable skill.]] Whirl: *nods cheerfully at Wheeljack* Smokescreen: Well- hypothetically, if you had it? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave nods to Prowl and makes just enough room. It's always nice to be between both allies.* Whirl: Is that directed at me or Soundwave? Smokescreen: ... I wonder if Megatron has it somewhere here- maybe I can borrow it sometime? Shockbox: *he approaches with an air of indifference to bruin, as he does with most others. he grabs a bowl.* Windchill: *Covers his face.* Smokescreen: man arcee really should've just. decked me right there ItsyBitsySpyers: //Want I should do it for her?// ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble cracks his knuckles* Whirl: ((good animation on Bulkhead wowow)) Rodimus: *laughs* Smokescreen: Can you even reach my face? Whirl: *snickers* Windchill: Oh no. Windchill: *Not this guy again.* ItsyBitsySpyers: //I'mma grab it 'n feed it to your fraggin' feet in a sec.// Whirl: @Rumble: If you want a launchpad mech, I'm your air support. Whirl: *he doesn't dislike Smokescreen, but really. It would be too fun to pass up* Shockbox: *he returns to his spot. oh, prowl's sitting closest to him, now.* agoodidstraction: Where am I? Rodimus: *watches intendly* Whirl: You're on the Lost Light. Shockbox: *says hello by means of a blank stare.* Smokescreen: You are, huh? I'm sure you are, Kiddo. ItsyBitsySpyers: \\HOW THE FRAG YA GET HERE IF YA DON'T KNOW WHERE HERE IS?\\ agoodidstraction: destiny's child Smokescreen: /Quiiietly reaching to turn on his phase shifter./ Windchill: *Snickers* Smokescreen: say my name say my name Whirl: ((pfft, that was cute)) Rodimus: Aint no scurb ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble growls.* agoodidstraction: ugh KingStarscream: (("Then you would have seen me arrive TWO hours ago, poisoning the apples!")) Windchill: Good. Whirl: Man, must suck, not being able to fly. *shakes head* Windchill: Someone's gotta do something about those trees. KingStarscream: ....That was a lot of work for something that could have been accomplished with three missles. Smokescreen: you know they're kinda annoying but it's probably a good thing I have that handle between my doorwings at times like that! Smokescreen: ALSO FRAG YEAH BULK KICK HIS AFT Windchill: *He saw a butt.* boomtank: *wanders in a bit late* Smokescreen: /Turning his phase shifter off again- he'll give Rumble a shot!/ Rodimus: *waves at blaster* agoodidstraction: this idiot Whirl: Ha! ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nope. He's not getting in a fight here. Ship's rules, Boss's rules.* Smokescreen: PHfhfhfh- Rodimus: HA Windchill: Nice. Whirl: Bulkhead's always a joy to watch. Smokescreen: Bulkhead's the best! agoodidstraction: i had a dream about dreadwing and his brother once agoodidstraction: well, twice Whirl: What? Wait--dammit. Should've taken that time to turn Dreadwing into DEADwing. boomtank: *waves back and sits in an empty spot* ItsyBitsySpyers: {{What dream about?}} Smokescreen: I still have no clue what got me Whirl: Yeah, what kinda dream? *looks over* Smokescreen: .... agoodidstraction: Y'know the kind ya wake up cracklin from Smokescreen: .... THAT'S what happened? Wow frag you Starscream KingStarscream: What? Whirl: Cracklin...? Whirl: Did you mean CACKLING? KingStarscream: * a blank look. Who are you again?* agoodidstraction: Nah agoodidstraction: Cracklin Windchill: *Whispers* Rodimus: *laughs* Smokescreen: ... Not you- the one in my 'verse. Windchill: Maybe he meant getting off? Smokescreen: Also Hi! /Going to wave at Starscream there/ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Whispers* //He does.// Shockbox: (( psshhhh, is starscream barely paying attention to the documentary if he doesn't vaguely know who smokescreen is?)) Whirl: OH. Crackling like--okay I was thinking of like. Y'know. *makes acrackling noise* Whirl: Not revved UP. ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Question, if Prowl not busy. agoodidstraction: You never had a static dream, mech? ItsyBitsySpyers: *He's not sure. There's a Starscream in here and he's not allowed to listen in on Prowl's head.* Whirl: Why can't people just. Say what they mean, jeez. *feels a little foolish and is irritated for it* KingStarscream: ((yeah, he's not exactly paying attention)) Whirl: I don't really dream. Highgloss: Pit to that. That was glorious. agoodidstraction: Reeeed Smokescreen: ...... Rodimus: *pat pat Smokescreen* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave sits up. Ah, yes. A good time incoming.* Smokescreen: /Leaning into those pats./ KingStarscream: *..okay yeah. That's Soundwave. So this guy is... also Soundwave.