#a jet for brainstorm/cyclonus

[they-hermes]

was doing a dive into tfwiki and found this little fun fact for scrapped idw quickswitch

its funny to imagine the crew come together and build a baby, but whats funnier is the implication that this would be the second time megatron has witnessed the birth of a super warrior (overlord) but also the second time Prowls influence led to his ex building a super soldier (tarantulas saying without prowl ostaros would have never existed/ chromdome performing mnemosurgery on overlord bc of prowl)

quickswitch beating springer at the number of dads game

[shandsformation]

WHOS YOUR FAVORITE TF BABYGIRL 🫵

starscre am

[in1-nutshell]

Hey, not sure if you're down for writing a continuation of the “Megatron 'accidentally' adopting human Buddy who fears nothing” post. But there was a line “Rung has a line of bots that express the same worry for Buddy one day doing something dumb and not being able to come back from it.” that I think should be expanded upon. Dangerous things are constantly happening to the lost light crew and Buddy must have the devil's luck to come out of everything that happens unscathed. I'd like to see that luck run out. I'd like to see the crew panicking because Buddy got hurt badly and there's been no news if they'll recover or not. I want to see Megatron deal with the impending mortality of his newly adopted kid poorly. And I want to see everyone on the lost light panic even more because if Megatron doesn't start a war if this kid dies, Whirl absolutely will. P.s please let buddy live, I may crave angst, but not that much.

Have a good day, love your writing

Ooooh! Have you been peaking at some of my drafts? haha! I have been thinking about what would happen if Buddy ever got hurt on Megatron's watch. But now more bots are going to watch.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron and Fearless Buddy who gets seriously hurt

SFW, familial, platonic, angst but happy ending, mention of injuries but nothing graphic or detailed, Human reader

MTMTE/LL

As we all know Buddy fears nothing

And this put some stress on their friends and new dad, Megatron.

“Hey Megs!”--Rodimus

“Rodimus, don’t call me that.”--Megatron

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Anyways I was wondering if you’ve seen Buddy anywhere. They were supposed to show me something?”--Rodimus

“Show you what?”--Megatron

“Something about being a present for being Brainstorm’s ‘Guinea pig’?”--Rodimus

Buddy flying by on a jet pack.

“Hi Roddy! Hi Megs! Bye Roddy! Bye Megs!”--Buddy

“…”—Rodimus and Megatron

CRASH!

Both mechs start running

But as time continues to go on, their little antics are just normalized. Sure, there are still some bots that know the true fragility of the human life span. Such bots included but not limited to Ratchet, First Aid, Velocity, Swerve, Rung, Megatron, and Whirl

“Where are you going with those pilars?”—First Aid

“It’s nothing illegal, yet.”--Buddy

“What type of answer is that!?”—First Aid

But for the most part the crew thinks Buddy is almost as durable as they are. Yes, even Megatron has been guilty of this type of behavior. He isn’t too proud of that.

“C’mon Fleshy jump and do a flip!”—Random Bot

“Bet—”--Buddy

“I think not.”--Whirl

“Whirl?!”--Buddy

“If you break your dumb fragile bones who else is going to come with me on planet expeditions? Cyclonus? I think not. He sucks out all the fun.”—Whirl

“I am literally right here.”--Cyclonus

So, let the angst begin.

The place was being invaded by space pirates.

The pirates where taking the bridge and had successfully barricaded themselves in.

“Why can’t we just break the door down?”--Buddy

“The main room has delicate equipment. One wrong move…”--Megatron

“Okay that’s a bad idea then.”--Buddy

“We just need an opening from the main door and we can figure out the rest.”--Rodimus

“Hey, I’m tiny enough to fit through the crack under the door. I can open the door!”--Buddy

“Absolutely not.”--Megatron

“For once I’m agreeing with him.”--Whirl

“Hey, its not like we have many options here. Unless someone else has a better idea then I am quite literally the only thing stopping these guys.”--Buddy

“…go then…”--Megatron

He was going to regret saying it like that. The computers dashboard in order to unlock the door or at least give it an opening. So, when they were sure that the aliens weren’t looking, they sprinted over to the console by swinging up with a grappling hook to the chair and began running towards the buttons.

They had indirectly activated the plasma screens.

These were holoscreens all over the ship that would show what was happening on the bridge. Everyone had a front row seat to Buddy sprinting across the console. There where cheers as Buddy was coming closer and closer to the button

“They made it!”--Rodimus

“Way to go Buddy!”--Tailgate

“Just press the button.”—Ultra Magnus

“That’s my Amica—”--Whirl

It was right there…

The alien came out of nowhere…

“EW! A Rat!”--Alien

“A ra—"--Buddy

They swatted Buddy across the room in one swift movement. They’re tiny body hurdling across the room and off screen. A small sickening crack was heard.

It was barely noticeable.

But it caused a deafening sound across the entire Lost Light.

 Good news for the crew, Buddy’s shoe came off from the force of the hit and successfully pressed the button opening the door.

Everyone is lined up to take these aliens down.

Megatron and Whirl are at the forefront of it.

Megatron is trying to find Buddy while Whirl is absolutely destroying everything.

Megatron spots Buddy slumped over in the far corner of the room.

No motion, nothing

He is just frozen in place.

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“…”--Buddy

“Megatron! Move!”--Ratchet

Ratchet snaps him out of it as he is trying to help Buddy.

Megatron snaps out of it a cover him.

Buddy is rushed out an into the medbay.

Everyone is waiting.

The sudden gravity of Buddy’s mortality weighs heavily on the minds of everyone involved.

Megatron sulks in his room thinking about how he failed them. He can’t bear to sit by Buddy in the med bay. Ratchet understands and tells him that he when Buddy wakes up.

Whirl on the other hand, stays by Buddy’s bed side the entire time.

“Hey Tiny. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve open those little eyes… You mind opening them up?”--whirl

“…”--Buddy

“Fine be like that…”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

“Well, you’ve missed a lot since you took that hit. One you have a ton of inner most energon by your room and a growing number of get-well gifts. I personally made sure none of you’re a secret bomb. Megs is still in his room and its giving everyone the creeps.”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

“… Don’t tell this to anyone… but we miss you, you scared the ever living Pits out of us.”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

Whirl has lost every good thing in his life. He is going to make sure that this one thing does go so soon.

Buddy does wake up

“Hye Whirly Bird?”--Buddy

“Buddy?!”--Whirl

“Why you looking at me like that? Someone died?”--Buddy

“You nearly did Tiny!”--Whirl

“But I didn’t, huh? It takes more than a hand to stop me.”--Buddy

“…I guess huh.”--Whirl

Megatron is zooming over when he hears. Buddy is trying to play off their injuries to try and keep the peace.

“Hey Megs.”--Buddy

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“You okay? You look like you’re dying.”--Buddy

“… that was a poor choice of words.”--Megatron

“Yeah I guess— woah, Megs?"—Buddy

Megatron gently holding Buddy’s hand the best he can

“Just let me hold you please, just a little bit.”--Megatron

“Sure Megs.”--Buddy

As they are recovering Buddy is treated with a bit more respect than they had before. Good thing too, they did after all manage to save the ship after all.