* KingStarscream: *the guy Prowl is cuddling up with?* Smokescreen: Gee Megatron, you ever hear of "personal space?" Smokescreen: ........ Smokescreen: uh. FakeProwl: *sitting next to with no cuddles* FakeProwl: *but yes* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Yes?» ItsyBitsySpyers: *To be fair, there are also two Shockwaves on this couch.* KingStarscream: ((*starts cackling reembering the 'did A3 shove a key up Smokey's ***' conversations*)) Smokescreen: ((PHFHFH Shockwave: ((love how smokeys form of learning a lesson is 'do more absurd heroics that totally pay off')) Whirl: Looks like a guy. Shockbox: *three waves and a prowl* Smokescreen: UH. Smokescreen: Alpha Trion was this really necessary Shockbox: *the latest disney sitcom* Whirl: PFFT.. Windchill: ...Wow. Whirl: Smokescreen. You can ONLY be used by a PRIME? Whirl: My goodness. Smokescreen: what Windchill: Oh my god. Rodimus: *raises hand* Smokescreen: I'm- you know, yeah! No one can use me but a good Prime. Whirl: Hey, look, you have a volunteer. Rodimus: *bursts out laughing* ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Bird turn! Bird turn!}} boomtank: Well then... Whirl: Rodders is gonna unlock your FULL POTENTIAL. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Happy loop in the air* Smokescreen: PFHpfhff-- Whirl: Hey! here you are, Laserbeak! Smokescreen: RUDE LASERBEAK FakeProwl: *TWO Shockwaves? Prowl didn't notice. He might've perched on the next couch over otherwise* Whirl: *will salute her as she goes by* Smokescreen: I just wanted to have a nice relaxing drive Smokescreen: and then all this happens Shockbox: *mine came to sit down after you sat down. said hello by means of staring blankly.* Bruin: *absently tosses a snack in lazerbeak's direction* Shockwave: *technically prowl sat in other shockwaves seat while he was up getting snacks* Shockbox: *has been slowly snacking directly next to you.* boomtank: Well, to be fair, you aimed at Laserbeak Smokescreen: ... FakeProwl: *didn't notice* FakeProwl: *IS HE SURROUNDED BY SHOCKWAVES* KingStarscream: ((gee prowl why does Starscream let you have TWO shockwaves?)) agoodidstraction: Smokey Whirl: *why can't Prowl, hold all these Shockwaves* Smokescreen: okay woojit how long were you waiting like that Smokescreen: Wheelwheel Shockbox: *to be fair, mine /is/ kind of short.* Rodimus: You can redeem your self next week smokes! agoodidstraction: Wanna smoke? Whirl: Lord, that's a horrifying thing to wake up to. Smokescreen: :O FakeProwl: *is going to very quietly relocate* Whirl: *nods to KO* No offense. Windchill: I've seen worse. Smokescreen: BUT RODIMUSS ItsyBitsySpyers: ((ah, we're only doing three tonight?)) Rodimus: Waiting makes it all the sweeter Windchill: Nonsense. Smokescreen: I'll try it out! Then I'll be Smokesmokescreen. Smokescreen: Nooooo it just makes it all embarrassing agoodidstraction: Yep Windchill: It's dreadful. Smokescreen: and I do some awesome stuff too Rodimus: *laughs* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Census announcement noticed. Soundwave... interested. Prowl position endangered beyond acceptable bounds if form filled? Whirl: Oh! That reminds me! Did you get my message, Wheeljack? Rodimus: Good then! Whirl: I never got a response. agoodidstraction: yeah, thanks for the freaky dick pic Whirl: ..a simple "yes" or "no" would've worked. Whirl: Abd, hey, you ASKED for it. Smokescreen: Wheeljack just gimme a cygar or vape pen or whatever- I gotta live up to my name here. FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Why would my position be endangered by your filling out the form? Non-rhetorical question.» agoodidstraction: Alright, alright agoodidstraction: I got copper and silver Windchill: *Wait a second, he never got any dick pics. Then again, he never asked.* agoodidstraction: Whirl your dick is *** up Rodimus: \OMG! I missed a dongle show?! Smokescreen: :O /Staring at Whirl. Dongle pictures?/ Windchill: *Regardless, as he's not a jealous mech, he will say nothing.* KingStarscream: ..that sounds like my cue to leave. Smokescreen: I'll try silver! KingStarscream: *he is OUT OF THIS TOWN BYE* Rodimus: *pouts wanted to show his off it fricking awesome* agoodidstraction: knock yourself out kid Whirl: It was just a picture, Rodders. Whirl: I' didn;t whip it out in public. Rodimus: No fun boomtank: ....um? Whirl: Nobody wants to see THAT. boomtank: What just happened here? Shockbox: *is this what the group discussion has completely turned to? genitals?* Whirl: @Wundchill: I took a close-up shot of killer biting my claw and told him it was my claspers. It was HILARIOUS, trust me. Smokescreen: Thanks! I'd offer you something similar, but I don't got anything like it- you like crystals by any chance? /He's sticking the cyg in his mouth-- is he supposed to light it or something else or??/ ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Soundwave's final wartime decision: unpopular. Cybertronian foreign being acceptance history: poor. If Soundwave: citizen, alliance discovered in future, this not burden? Windchill: ((WUNDCHILL)) Whirl: *Whirl's dropped it, otuside of private chat, so the subject is free to change* Smokescreen: /Cyg might also be the wrong way. He's only really eaten them, not actually smoked 'em./ Whirl: ((WUNDCHILL)) Windchill: ((I...)) FakeProwl: *aha. prowl didn't know if soundwave had planned on putting something revealing on the form.* Whirl: And, that, my friends... is how you clear the room of Starscream. Whirl: You are all WELCOME. Windchill: @Whirl: Excellent. Good job. ItsyBitsySpyers: *There's a TON of stuff on the form that would be revealing.* FakeProwl: *revealing re: prowl* Smokescreen: But he wasn't even that smelly a Starscream ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh. No. Why would he?* ItsyBitsySpyers: *There's not a spot for "allies" or "secret companions"* Buzzstrike: (wonders if it works on Uniend Starscreams) FakeProwl: *maybe he leaped over a question Prowl's been planning on asking.* FakeProwl: *if not, no matter, it'll come up soon.* Whirl: Doesn't matter. Rodimus: *he can just flip that sygar over the right way he seen kup with one* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Your final wartime decision is unknown here. So far, mechs here appear to be mildly wary of foreign Cybertronians, but not hostile to them.» Whirl: All Starscreams need to be got rid of as quickly as possible. Windchill: *Nods.* Smokescreen: /Giving Rodimus a thumbs up- he appreciates that! Still has no clue how to use this but he's doing his best./ Windchill: *All of the Starscreams he's ever met have been terrible.* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «I've run simulations. At this present moment, the public discovering an alliance would do more to harm your reputation than mine.» Buzzstrike: The one in my universe certainly was. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Sends over an empty message with several repeated humor tags while he tries to gather his thoughts for a response* Bruin: Amen ta tha *his mouth is full it sounds like he's gargling gravel* FakeProwl: @Soundwave «Unless at some point in the future foreign mechs mechs become scapegoats, but I intend to work against that ever happening.» Whirl: If I ahd a drink, I'd toast the lot of ya. FakeProwl: *is that soundwave's way of going "lolololol"* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((yes)) FakeProwl: *......prowl likes it* Shockbox: (( oh, soundwave...what a meme...)) Windchill: Go get a drink, then. I'll save your seat.

Missed some. Prowl and Soundwave decided the issue of Soundwave applying for dual citizenship was settled, Prowl moved on and said regarding the census he has a legal matter to discuss. Soundwave briefly went ?!??!?!!, the Shockwaves went ?? at him, Prowl attempted to send him a calm tag but just ended up sending a tag that said “CALMNESS” because he doesn’t have a calm tag. It didn’t hurt things, at least. Prowl mentioned they’ve agreed to serve as emergency medical contacts for each other, but according to the census, only conjunx, siblings, and amicae are listed.

agoodidstraction: Smokescreen just smoke it Smokescreen: how ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Affirmative. Bonds listed under sibling. Comment section utilized. Smokescreen: am I supposed to light it Windchill: @Whirl: I'll find a way to make it work. Rodimus: *squints at the cygar* Smokescreen: /Getting a blaster out- that should light it right?/ FakeProwl: «Well, that's—good. Reasonable, I think, since a spark bond is involved.» Rodimus: *he will just gently lower that blaster bro no weapons* Whirl: *snorts; that's good enough for him. He hops up* I'll catch most of you losers next week. Whirl: *nods to the Usual Crowd* And I'll see you guys in a few days! ItsyBitsySpyers: //Awww. Kay.// ItsyBitsySpyers: \\DON'T DO NOTHIN' I WOULDN'T DO!\\ Smokescreen: /Oh whoops-- might press the cyg against Rodimus/ You're hot enough to light it, right? Windchill: *Oh good, someone stopped Smokes from blowing his fool face off.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy grins like hell* boomtank: G'night Whirl Rodimus: *naps the cygar and peers at it?* Windchill: *STRETCHES.