[transingthoseformers]

Whirl not only gets away with everything and anything, he is absolutely encouraged by Skywarp. Who is known for pranking his fellow Decepticons. He attempts to reign him in from bothering Megatron once because he isn't sure how he'll take it, but after Rodimus bursts into giggles, Megatron instantly melts from his annoyance chuckles to himself and simply tells Skywarp to teach Whirl to focus on more appropriate targets. Parenthood has had an incredibly mellowing effect. Thr only ones putting in a concentrated effort to reign him in are Thundercracker and Cyclonus. Tiny Ratchet is firm Megatron deserves suffering.

They do have memories that get clearer with age.

Getaway is seething so much. It's Hot Rod and he hates it but Hot Rod also is also one of those parents fascinated with everything their baby does and smothers him in attention and affection which is doing wonders for helping his issues even if he keeps trying to remember he doesn't like Hot Rod. Hot Rod is a very young parent and fussy and worrying so he compensates by trying to keep a cloae eye on him and give him all the attention and affection that Hot Rod as a war orphan lacked in his earliest years.

G1 Ravage finds the smaller version cute and appropriately fiery. He couldn't be happier, and MTMTE Ravage finds a reflection of his own family that he severely missed.

Brainstorm is such a trouble child. He is a genius who preens and saunters around bragging loudly and reminds Skyfire painfully of Starscream, who is definitely eyeballing the tiny jet from a distance. Though there is one accidental kidnapping that results in bonding time and Starscream is veey firm he is nlt attached to Skyfire's kid he just can't trust anyone else to watch him while ransom is negotiated. Regardless of how adorable and clever he is designing weaponry and how much fun helping him build the miniature gun he designed was.

Rung and Megatron are absolute angels, and after one horribly panicked afternoon of losing Rung, he's so small, he is constantly being held by someone.

There are absolutely a few comments especially about Megatron though Ratchet confirms he was there for it.

A few of them have concerns. Jazz worries about how unsocial Damus is and how he struggles to fit in. Wheeljack has similar concerns about Deathsaurus, which leads to his "siblings" being built earlier. And playdates.

The Coneheads are terrified because they have no idea how to raise a motorcycle, and Chromedome is so depressed until he meets tiny Rewind. Ultra Magnus and Hot Rod bond even more about their shared concerns about parenthood.

Springer and Arcee are concerned about Pharma's newly discovered bulkying tendencies once he meets Damus.

Sunstreaker is overprotective of Drift because he is very, very obviously part Decepticon and he isn't Optimus Prime so he hears comments and there are some fights. As far is he's concerned Drift is perfect and anyone who thinks otherwise answers to him.

Shockwave bemoans Perceptor's strange fussiness concerning ethics but indulges him as it is Perceptor's experiments.

Skywarp being a bad influence makes sense, that's adorable and hilarious. He gets away with so much

OO okay makes sense, wonder what'll happen in regards to the memories as they age and start to communicate and everything (how much do they still relate to their previous lives? Is a question that comes with all reincarnation things)

Omg that's so fucking sweet. Getaway is a problem child and Hot Rod is doing the best thing for it: patiently understanding him and caring for him. Aww yes. Smother that fucker in love and see how it affects him.

Exactly, mtmte Rav is gonna get so much

One accidental kidnapping

I have a feeling I know what happened /hj

Baby!Rung is so fucking little, both physically and in little guy vibes. I wonder how he'll differ from his previous life

It is yet again baby Tarn time and it's always fun to see how he fits into a new life (when his memories begin to bubble up again it's going to be a nightmare)

Also seeing little Des and the dinobots play is an adorable image

Adorable image of the coneheads and just. Itty bitty motorcycle.

It's interesting to see how some mecha are drawing off of their old lives for new patterns, makes sense but still. Fascinating.

Awww YES SUNNY WIN. that there is his child and talk shit get hit

Shockwave: odd request, but I do not why i should not grant it

[sweet7simple]

rodimus obtains a beautiful rare crystal from a dangerous cave as a present for drift, and gets himself all banged up in the process. ratchet is torn between scolding roddy's recklessness and appreciating his devotion to their mate.

This is a fun one because Rodimus would absolutely do something like this.

It starts with an away mission to a planet which has organic life, but no one responds to the Lost Light's polite comm pings. There are signs of advanced technology, not a single satellite in the sky or sign of a spacecraft or energy readings that confirm any high output of electrical energy on the planet's surface. Whatever is down there probably isn't going to have an issue with them meandering around and having a look-see, right?

So Rodimus is on the away team with Brainstorm, Perceptor, Swerve and Velocity plus some others (Cyclonus, Whirl, and Tailgate are somewhere around here. Rodimus is sure they're safe. He's pretty sure they're safe. They better be safe). Rodimus has a comm line to Megatron, Minimus, and Drift on the bridge and he's feeding them video data so they can see what he's seeing.

Well, Brainstorm gets to this cave they want to explore, but the methane readings are off the charts.

"Let me put it this way," he says as he holds an analyzer in one servo and gestures with the other, "if you so much as snap your digits down there, this whole mountain region will stop existing and us probably with it."

And then he follows it up with, "So everyone be careful and stay with your buddy!" right before he tries to march jovially into the mouth of the cave.

Perceptor snags him back and holds him by one of his wings. "What he means is, this is a dangerous endeavor, moreso because of the probably of causing a chemical reaction that can destabilize this mountain region as well as trap us underground if we are not already destroyed by the heat and shock wave of the air blast. However, Brainstorm and I would like permission to take that risk upon ourselves. Our detectors are picking up readings of a highly conductive metal within this cave, which may be highly resourceful to us."

Rodimus gives Brainstorm a look.

Brainstorm points down into the cave. "There's copper down there. Copper is good for us. We want more copper. The medibay will be very happy with you if we bring back copper. Ratchet might even reward you if you let us bring back copper." He manages to pulse the lights of his optics in a suggestive manner.

Rodimus is suddenly very much onboard with this. "Yeah, sure, I'll go down into the cave. The rest of you can wait here."

Perceptor and Brainstorm and Swerve and Velocity all stare at him.

"Um," Velocity begins politely, and then stops.

Brainstorm takes Rodimus by the pauldrons. "How do I put this the nice way.... Out of everyone here, you're the one most likely to make the mountain go boom. I say that with Swerve standing right next to you."

"Hey! I'm the most qualified to go into that cave!" Swerve shakes his servo at the jet.

"Yeah, which is why Rodimus is the one most likely to make the whole place crash down for once," Brainstorm says.

"I'm also the one most likely to survive if the whole place crashes down," Rodimus points out. "The heat and air blast won't destroy me because of my outlier ability and I can just recharge if I get stuck and wait for all of you to dig me out."

"Uh, Roddy, sweetie, if a whole mountain drops down on top of you, it's going to take a really long time for us to dig you out," Brainstorm explains.

"He does have a point, however," Perceptor says, pinching his chin thoughtfully with his other arm folded over his chest plate.

This goes back and forth for awhile. Perceptor is actually on Rodimus's side that he should go down into the cave by himself, see if the readings they are getting are actually for copper, and bring back some samples. If it turns out to be copper, and a sizeable amount of it, they can send Rodimus back down for bigger samples.

Brainstorm is saying, "I can't believe I'm the one trying to do the smart thing, but Rodimus will absolutely walk in there, snap his fingers to see if the mountain really collapses on top of himself, and then be surprised when we turn out to be right."

"I will not do that," Rodimus promises. He had thought about it, but he's not that stupid. If scientists are telling him that the mountain will go boom, he's going to trust them. This time. Only because the last planet they were on, they told him to not walk so close to the edge of a cliff because the slope of it suggested it wasn't stable and he'd gone, blah blah blah, how can you know just from the slope? And then Cyclonus, Brainstorm, and Whirl had had to airlift him out of the river at the bottom of the cliff and no one, I repeat, no one will let him live it down.

He's not going to be the captain who blew up an entire mountain on top of that. He refuses. He's going to be careful. As careful as he can be. He is, at least, not going to snap his fingers to see if it ignites the methane and blows the whole place up.

Swerve is on Rodimus's side because, "Just in case you die down there, can you state now in front of these witnesses that I'll be co-captain in your place? Please? And, you know, don't die down there. But, if you do - "

Velocity isn't necessarily against him going, but she is against him going alone. "Just in case of injuries, I think I should go with you," she reasons.

"But what if we're injured if the mountain blows?" Swerve asks. "We're standing right here."

Rodimus plants his servos on his faulds. "Well, go stand somewhere else!"

So the rest of the team gets out of blast range (which is very far away) and they send out a broadcast telling the other teams to also get out of blast range and they warn the Lost Light above the planet's atmosphere about what's about to happen (they already know since they're tied into Rodimus's video feed and Rodimus has already turned off their comm feed so that they can stop harassing him about how this is a stupid idea and he's about to get himself killed and he better not do it, Rodimus, we're serious -).

Once everyone's a safe distance away, Rodimus goes down into the cave with Velocity and some data packets from Perceptor about what copper rock even looks like. They're actually quite colorful, he likes them.

Velocity is tip-toeing along like the very movement of her joints might set off the methane, so Rodimus makes a show of being very unbothered by everything. He's joking with Velocity, making her laugh, getting her to unwind a little bit as they go further down into the network of caves.

They're limited in where they can go since most of the caves are too small for them to fit through, but the major systems are very accommodating.

"Drones," Velocity groans, almost slapping her own forehelm before she pauses and puts her servo back down. "We could have sent drones down in our place. We were so busy arguing with you that we forgot we didn't have to send anyone down here. And they would be able to fit through the smaller tunnels and chambers too."

Rodimus had actually thought of drones, but he wants to be able to take a hunk of this copper rock to Ratchet himself, dug out by his own servos, and have his mate berate him for his stupidity right before he gets rewarded for his gift.

"Well, if there's a lot of copper, we can just send the drones down next time instead of coming back ourselves," he offers.

They eventually find some colorful rocks in a side of a cave. Rodimus digs his digits in and scoops it out. The cave wall is softer than he expected.

Velocity is also very carefully digging out only as much copper rock as she can carry. Rodimus's optic catches on the glint of something next to her.

"Hey, what's that?"

She turns her helm to look at what he's pointing at. "Oh, it appears to be some kind of... gem, I guess. I'm sorry, my geology is poor. I'm sure it would be very pretty if it was polished, though."

As it is, it's some kind of milky green where it just breaches the wall, dull and without much shine to it.

Rodimus opens his comm to Drift (and Drift alone) to show him his video feed. "Hey, sweetspark, what am I looking at?"

Drift gasps through the comm line. Rodimus's interest is instantly perked. "That's emerald! I have only ever seen emeralds on Earth. They're beautiful once they've been tumbled and polished, and their energies are so pure. They can channel emotions such as love and improve the health of your spark." And then he gasps again. "Roddy, turn to your right. There is something... Yes, a little more. There. Primus, that's a rare form of chrysoberyl. It also resonates with the spark and promotes feelings of love. And it's so rare. On earth, they called it alexandrite and it was still in short supply." His voice is ringing with longing.

Rodimus is determined now. "Anything for you, sweetspark."

"No, Roddy, you're there for the copper."

"And I've got the copper. No worries. Like I was telling Velocity, we'll just send some drones down for more once we get back to the surface."

"Then the drones can pick up the crystals, it's okay."

But it isn't. Rodimus is going to be the best mate ever. He's going to give Ratchet his copper rocks and he's going to give Drift his crystals because they deserve it and because it will mean more from him than some drone that can't even recognize how gorgeous and awesome his mates are.

Velocity has stopped mining the copper rock and is watching him closely. "Be careful, Rodimus. Be very careful. If you scrape your digits across those crystals..."

"Don't worry, I got this." He pauses. "But, just in case, you should start up without me. I'll meet you up there." He turns off his comm feed where Drift has started yelling at him, echoed by other voices on the bridge.

"I'll stay," Velocity says, scared but brave. Brave because she's scared and still will not leave him.

He respects her. "Okay. Just give me a klik and we can head back up."

For him, it doesn't take long to dig around some crystals and put them directly in his subspace (he's going to have to hose it down, he realizes with a grimace. There's dirt and sediment everywhere now). With Velocity watching with the widest optics, posed as if ready to start running, it make the process feel eons longer.

But he gets the crystals and nothing combusts and they have the copper rocks. They leave the cave and the air quality is almost instantly different without the methane cloud setting off their sensors.

It's all very anticlimactic for Rodimus, but everyone else is acting like he just barely managed to escape the certain grasp of death.

The moment he and Velocity are out of blast range, Perceptor and Brainstorm send down some drones to get more samples and Rodimus and Velocity take one of the shuttles up to the ship.

The mecha waiting for Rodimus are Not Happy. Megatron has that look on his face that says, "I've eaten Cybertronians before out of desperation, but I'm willing to bite you in half out of sheer frustration." Minimus tells him how many rules he broke by the order they were broken in.

Drift has that closed off look on his face that says he's more upset than he is angry and he doesn't want to show it. Ratchet just looks thunderous as he yanks Rodimus in that direction and another, checking him over even though the only thing wrong is that his servos are dirty. Velocity doesn't point out that she already checked Rodimus over because this is just a Ratchet thing, not a medic thing. Ratchet needs to know for sure that Rodimus is safe.

It's not the easiest checkup he's had since he's holding copper rocks in the curve of one arm and refuses to let them go for anything. Not until Ratchet is done with him and he is able to, with a sunny grin, hand over the copper.

Ratchet looks incredibly sour as he takes the dirty rocks in his servos. "I can't even do anything with these, you fool! Swerve has to draw the wire from these! And you left Swerve on the planet. Now my servos are just dirty."

That was not how it was explained to Rodimus and now he's kind of angry that, at no point, did Swerve mention this.

"Yeah, but this is your copper," he stresses. "You can do whatever you want with it."

Ratchet is clearly tired of his slag. "Sure, Rodimus." He ex-vents. "Thank you for risking your life for some rocks a drone could have brought me without endangering the life of my mate."

"You're welcome!" Rodimus says, choosing to ignore everything that came after the thank you. If he thinks about it too hard, it might ruin his mood.

At least it makes Ratchet huff with humor. Ratchet wraps one of his dirty servos around the back of Rodimus's helm and pulls him down into a kiss. "You're an idiot, but at least you're my idiot."