* FakeProwl: «However, on the matter of—our arrangement. Typically, it would be atypical to, er... propose a—legal arrangement, considering the brevity of our alliance.» agoodidstraction: Give me the fraggin thing and come closer agoodidstraction: I'll show ya Whirl: You got it. *salutes* FakeProwl: «But, usually, a long wait before establishing a legal arrangement is to—to allow for the possibility of a conjugation to be ruled out, but we've ALREADY ruled that out. So.» Smokescreen: Aww- finee- /Swiping the Cyg back from Rodimus and going over to sit next to Wheeljack./ Here you go, Teach! ItsyBitsySpyers: *...There's already a legal arrangement. He said he filed it. And what does conjugation have to do with anything?* Whirl: G'night! *he will step aside to give Windchill room to get up, and will wait for him outside* Windchill: *Is there anyone else still sitting on him?* Whirl: *and spare a bob for Soundwave and Shockwave as he goes* Rodimus: What's in it Wheeljack? *squints harder* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Absent-minded feeler wave* Whirl: *i think the trio still might be* ItsyBitsySpyers: *The trio will vacate if Windchill needs to move* FakeProwl: «It would be—I think—reasonable, under the circumstances, to... if you're amenable—and aren't opposed to the social baggage that comes with it—register as amicae.» Windchill: *He kind of does.* All right, you dingalings, I gotta go. Smokescreen: Aww, bye Windy! agoodidstraction: Just watch Windchill: *He usually leaves when this song plays anyway.* agoodidstraction: *loooong drag* Windchill: For the love of- Windchill: *He POINTS at Smokescreen.* Windchill: Don't call me that. Smokescreen: ... Sorry! Window? Windchill: ...Better. Windchill: *He will accept this.* Rodimus: *press a button and drops the couches all into the floor* Smokescreen: /Also gonna watch Wheeljack/ So I gotta drag it like that? Windchill: OOF. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave snaps upright and -- WHOOP DOWN HE GOES* ItsyBitsySpyers: #DDDDD: Windchill: *He was just leaving why you gotta be like that.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *assorted large and small thumps around the room* FakeProwl: *WHY IS THE ENTIRE ROOM CRASHING. HOW BADLY DID HE MESS UP.* Shockwave: *falls onto his butt and leaves a small crater* ... Rodimus: *he doesnt like to be ignored when he is asking a question!!* Windchill: *He didn't smush the little dudes did he?!?!* agoodidstraction: *blows* Just suck and hold and blow agoodidstraction: Not hard Shockbox: *woah what the heck is happening* FakeProwl: *looks around. ... looks down. he's floating over the spot where his couch used to be.* ... ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Kehehehehe!}} ItsyBitsySpyers: {{Dumb two-legs.}} Rodimus: *is standing cuse he was ready for the drop* FakeProwl: *... sheepishly stands* Whirl: ((omg shockwave just pulled a windchill)) Bruin: *Is Very Concerned by this, what is Wrong* Whirl: ((his butt is justb as dangerous)) Windchill: ((RUDE...)) Whirl: ((luckily he didn't dent someone's BED WITH IT)) Smokescreen: ... Suck and hold and blow, huh? Haha- I can do that! Shockbox: *he's on his back, staring up onto the ceiling.* Shockbox: *contemplating life.* Shockwave: ((he is not shuttle sized but he is Very Very heavy)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave sits up and looks around. What was...?* boomtank: *ow. why.* Smokescreen: Gimme a shot- /Trying to grab the cyg from Wheeljack now./ agoodidstraction: *hands it over* Do it. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Checks both of the other Shockwaves. They seem... Shockwavey. About it.* agoodidstraction: Just one hit and see how ya feel Rodimus: Smokey dont do that if you dont know what it is!!! FakeProwl: *looks around for a culprit. spots rodimus.* FakeProwl: *gives rodimus a look that says Why???* Smokescreen: Hey what? I can handle it, Rods! Shockwave: *isn't on his back, but. yes. he's just sitting there questioning his life choices* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...That, not his fault. Windchill: *It doesn't appear that he's killed anyone.* Rodimus: It not about handling it its about not being a dumbass! Smokescreen: /He's gonna go ahead and- suck and suck and blow? Right? That was it he thinks- might be coughing some after that./ FakeProwl: «... I gathered.» Shockbox: *he shakes his helm and sits up to observe everyone else's reactions.* Buzzstrike: (is glad he decided to lean against the wall) Rodimus: Dont take things like that without seeing what they are! boomtank: *is going to remain where he landed* agoodidstraction: It's just silver ItsyBitsySpyers: *Offers his ally a feeler. Need help up?* ItsyBitsySpyers: *What was he - OH. Ohhhhh.