Drift steps up to them and puts a servo gently against Rodimus's chest shield. "You didn't just risk your life down there to impress Ratty," he says knowingly. "I'm upset with you, but I am so, so thankful as well. Never risk your life like that again. You are worth so much more than copper and crystals. But, thank you."

Rodimus opens up his subspace, grimaces as he feels how dirty everything is, and pulls out the clumps of crystals. "If it makes my mates happy, I'd do a lot more than just walk through a cave and pick up some rocks." He gets another grateful kiss.

Rodimus's spoiler shakes from how high he's holding it. He's beaming with joy as Ratchet grimaces down at his filthy gift, a calculative look in his optics as he's already thinking about what to do with the copper that will get drawn from it, and as Drift gives his own crystals a much softer, much happier look.

Their happiness means so much to him.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #37 — Rung’s Lack of Table Manners Causes a Civil War

After the disaster that was Rodimus attempting to save Trailbreaker’s life retroactively, the Time Travel Team is well into their search for the dastardly Brainstorm in their new timestream location— prewar Rodion to be exact, where Orion Pax was police chief. They’ve split up into pairs and singles, as needed, and Rodimus checks in, despite clearly being bummed about what happened last issue, and also maybe because he’s got to put his readers on in order to see the road below him.

At least someone is having a good time.

Rodimus calls Rewind and commits a microaggression, but Rewind hasn’t seen Brainstorm either, even from his vantage point on top of a blimp promoting Proteus’s Promise. No idea how Rewind got up there, but at least our timestamp has been solidified as being further in the past than we were last issue.

Over in the river, Riptide floats around, horrifically bored. Cosmos is there, which is neat.

On the tram system is Chromedome, who is feeling mighty nervous about not using his alt in Functionist times, while also being nervous about running into his past self. He explains this to Rodimus, through the most conspicuous headset I’ve ever fucking seen.

Over with Cyclonus, the big purple jet is having a quasi-religious experience, as he takes in the view of Cybertron before all the war and Dead Universe and Heart of Darkness and D-Void happened to it. Tailgate covers for his moment of rapture, taking the phone to check in with their team leader, outright lying about what the fuck is happening to Cyclonus. He’s very good at that, lying.

The beauty of Cyclonus’s former home is enough of a proverbial pickaxe in his emotional dam walls to finally let himself apologize for kicking Tailgate in the gut.

Like, two years ago.

Points for making the attempt, I guess, though I’m not sure Tailgate’s really feeling it, as he doesn’t really accept it, but he does at least acknowledge words were spoken.

Over in present time, on the Lost Light, Perceptor spouts off some sci-fi nonsense to Megatron, as Ultra Magnus tidies up in the background.

Megatron posits that Brainstorm may be aiming for moments of historical significance because it’s just easier to do that way, and Perceptor just accepts this suggestion without a fight, I suppose because nobody knows what’s going on at this point. Magnus is making a face, and when Megatron asks him what’s up, we get a reminder of how our dear SIC sees the world around him.

I wonder if Magnus ever has to fight the urge to strangle this man for all the bullshit he’s put literally everyone through.

Perceptor calls Rodimus, explains the current working hypothesis, and Rodimus drops the bomb about Rewind’s database being rewritten. Perceptor’s not thrilled about this new piece of data, but it doesn’t necessarily spell out certain doom just yet— Brainstorm might only be on the track to kill Orion Pax, as opposed to having already done it. He thinks so, anyway; the time machine is an incredibly complex work of scientific breakthrough, so much so that Pereceptor’s got a sapiosexual boner over it.

Rodimus remembers that Rung exists, and ends the call prematurely to check in on the creamsicle man. Rung is currently at Maccadam’s Oil House, trying to keep out of sight of a couple of dweebs hanging out outside the front window. He’s yet to see Orion, and is told to just chill. He complies, pulling an incomplete model out of his kangaroo pouch to keep himself busy.

Unfortunately, someone notices his anachronistic prop.

Brainstorm makes a break for it, now knowing that he’s been followed through time, and then we get a retread of Nightbeat and Quark’s conversation from the “Shadowplay” arc. It is, quite literally, the same pages reprinted for this issue. Same colors and everything. Glad IDW didn’t waste the extra paper redrawing these, it would have been silly to do.

Brainstorm heads in Cyclonus’s direction, who scoops up Tailgate to intercept. Rodimus wants Cyclonus to commit a murder, but then Tailgate’s like “bro what” and he changes his mind. Before Cyclonus can shoot to wound, however, the egg-timer goes off on Brainstorm’s timecase, and he disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.

Perceptor gets called, and tells Rodimus to grab the fellas and head to Maccadam’s so they can follow Brainstorm, and that he can’t teleport them himself because there’s only so much quantum juice in the engines, and once they run out, the gang might be stuck in the past for good. Rodimus asks if Perceptor is mad at him, but follows directions regardless.

The Time Travel Team explodes onto the scene a year prior to where they were a minute ago, Whirl admits to thinking a vast majority of his current peer group is hot, and Riptide forgets that time and space aren’t the exact same thing. Rodimus is very tired at this point, and doesn’t even know why they’ve been brought here— Orion is nowhere near Maccadam’s.

It’s at this point that Ultra Magnus takes the phone (which looks positively silly in his massive hand) and brings up how their theory of “Brainstorm wants to do a murder on the future Optimus Prime” is starting to unravel. However, as I said a moment ago, Rodimus is very tired at this point, and frankly doesn’t care to understand what’s going on anymore. The gang splits in half, one going to Maccadam’s as instructed, the other going to the Rodion police station to keep an eye on Orion’s place of work.

Elsewhere, Rung— not current Rung, but the Rung who belongs to this part of the past— is on his way to work. Turns out his little backpack has multiple modes, because it’s currently being ridden as a Segway.

Past Rung is about to unlock the doors to the clinic, when he gets a nasty little surprise from Brainstorm.

Brainstorm electro-punches Past Rung in the back of the neck and leaves him laying in the alley. Bit rude, that. You could’ve at least tossed him in the clinic, so he didn’t get mistaken for trash by the garbage men.

Over by the Rodion station, Rewind and Chromedome are staring up at the stars playing connect-the-dots-to-grievously-harm-Prowl, not at all paying attention to the task at hand. Rewind remembers that they’re in the past, and that Dominus Ambus isn’t currently missing at this particular point in time. When he mentions this, Chromedome realizes that they’ve never had an actual goddamn conversation about Rewind’s first husband, in all their years of marriage. Cue the awkward silence.

Wow, talk about #relationshipgoals.

Rewind is thinking about using the timecase to go back and find out what the hell happened to Dominus, Though he super promises that he wouldn’t mess with the events of the past. Unless Dominus died, or got hurt, or got a new husband, or caught a space-cold. Chromedome doesn’t like this, more for the fact that Dominus being around would mean that CDRW wouldn’t happen. Also, Chromedome would probably likely be fucking dead, considering how their relationship started in a literal suicide clinic. He doesn’t say that bit, but damn if I’ll let y’all forget how much of a fucking mess these two are.

When Rewind is asked if this is what he wants, he doesn’t have an answer.

Then Whirl pipes up, because he’s also here, and privy to this conversation, not that he cares. No, Whirl’s more interested in the fact that he’s here— Past Him, that is. Turns out that today was the day that Megatron was arrested, though it hasn’t happened just yet.

Speaking of Megatron, guess who’s at Maccadam’s with Impactor? Riptide takes notice of the future warlord as he comes back with the drinks for the table. I suppose Cybertron’s currency hasn’t changed in the last 4 million years. Cyclonus expresses an appreciation for the arts, Tailgate talks about how Getaway thinks he’s really cool, and Rodimus makes a vaguely worried face in the background.

Tailgate’s been wronged, however, as his drink lacks a straw. Seeing as he has a horrible garbage-disposal mouth, this simply will not do. Luckily, Rung— Time Travel Team Rung, not the guy passed out in the alley— is on the case.

Oh, now that’s not proper bar patron etiquette!

The art then gets kicked back to the first issue Roberts ever properly wrote for IDW, as we revisit the first time Rung was ever on-panel. It goes just as well for him this time as it did in The Transformers #22.

The infamous bar fight breaks out, Riptide risks delicate scientific equipment to keep Impactor from getting murdered, and the gang scrapes Rung off the table and skedaddles on out of there. Outside, the cops show up, and Brainstorm wonders why he even bothers.

Over in the present, Perceptor warns Ultra Magnus to not look out the windows that don’t exist in the room they’re currently in, because things have gotten hairy. The Lost Light is now the only thing in the universe that’s experiencing time, likely due to the fact that whatever’s about to happen in the past is coming up soon. Magnus, who seems to have grown an extra five feet since the last time we saw him, may not be a scientist by trade, but he knows that this isn’t good. Megatron takes the opportunity to finally put the pieces of this puzzle together, and figures out what Brainstorm’s really up to.

Lovely to meet you, Mr. Recognized. May I call you Not?

Back in the past, over at the Rodion police station, Springarm and Wheelarch are having a really rough evening, as Rewind and Chromedome fight over whether or not they can intervene. Whirl just sorta stares off into space, until some new folks approach the station, and they’re not here to play games.

Whirl flies into a rage, leaping down from the roof and attacking the large robots with his pointy knees of death. Chromedome restrains him before he can actually kill anyone, as Rewind turns into a data slug and falls off the roof in the background. It turns out, Whirl knows these guys personally, as they were the one who destroyed his watch-making studio after he left the aerial corps.

Bro, what is your lower lip doing?

Of course, that’s not all they did, as the guy on the ground proceeds to tell Whirl, to his own detriment. Turns out that the Senate that had Whirl empurataed was controlled by the Functionists, who invented empurata as punishment for those who would oppose their sense of order.

Whirl takes the news about as well as he can.

In the present, Megatron clarifies for Ultra Magnus what he meant by them having made a terrible mistake. All the points that Brainstorm’s jumped to have been major events in Megatron’s own life. They made the assumption that Brainstorm was going to kill Orion Pax, what with the whole “secret Decepticon affiliation” thing, but it looks like his real target was Megatron himself. And his last stop? The day Megatron was born.

Be sure to join us next time to watch Brainstorm murder an infant!

[peachesncremate]

How about Cyclonus and Brainstorm getting it on when Cyclonus tries to explain what Brainstorm's wings have been saying (with lots of appropriate tactile demonstrations of course)?

(Aka brainstorm-has-a-praise-kink.doc)

“If you don’t learn how to speak properly with your wings i’m going to wrench them off-” Brainstorm froze where Cyclonus had cornered him in the bar, looking startled. “Excuse me?” “Your damnable wings. Either stop projecting your desperate attempts at garnering interest to the whole ship or I’m going to rip them off and be rid of the problem.” He didn’t look any less dumbstruck as he stared at the purple jet. He replied again “Huh?” His wings tipped asymmetrically. 

Confused, clueless. Cyclonus looked exhausted, running a clawed servo over his own face. “You are hopeless-” He reached out, grabbing the scientist by his wing to drag him out of the bar. The appendage twitched hard in his tight grip. “Wait- wait, wait where are we going?” “To give you lessons.”

They stood in Cyclonus’s empty habsuite now, Cyclonus manually moving Brainstorm’s wings into position to show him how to communicate properly. “Up and back like this, you do this one quite often, you’re saying you’re annoyed. See how it looks on my wings?” “It looks no different than the last two you showed me, how am I supposed to notice those changes on your tiny wings?” they flicked back into the annoyed position Cyclonus was trying to show perfectly. “Yes, see, like that. Good.” Cyclonus didn’t need the scientist to speak to make it obvious that his words of praise was affecting Brainstorm in an… unconventional way. His wings- his over-expressive, blunt, oblivious wings which had started this issue in the first place- did a very good job of conveying that. I’ll be good, don’t stop, look at me-

It was enough to make him freeze, staring at the shorter jet with a hint of shock. “Is this… exciting you?” Brainstorm laughed nervously. “I have no idea what you’re talking about-” his wings twitched. 

Embarrassed, unsure, disappointed- Cyclonus forced his own wings into a neutral position, deciding to ignore it. “Hm. You know annoyance now. Show me happy.” It took Brainstorm a moment to get the tilt right, but his wings flicked up into the gesture even if it was a bit clumsy. “A little more back, like this.” He pressed gently until his wing tipped correctly. “Good-” They flicked immediately back up into another pleased motion. 

Keep looking, see i’m good- Brainstorm watched Cyclonus’ optics track his wing movements. They immediately folded back in embarrassment again. Cyclonus couldn’t deny that, as annoying as he seemed to be, Brainstorm painted a rather alluring picture up close and desperate for attention like this. He fell into the impulse and grabbed his wings, tracing the downward askew angle they had taken. “Embarrassed. You can’t lie to me, not with these. Are you that desperate for praise that once you get it you melt?” 

Brainstorm made an unintelligible noise, his wings pressing up into Cyclonus’s hands. They were begging. More, please touch, look at me, i’m so good, look at me. He traced up the new angle, still showing him what he was saying. “Here, you’re saying ‘Look at me.’ I’m looking at you, I see you. You don’t have to beg me you shameless thing.” His voice had dropped into a growl. 

The teal jet choked out a staticky “Oh Primus-” his wings flicking down and then up in an open display of want. Cyclonus’ engine purred. “How about you guess what you’re telling me now?” “I- I--” Brainstorm stuttered, his wings flicking again “I want-” “Hm? Want what?” He leaned in closer, feeling Brainstorm shiver against him. “Anything- Oh, Primus, this is-” His plating shuddered.  “I want you to keep talking-” “Good bot. See, it isn’t so hard to learn what you’re saying, is it?” Cyclonus watched as Brainstorm slumped against the wall and practically whined. This was rapidly spiralling out of control, but Cyclonus couldn’t find it in himself to care. He carefully ran the tips of his claws over the bottom edge of the wings. “Can you show me ‘please’ now?” He growled low into Brainstorm’s audial. Brainstorm’s cooling fans clicked on at the same time that his wings dipped down perfectly into a begging position. “Such a good, smart mech. Look at how pretty your wings move when you think about what to say with them.” Cyclonus palmed over Brainstorm’s modesty cover with one hand, tracing the angle of his wing with the other. “Now, tip them up like this, a little further up- good, this is flirtatious. This is saying ‘come get me’.” Brainstorm made a choked off noise, flicking his wings between pleading and flirtatious with this newfound information. He rocked against Cyclonus’s hand, his modesty plating snapping back. Cyclonus removed his hand “Oh Primus- Come on, will you just-” “Say it with your wings and I might consider giving you what you want.” Cyclonus tapped the wing he was holding with the tips of his fingers. they dipped down into a plead again, fluttering in a coy ‘frag me’ sort of way. He plunged two of his fingers into Brainstorm’s valve as soon as his wings dipped, screwing them roughly in and out. Brainstorm’s wings flicked up into a happy position. yes, more, good. 