* Smokescreen: Wheewhee's trustlworthy! Shockwave: ((i love how several peoples response is just to sit there like okay guess im on the floor now)) Bruin: *well, atleast the partially consumed table is still here for him* FakeProwl: *maybe prowl should leave while everyone's distracted* Whirl: *pokes his head in* What the frag just happened? KingStarscream: (("I am too large to get up. leave me" FakeProwl: (("save yourselves")) Windchill: *Raises hand* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Don't you dare.* Windchill: My butt is probably broken. Shockbox: (( we weren't prepared to do any standing right now, and goddamnit, we'll stand when we're ready.* ItsyBitsySpyers: #the couches died Shockbox: *)) boomtank: What happened, and why are the couches gone? agoodidstraction: the frag are you nuts doin Whirl: I've seen what his butt can do, he probably hurt the floor more than the floor hurt him, ItsyBitsySpyers: \\I ATE 'EM.\\ Shockwave: *reaches a hand up to the feeler after a moment* FakeProwl: *he'll just stand awkwardly. and watch that stray left corner of the music video that's partially visible on the screen* Smokescreen: /Still- the silver's pretty strong for him! He's taking a moment to try to get his head a little less foggy- trying the silver again! Second time's a little better, at least, and he's not coughing/ Whirl: I knew Frenzy's uncontrollable hunger for upholstery would undo us all... one day... FakeProwl: *and definitely not look toward Soundwave. nope. nope.* Windchill: *This is a disaster, he's leaving now.* boomtank: Kinda rude to eat them when people are using them Windchill: Yeah, seriously. Whirl: *come and get yourself involved in A Different Disaster with Whirl* Windchill: *He's working on it.* agoodidstraction: *pats Smokey's back* agoodidstraction: Easy ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Soundwave - what is... Bruin: *might be looking at the remaining 2/3 of a table guiltily now* boomtank: *okay, now sitting back up* agoodidstraction: Are they dogpiling? Windchill: *Gotta grunt and CAREFULLY roll onto his front, just in case there are any smaller people in his general vicinity still. THEN he can get up.* agoodidstraction: Let's dogpile Smokescreen: /Giving Wheeljack a thumbs up- he's leaning back some, but he's okay!/ I can handle this! Shockbox: ....*he takes the bowl he had brought with him off of the ground and stands, sighing lightly.* FakeProwl: *waits. he's holding very still.* FakeProwl: *he's wringing his hands irl* Whirl: *still has his head ZOOPED into the room* Whirl: *nice song* Windchill: I'm coming. agoodidstraction: How ya feelin kid? Rodimus: *just content himself singing then and sit up on his snack table and raise his opical ridges at the snackers* Windchill: *Climbs to his feet with a Final Grunt.* Shockbox: *he returns the bowl he took to the table.* Windchill: *His body is ready.* Bruin: *um.. roddy the table might colapse with only 3 legs* Windchill: *To walk out.* Smokescreen: Kinda dizzy- but I think I've got it! It's kinda nice- Do I keep on doing it? Or do I gotta like- wait and then try again or? Whirl: *nods to Windchll and steps aside, then will trot off with him and lead him to where Killer awaits* Buzzstrike: Thank you, I should head back to my own 'verse. Shockwave: *if soundwave's too distracted to actually give that feeler a tug he'll just sigh and get to his own feet* ItsyBitsySpyers: ((i didn't see it sorry)) agoodidstraction: Nah, wait ItsyBitsySpyers: ((chat zoomed)) agoodidstraction: You'll be high in a klik Windchill: Bye, suckers. I must go. ItsyBitsySpyers: *The feeler will be getting tugged!* KingStarscream: ((shockwave is like a turtle. trapped)) Rodimus: *considering it is bolt to the ground I doubt it* Shockwave: ((i wasnt sure if it was that or an actual IC justification lol)) Windchill: *He waves, and follows Whirl out.* Shockbox: (( they were just 'holding hands' for a few moments it's all chill)) Smokescreen: Really? What kinda thing can I expect from that? ... Not gonna be all dazed like you, am I? agoodidstraction: Silver's mellow but sharp agoodidstraction: You'll know it when ya feel it Smokescreen: Mellow but sharp? ... Not gonna hurt much, right? Shockwave: *baleful stare at the butt-shaped dent in the hatch that's supposed to cover the retracted couches. someones probably going to need to repair that before Wave Couch returns* agoodidstraction: Won't hurt ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Amica: life-friendship? This, same across timelines? Prowl wants this? Soundwave not - this, personal relationship end? Rodimus: *looks over at the dent and chuckles* ItsyBitsySpyers: *He's not sure what this means. He doesn't really get the whole friendship thing very well.