The desperate sound that his vocalizer made caused Cyclonus’ fans to kick on. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The purple jet ground his palm against Brainstorm’s anterior node, lubricant dripping over his fingers and making the sound of them disappearing into the white and teal valve absolutely obscene. Brainstorm wiggled and arched, trying to spear himself further onto the digits pumping into him. He started to say something, but stopped short with a whine when Cyclonus gave him a pointed look. His wings moved instead, begging. More, I want it, give me more.

Cyclonus sunk a third digit into him easily. “That’s it, you’re so wet for me. Tell me what you want, you’re doing so well.” Brainstorm threw his helm back against the wall, his leg hiking up to give Cyclonus a better angle. His wings beat out a pattern of desperate, want more, close, please please please-

Who was Cyclonus to deny that kind of a request? He ground his palm harder against Brainstorm’s anterior node, thrusting the three fingers hard and fast into the dripping valve, grinding them against his ceiling node at the apex of the movement until the teal jet was almost screaming out his overload. His wings jerked back into an overwhelmed and pleased motion, electricity dancing up his frame until he slumped back against the wall, fans working hard to cool off. 

Brainstorm looked completely wrecked, wings still never shutting up. Satisfied, happy, look at how pretty I am.   “So, when can we make time for lesson two?” Cyclonus picked him up, pinning him against the wall, his own wings dipping to say challenge accepted, want, mine.

[hailmegatron113]

MTMTE Crew Avatar Element Headcanons (I wrote this instead of sleeping)

Okay so I recently got the inspiration to make headcanons about the elements the MTMTE crew would bend in the Avatar universe annnd here they are...

Rodimus- Fire. Duh-duh. I mean... what else could I give him.

Magnus- Hmmm. I guess he would be a non-bender or earth-bender. One of those two. But I can’t really see him as a fire, water, or air-bender.

Megatron- Non-bender. Character-wise, he would be a sorta mix between Jet and Zaheer. I waaaasss thinking about calling him and earth bender(because....mines), but story-wise it wouldn’t fit as well as making him a non-bender.(I’ll explain the AU I have in mind later)

Ratchet- Water. Water. Waaaaaaaaaterrrr. Cause—cause healing and—and....healing. I think he’d be basically a more grumpier version of elderly Katara in TLOK, just sayin. (Btw. All medics are gonna be water-benders)

Drift- Fire. I headcanon Dai Atlas as an air-bender, but calling him one would be.... problematic. In this AU I think Crystal City would basically be the Southern Air Temple, and that when Drift(Deadlock) gets integrated into the society there, Dai teaches him basically the Uncle Iroh Doctrine and helps him understand how to use his fire-bending abilities not for destruction but for... other things, hippy-voodoo spiritual things. Woo! This is a lot. Okay! Next character!

Brainstorm- Swamp-bender. I imagine he’d know all of the plants and different classifications(or think he knows all of the plants and classifixations) and would be like how he is in every fan fic ever created. Basically a gay, British, botanical Varrick.

Percy!- Air.

Rung- Non-bender. The main problem for me here is how his identity as Primus would fit in this AU. But since I can’t imagine him bending any of the four elements, Imma say that he’s a non-bender.

Nautica- Water, I refuse to explain myself on this one. Naughty Nautica is a water bender. End of story.

Skids- Huh. Skidsy’s a bit weird. I mean... Non-bender? Again, I can’t see him bending earth, fire, water, or air. Im honestly stumped.

Thunderclash- Earth. I have no other it’s for him.

Tailgate- Oh my sweet precious, little boy! Non-bender. Though when his spark gets a power-up, Earth. I think it would be so precious and just plain hilarious if on the DJD battle-scene he just bends giant pieces of rock and hurls then at the Deceptions.

Cyclonus- Metal-bender. Yeah. Metal-bender. I can see him in his little scenes where he scratches his faceplate outstretching the metal at his digit-tips and using that. Also, it would make his fights with Whirl reeeeaaaalllly cool.

Whirl- Well, Nutjob. I’d hate to say this to to you but.....congratulations! You’re a late blooming air-bender! Just. Like. Bumi.

And lastly, Swerve- Now while it would be cool if he water-bends the crew’s drinks into their cups, what else would he do with it? For that reason, Sir, thou shalt be known as....a non-bender. ‘Cause it’s 12:15 am in the morning and most of my brain cells have gone night-night by now.

Sooooo that was fun. I’ll post my basic AU concept of this later, but for now.... Buh-Baiiiiiiii! (P.S. if I missed someone you wanted an element for feel free to hit me up about it)

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Fumes And Funeral Arrangements

And it's go boys go They'll time your every breath And every day you're in this place You're two days nearer death But you go

It was only meant to be a few days- Just a quick refuel, a shallow cruise to restock and refresh but something wanted them to stay. The engines rumbled and hissed in disagreement and both scientists called for them to be powered down for fear of something shorting or worse-

They all remembered the bad jump all those years before.

When Megatron broke his methodical gait to slam his hand on the emergency closure switch on the exit hatch; optics wild and bellowing for facemasking and respirators they all stared in shock until Rodimus’s face twitched.

“RATCHET, DO WHAT HE SAYS!”

It was an old nerve agent, explained Megatron once every face was covered, every airlock sealed; it had been banned, but neither side would give up that easy- he compared it in hushed whispers to Gideon’s Glue, he watched Perceptor and Brainstorm shudder and bid them explain.

And in the kind of church-hum you spoke the Devil’s name in, they did. How it could so silently target your lines, how it cracked and shattered your cabling and rotted away your optics from connection to gauze cover and how it smelled so sweet until your life leaked from your face and you began to feel yourself shut down.

“It was supposed to be collected by drones.”, murmured Perceptor as Brainstorm looked to the side in barely covered disgust, “But when. When the MTO program was so successful they...”

“Used some of them as disposable workers, as you all know.”, finished the jet, drumming servos against his faceplate, “Drones are good, but they don’t have the power to bust into new veins, to cart back enough supply to meet demand.”

And Rodimus remained quiet, his face twisting and twisting until the flares of his helm became Lucifer’s own crown and his baby blue optics looked like dying dusklight.

“I’m taking a team in.”, he said quietly.

Cyclonus seemed amused, the edge of his lipplates quirking up slightly, “Will you be taking a team?”

“Yes. Megs, Ratchet, both scientists. Whirl, Magnus, Drift. You’re all with me. We’ll radio back what we find, and if we need more hands.”

“Why?”, asked Megatron, optics narrowed in something like pride.

“There’s no mass disposal.”, said Rodimus, “There’s no transport pads at that process plant. There’s nothing- but two barrack buildings and the shell of a medic block.”

Perceptor looked at him in shock, “....They’re trapped. It’s a company line- those mechs are...”

“Nyon was like that. I hated it then and I hate it more now.”, spat Rodimus, “And now I got some oomph to my demands, right?”

“Very well, Captain.”, said Cyclonus quietly, “I will guard your ship. Go right our wrongs.”

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Their steps were heavy as they entered the wide maw marked ‘Entrance’. Ratchet surged forward towards the lines and belts ahead of them, calling for everyone to clear the area, to step back and let the mech vent.

An older model frame, servotips near melted away and the telltale stains at the edges of lipplates and corners of optics as they choked and coughed. Ratchet knelt quickly, panelling on his arms clicking away and open as he began to connect lines and set a scan before a hand covered his.

“Nah medic, nah, nah, nah...”, they gagged, “Lemme go, please lemme go.”

“I can help you-”

“Just make it stop hurtin’, medic- I’ve breathed the poison, there’s no saving me.”

The rest of the team caught up as the linelead stomped forth- a meeting of two stormcells on the burning room floor. They scoffed, bellowing for Ratchet to stand back and for the fallen mech to get back to work- Until Megatron’s bellow silenced every vocoder with a single sentence.

“SILENCE, LINELACKEY.”

The fear was suddenyl palpable as Ratchet then looked up with hate in his optics and reached into his supspace. With gentle words, quiet whispers he handed a thick painchip to the mech in their death throes and they looked at him with such gratitude it made his chest ache.

And then the dose was administered and their optics went dim and Ratchet watched their pulse slow and fade until there was nothing.

Rodimus walked forward, his stepping measured and controlled and leaned down- gently removing the protective gear he could see (oh, how little there was) and tucking it under his arm.

He stared at the linelead, let their stammer of “PRIME” fall on deaf audials before he nodded to Megatron. He looked to his team.

“Fall in, mechs. This place needs a little.... help.”

Brainstorm marched towards the vats and crushers, digging in a repurposed briefcase with Perceptor at his side and the pistol holsters deployed and ready. Ratchet nodded once, disconnecting and stood tall as he waved at the first line to put down their duties and follow him- a hand to his comm and calling for the medbay to report to the shell of a medical block.

The line leaders began pouring in from all corners, spitting their demands until they sputtered into nothing as they watched Megatron’s grand hand seal like a vise around the first fool’s neck and pry his authority from him like boiled crab shells.

Rodimus adjust his facemask, hooking the optic covers over his helm and wanting to commit cruelty at how well they fit.

“Foreman, what line should we run full first?”, he asked, looking to Megatron.

Surprised, and somehow proud, Megatron chuckled.

“Line four, power down and do a resync- breaktime!”, he barked, “I’ve got your replacements right here!”

He gestured at the lineleaders in front of him, and smiled with his fangs on display, “And they’re just happy to be here, right boys?!”

Rodimus stepped forward, shoving the too-clean bullies forth towards the line- threatening as they once did with kicks and snarls and threats he was all too willing to carry out until the hum and roar of machines was deafening.

Megatron doled out tasks, Rodimus calling measurements and backup as he did- watching as the one-time leaders still tried their tricks on mechs who had no qualms about killing. About righting wrongs by force.

Watching as someone stood too tall in their pedes, talking down to Brainstorm only to be forcefully turned and having Perceptor’s silent pistol under a chin- a lesson in the only language egomaniacs sometimes understand.

And Rodimus took a place as well- at the edge of the line, hands uncovered and sorting raw mineral chunks on the belt leading into a pulverizer. And as he got the rhythm, as the pattern came slowly back- he began to sing.

The old songs, the heavy melodies of mechs who new they’d die on the job- and he watched as the workers who’s lines were slowing at Megatron’s command joined in and reminded the bullies working Line Four that they were so very outnumbered.

��That- That’s a rebellion song!”, hissed a lineleader, optics darting to and from, “Don’t you give them any damned ideas, Sir Prime-”

“Do you know where I’m from?”, asked Rodimus as his tune was carried by a hundred other voices.

“...N. No sir.”

“Nyon.”, he said with an acidic smile, “I know your type, your kind of person. First, I’m gonna teach ‘em you aren’t as strong as you think you are. Then, I’m gonna teach ‘em the song. Pray I don’t teach ‘em you aren’t impervious to bullets.”

The silence and fear was palpable as he went back to singing- as there was a clatter and the rare sound of old Altihexian dockhands swearing the air black and blue like a bruise.

As lineleaders saw respirators and optic covers and heavy aprons passed around to workers- as a few were follish enough to complain that lower workers didn’t need protection- didn’t deserve to breathe easy or see clearly and then Megatron was behind them, snarling for them to get back to work-

“EYES DOWN, RATES UP BOYS- YOU AREN’T PAID TO COMPLAIN!”

Rodimus smiled as he watched the lineleaders stutter, stammer, trip and fail and face the same consequences they doled out.

Rodimus’s comm lit up with updates on the state of the workers around them- as Magnus loomed over a foreman’s door and heart the terrified rattling of armor behind it before a heavy-armored peded smashed it down with a single kick and he forced his way in amidst terrified howling.

And the intercom crackled to life, Magnus’s voice tight and cold and angry as he listed violations and broken codes- as he announced his communiques and blared the answers from owner’s voices; begging and pleading with him to do anything but expose them.

To the sound of Cybertronian voices calling for transports and bridging- and Rodimus led the worker songs with Megatron grinning at him and keeping the time with his pede.

The sound of ships in the air, of a marching squad and the shock on the faces of new forces as Rodimus wiped the grit from his face and pulled the cover off his optics.

“Welcome to The Apology Of Primus.”, he said, his smile not reaching his optics, “I hope you all are ready for an adventure- If anyone asks? It was an... anonymous tip, got it?”

The lineleaders froze, shaking as Megatron laughed and discarded his foreman’s gear in a pile.

“Shall we help with cleanup them, Captain?”, he asked cheekily.

“Of course, Megs.”, said Rodimus in sarcastic disdain, “You know I’m just a STICKLER for taking out TRASH!”

The humming of the regular working crew sounded around them as lineleaders voices rose in one begging, bargaining crescendo.

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part I: Listen - Chapter 1: A Commotion, Eager and Anxious (Previous)

Also available on AO3! Summary:  Arcee arrives on the Lost Light just as someone else is getting ready to leave. Chapter Word Count: 3010

---

“Hey, you’ve reached Captain Rodimus’ personal hailing frequency. If you’re calling to complain again about mandatory hab sweeps, please refer to recent events involving briefcases and the hereafter outlawed opening of. If you have news involving foolish, ridiculous, or nonsensical obstacles in our quest, input 1 to be transferred directly to Megatron’s personal comm line. If you have a complaint regarding sign placement, grammatically incorrect maintenance manuals, or that weird temperature difference between floors 7 and 8, input 2 for Ultra Magnus. If you’re lonely and want someone to talk to, input 3 for automatic directions to Swerve’s. Input 4 to be connected with me, provided I’m—”

Beep.

“Rodimus?”