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Amica has always confused him.* Shockbox: (( the wave couche has a permanent butt mark in it now)) Shockbox: (( great job, larger shockwave, you have marked your territory.)) Whirl: ((hoist is gonna hafta do it gdi)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave looks at the dent. He looks up at Shockwave.* Rodimus: ((he will get hoist to fix it! ItsyBitsySpyers: @Shockwave: [[Table, floor. Next time, berth.]] Windchill: (( What an honor. )) Shockbox: (( wHEEZING)) FakeProwl: ((git it soundwave)) Whirl: (("I now know the exact dimensions of Shockwave's tuckuss. :|")) Whirl: ((HECK YE GIT IT)) Shockwave: *antennae perk* FakeProwl: «Yes—yes, life-friendship. That's a good way to put it. It's—it wouldn't necessitate us ceasing any current aspect of our relationship.» agoodidstraction: *he'll just take another big hit( Smokescreen: Good, good-- /Doorwings are probably relaxing as it finally comes in- and he's probably staring off once it starts / boomtank: ((Good one Soundwave KingStarscream: ((we now have3 a blueprint for the hotpants)) FakeProwl: «Or preclude the possibility of advancing upon our current trajectory.» Rodimus: *frowns drugs are for losers* Shockwave: ((@shockbox: its not the first time he's accidentally 'marked his territory' lol)) Shockwave: ((SHOCKWAVE IN HOT PANTS)) Smokescreen: /He's not a loser :c he's purring some even- this isn't so bad!/ Shockbox: (( all of you are killing me here. )) FakeProwl: «I realize this is—fast. Comparatively speaking. But. Considering our—our overall compatibility, and willingness to work out issues as they arise, and that we've... already ruled out...» Rodimus: *gutter trash mechs in idw tend to be very anti-drug. since they seen the worst sides of it* FakeProwl: *he's babbling. he'll stop now.* Shockbox: *shockbox is sort of. floating. watching. he has decided to focus study on his laternate for a brief while.* Smokescreen: /He's gonna try smoking the silver again- maybe it'll make it feel even better!/ Shockbox: (( *alternate )) Shockbox: (( geez, so many typos.)) Rodimus: ((my lyfe Shockbox: (( wow, now he really is SMOKEscreen )) Smokescreen: /... That is true. Smokescreen was mostly sheltered from it, somehow./ Smokescreen: ((Smokesmokescreen)) Rodimus: ((not gutter trash is he? lol FakeProwl: ((admittedly, we don't know that gutter trash is anti-drug)) Bruin: *goodbye.... friends? Aquaintances. He is gone. clunking and wacking things with his stick as he exits* FakeProwl: ((we know that DRIFT is anti-his-own-former-drug-use)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...Conjunx forbiddal not Prowl's fault. Personal matter. Can explain other time. Apology given. Amica - difficult concept. Soundwave... hold. agoodidstraction: smokes Shockbox: (( goodbye bruin! )) Bruin: ((night yall)) Whirl: ((whirl was also guttertrash fo a time and has always been anti-drug)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Spark exposure necessary? Spark exposure refused. agoodidstraction: take this cyg but don't smoke it again tonight, I've got a higher tolerance than you. just see how this one hit feels ItsyBitsySpyers: *Dim memory of what those rituals used to be.* FakeProwl: «You don't need to apologize. I am not bothered by the ban. I'm merely saying that, because it's there, we can move onto—» FakeProwl: «No. No, no. No sparks. If we wanted to get old-fashioned, we could, but I have no desire to.» Shockbox: (( those two getting couples benefits? )) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Tiny relieved slump.* Smokescreen: ... Whee? /Idly keeping the cyg in his mouth/ But- why? I cnan handle it- it's really nothing! It's nice and relaxing and I mean it's not like high grade where it frags with your systems the same Whirl: ((which peiople.....)) Shockbox: (( prowl and soundy.)) FakeProwl: «... Then... if you're already asking about specifics, are you... inclined?» Rodimus: >( agoodidstraction: Don't Smokescreen: The same way- but. But fine-- can I try it again tomorrow? agoodidstraction: Yeah ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Acceptable. Shockwave: ((more like friend benefits )) agoodidstraction: Try to save it for when ya need to relax Smokescreen: ... Technically it's tomorrow on Earth in some places so that means now right FakeProwl: ((they are going to legally be friends with benefits)) agoodidstraction: Kid, you're gonna get too high FakeProwl: ((friends with medical/inheritance benefits)) Shockbox: (( heheheheh, alright, i see. )) Smokescreen: For when I need to relax? ... I don't exactly know when that is but- thanksn Wheeljackjack ItsyBitsySpyers: *Has a moment. Reviews something that was just said* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): ...Prowl would have asked conjunx first if not forbidden? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Because THAT... would have been alarm unlike anything the couch did, let him tell you what.* agoodidstraction: Alright agoodidstraction: Gonna meet up with Bee FakeProwl: «No, absolutely not. We've only known each other—what, a few months?» agoodidstraction: See ya FakeProwl: «A year, approximately?» Smokescreen: Nooo- nooooo Wheel- come on.... ItsyBitsySpyers: *Pings relief.* Shockbox: (( i love how very little interesting is going on on the physical plane.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is sitting verrrrrry still.* Smokescreen: say bee I said hi Shockbox: (( and i'm here soaking up all of this prowl/wave drama )) agoodidstraction: I will Smokescreen: thanks Wee Shockwave: ((eh with comm convos it happens sometimes)) Rodimus: ((i just went back to discord ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Send paperwork. Soundwave fills, adjusts. ... Request: Fix census form. Smokescreen: We should hang out more WiiU Shockwave: ((technically they take longer to write than theyd actually take to conduct lol)) FakeProwl: *phrasing himself very carefully* «I—would not yet have ruled out the possibility. But it would take millennia, at least, to settle on the possibility.» agoodidstraction: Come over sometime agoodidstraction: alright night FakeProwl: *too much? should he have kept that to himself? more hand wringing as he waits.* ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Acknowledged. Smokescreen: id love to!! nini wheehwee FakeProwl: *oh. okay, that's not bad. probably. soundwave didn't say he wants to reconsider the paperwork, he'll go with it.* Shockwave: ((lbr prowls just thirsty for a husband)) Smokescreen: /And he's going to go ahead and lie down with the silver in his mouth still. It's just cozy on the floor tonight/ FakeProwl: ((no??)) Rodimus: ((he just prema freindzoned soundwave Rodimus: ((amica isnt husbands ItsyBitsySpyers: ((Soundwave perma dis-conjunxed them first)) Shockwave: ((i mean that he'd rather like one, so he tries to keep his options open, but keeps having to rule them out)) FakeProwl: ((that's basically how canon says it works)) Shockwave: ((so hes like deep down thirsty but cant act on it)) Smokescreen: rodmus rotom lie down with me FakeProwl: ((you refuse to become amicas until/unless you've ruled out conjunx)) Rodimus: *huffs and smokescreen* Shockwave: ((as an ace person i object to the idea that what rewind said applies universally but)) FakeProwl: ((which means even if you'd be willing to be amicas, you have to hold out on that until you're sure it won't work as conjunx.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: @Prowl: (txt): Gesture appreciated, still accepted. However, night late. Should return. FakeProwl: ((as an ace person I'm willing to accept that Rewind is describing the broad cultural conception of how it works even if for specific people it doesn't necessarily.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave rises and summons the horde* Smokescreen: rotomus what'd I do? boomtank: *Yup. Going back home now. Nothing going on anymore so...* G'night, and thanks for the show Shockwave: ((but even in humans, the 'broad conception of how it works' is harmfully inaccurate, for more than just a small population)) ItsyBitsySpyers: \\NIGHT.\\ FakeProwl: ((I'd rather drop it.)) boomtank: ((thanks for the stream! Later! Shockbox: (( rotomus?)) Smokescreen: ((Rotomus Shockbox: (( someone, paint a rotom with orange flames. )) Rodimus: *pokes him with a tip of a foot* You--- your slagfaced. Smokescreen: ((yess Shockbox: (( roddy's official pokemon team now includes rotom, no disputes upon the matter. )) Smokescreen: I'm nott- my face is not slagged-- come on, Rotoscope Smokescreen: /Gonna try to grab Rodimus' foot here/ Shockwave: ((its the fire rotom)) Rodimus: *huffs* Only losers whose lives are not already awesome do drugs. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Flexes a hand. Frenzy, he knows you're tired, but do try to get the pinky on right.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *There we go. Thank you.* Smokescreen: my life isnt aweosme thouh Shockbox: (( he just has a ghost oven on his team for no explicable reason. )) Smokescreen: ... I kinda am a loser- I mean. My team lost the war- I'm alreyady losing there Rodimus: *nooo he is trying to be high and mighty but his foot is ticklish* Shockbox: (( uh oh, something appears to be)) Shockbox: (( afoot.)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((PFT)) Rodimus: Autobots dont lose. Rodimus: Con always do. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Tell that to Wheeljack.]] Shockwave: *pauses briefly to help Shockbox to his feet if he isn't already. otherwise, will follow Soundwave out* Smokescreen: My team did- and I fragged up and optimus is dead and and megatron's ruling Cybertron and it's fragged up and I'm HEL{ING him and it's wrong Shockbox: *ah, no, shockbox has been staring at you from a distance for a while now.* Smokescreen: /He's puuuulling on that foot. He wants Rodimus to join him on the ground!/ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Pings Prowl goodnight. And one more thank you.* Shockbox: *suppose you didn't see that bit, did you.* Shockwave: ((my b, thought he was staring from the ground)) Rodimus: *confused look at Smokescreen* FakeProwl: *pings back. and a thank you in return.* Shockbox: (( nah, nah, from around the snack table. )) FakeProwl: *flickers out* ItsyBitsySpyers: *And heads out with Shockwave, probably to hang out* Shockbox: *either way he watches the exit too. well, great. he just ran out of interesting things to stare at.* Shockwave: *will just CATCH HIS EYE AND NOD THEN hows that. wave solidarity knows no distance* Smokescreen: /He looks just as confused back at Rodimus/ Rodimus: *FINE will melt onto the floor* Your universe is fragged up. Shockbox: *it works, it works. he wonders if his alternate knew he was being stared at the entire time. probably did. probably.* Shockwave: *knew* Shockbox: *dun dun /dunnnnnn/ i mean it was pretty likely.* Smokescreen: It is- I knoww /Going to try to roll on top of Rodimus. It's very hard with doorwings!/ They've got a botbt that's supposed to be primee but he'd be a terrible fit but Megatorn KEEPS bringing it up Shockbox: *he's been doing a lot of comparing and contrasting with the first TFP shockwave he's met.* Shockbox: *differences in personality and size are quite jarring.* Shockwave: *may have to discuss these differences later* Rodimus: *its not your fault smokey that your supposed to be hot rod >_>* Shockbox: *shockbox here to have a FULL CATALOGUE of all of the other shockwaves.* Shockbox: (( they come together at some point to make some insane device.)) Rodimus: *he will just use those hand dandy door wing handles to lift smookey up* Shockbox: (( everyone is terrified. )) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((sounds about right)) Smokescreen: /Goes all stiff once Rodimus grabs that handle- pretty convinient!/ Rooodss Rodimus: *chukles* Rodimus: ((Rodimus is like TFP prime's size you know that right? xD Smokescreen: ((YEP it's so great)) Rodimus: ((xD he can actually fit on his chest Shockbox: (( alright now. i think that's about enough. )) Shockbox: (( i must....rest......for a million years....)) Rodimus: Yeah well Primes are only as good as the spark Smokescreen: ((teenysmokey)) Shockbox: *he takes leave.* Rodimus: unwilling spark bad Prime Rodimus: *grins* You ever see the captain ameria movies? Smokescreen: yeah-- and thehir spark is scrap- they gotta know that it wouldn't be a good fit, right? They knew beettter when big O offered the matrix the first time but paparently Megs doesn't get that Smokescreen: Yeah!! I've seen those! He's so great and a genuinely sweet human and I'm so glad for Steve Rodimus: I like him too! but yeah the supersolder typey its like the matrix! is makes like all the good parts more and all the bad parts too... Rodimus: ANYWAYS! Smokescreen: ... All the bad parts? Rodimus: You know.. like for exsample *not that its me* being unsure in your self it makes that a million times.. more! but it also makes oyu way more brave and sure of the choice at that moment! Smokescreen: Ohhh-- so- if I got it I'd be even more unsure of myself? And even more-- me? Probably a good thing that- that- were you less cool before it or just as cool? Rodimus: Ha! that no depends who you ask! Smokescreen: Well- what do you think? Rodimus: I am just as hot.. I am never cool look at my paint! Smokescreen: You can be both! You're hot AND cold! Rodimus: *laughs* Smokescreen: Like- you're like. an ice cube on fire Smokescreen: or a fire in the artctic Rodimus: If anyone could do it it be me! Smokescreen: Exactly!! You're Rodimus- you can do it! Rodimus: OK Smokes, time for me to do work. Smokescreen: and- and- I think I gotta go home, but htank you, Rodomy- see you later? Rodimus: I'll walk ya out~ Rodimus: ((nn!! Smokescreen: I can do it! you don't gotta do it if you've got work-- the help might be good though... Smokescreen: ((nini!)) Rodimus: ((they prolly raced out lets be hontest] Smokescreen: ((Pfff absolutely!)) Smokescreen: ((rodimus most likely won here))

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