“Blaster! Great timing, we just got back from Fortuna. Don’t talk too long, though, Magnus just handed me my prep for the hearing and these datapads are engraved with his personal insignia.”

“Sure, Rodimus. I’ve got incoming transmission from an unknown caller, not laying down any codes I’m familiar with. Tried pressing for details, but all they’re letting slip is they want to talk to you. Want me to patch them through?”

“Hm. On the one hand, unknown caller with mysterious intentions almost always means trouble, right?”

“We’ve ended up in some axel grease for it in the past, yeah.”

“And the reason we set down on Scarvix was to avoid creating more problems while we deal with the fallout from the last batch.”

“I thought it was to give the crew a day off?”

“And that’s why you’re our morale guy. Ratchet would probably tell me to ignore it, right?”

“I guess.”

“You don’t think he would?”

“Not really sure how the CMO’s opinion is relevant.”

Because Ratchet’s vote was the only one he knew.

“Yeah, never mind,” Rodimus said with a shrug, almost losing his balance in the process. “Ultra Magnus would say the same thing, anyway, and he’s counting on me to get to the hearing on time. He cares so much , he ‘summarized’ Brainstorm’s alleged code infringements himself.” He shifted the armload of datapads. The topmost pad was hanging off the edge, preparing for freefall, but trying to tilt it back to safety risked upsetting the rest of the pile.

“Nice of him,” Blaster said.

“Yep, super nice. He went to so much trouble. Really dug into the details, researched historical precedents, looked at the case from every angle. He probably buried his essay on the origins of Decepticon as an adjective somewhere in here.” The datapad tilted and dropped. Rodimus shifted his weight to one leg and kicked with the other, bouncing the pad off his knee and catching it with his teeth. “You know ‘at? Hure, ‘ut the comm hrough. ‘robably just a co’arketer, anyay.”

“Yes, sir.”

The familiar click and beat of a line being transferred. Rodimus deposited the datapad on top of his stack and started walking again, forgoing his office in favor of a detour to the middle decks. The view there was more impressive, the angle revealing the organic landscape that stretched between the Lost Light and Fortuna, a popular interstellar rest stop with enough mechanical business to make it worth the daytrip. Chomskians were their patrons of choice, but a hand over the faction insignia and most folks would let it slide. Walking the length of the Lost Light revealed a subtly changing view as the gleam of the mechanoid hub altered the silhouette of the city, and Rodimus busied himself tracking the shuttles, jets, and personal aircraft traveling in and out, letting it distract him until his comm came back.

“Am I speaking to Captain Rodimus?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Cybertronian, definitely, but otherwise unknown.

Cool .

“Yep, captain of the Lost Light and quester for the Knights of Cybertron,” he said. “What’s up?”

“This is Autobot Arcee, requesting permission to dock in the Lost Light’s shuttle bay.”

“Arcee?” Rodimus went through the list of all the Autobots he knew, ignoring the space where Arcee’s origin should have been. Some folks, MTOs especially, didn’t like to broadcast that information, and it wasn’t strictly necessary for a personal database search. Regardless, “Sorry, Arcee, I’m not remembering you. Who did you serve under?”

“New recruit. Was working with Prowl for a bit, now Optimus Prime. We’ve met.”

He had to hold himself back from shutting down the call. The datapads wobbled and he quickly righted himself.

“We have?” People who worked for Prowl were strategic about when they released that information. If she really was a new recruit, it was possible no one had explained to her yet that, ultimately, everything led back to him. It was the only justification he could find for staying on the line and not telling Ultra Magnus to initiate an immediate sweep for unauthorized listening devices.

“Well, no. But I crashed a shuttle for you. Into Galvatron.”

“You did?” And just like that he had forgotten Prowl entirely.

“I did. Me and a few others. It didn’t do much, but you and Optimus managed to take care of Vector Sigma anyway, so, bygones.”

Why couldn’t he remember this? It sounded awesome .

“Totally,” Rodimus said, feeling a swell of pride as he remembered the moment Optimus had set aside his doubts and trusted Rodimus’ word on the Matrix. Up until that point, his chosen name had felt ill-fitting, like the myriad of function tests that preceded a new harvest’s official classification. Or, in his darker moments, like the Primes of old, who claimed the Matrix’s blessing despite no legitimate connection to it. Optimus had put his faith in Rodimus, though, in his connection to the Matrix, and that faith had been rewarded , not punished . For once, his destiny hadn’t been priced in spilled energon.

Not that they hadn’t seen any.

“So you decided to get the brand and make it permanent?” he asked, pulling himself back to the present.

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, come aboard. ‘The more the merrier,’ as Megatron would never say. When do you estimate your arrival?”

“I’ve just breached atmosphere, should be there in an hour.”

“Perfect. I’ll send instructions along to open the shuttle bay doors and will be there to meet you.” He passed the news to Megatron and Ultra Magnus and was unsurprised when only the latter acknowledged the alert, as well as a bunch of forms that seemed incredibly tedious and not worth the bandwidth. Maybe once the hearing was over, he could sit down with his co-captain and remind him of the responsibilities he had agreed to as part of his deal. That would be a proper, leader-like thing to do.

Or he could let Megatron continue to wallow in whatever new misery he had concocted for himself. It certainly made his shifts easier.

He and Arcee exchanged farewells and his comm powered down, leaving Rodimus to strategize. Arcee’s arrival meant he did not have enough time to get back to his office, read through all of Magnus’ files, and make it to the shuttle bay, especially with all the effort it would take to even work himself up to unlocking the datapads. Better to make a good impression on their new guest and bump out the least pressing task. He could do his reading once Arcee was settled.

Walking around weighed down by the burden of knowledge was a drag, though, so he stuck to the part of the plan that involved getting rid of the datapads. He spent the remaining walk to his office (longer now after he had inadvertently walked in the opposite direction while on the comm) thinking about what he could do with the surprise free time. Maybe take a quick lap around the lower decks or make his first official visit to “Visages”. Something fun, carefree, and just barely skirting regulations; something normal , to start the work of convincing everyone, again, that things were going to be fine.

~*~

Ratchet was not stalling.

There was a chance he was overpreparing, but better that than the opposite. The galaxy was a big place, and if he was even slightly accurate in his guess of how far Drift would wander in his search for redemption, he would be touching corners of it even the war had never brought him to. So, an abundance of fuel was necessary, at least enough to last two bots a month plus about half that for the journey outward. Then medical supplies: wiremesh bandages, nanite gel, intravenous lines, sparkstarters, sorted boxes of nuts and screws, antiviral uploads, rust repellant, strut stabilizers, soldering wires… The shuttle was turning out better equipped than some of the mobile surgeries he had worked from during the war; even some hospitals had been dangerously low on materials he now found in abundance. For the first time, he had the resources to make sure nothing and no one would be lost to shortage, and he intended to take advantage of that new luxury.

Following that, the next logical step had been to make the rest of the shuttle comfortable as well. Two Morphy berths with recharge docks. A media library of music and movies to pass the time (the former Cyclonus’ recommendations, the latter, Swerve’s). A few selections from his private engex stash. A box of data blockers he had buried deep among the medical supplies and would claim were standard for any med kit if interrogated.

He nudged the box of Hex pieces against the wall with his foot. Was it alright there was nowhere to sit beside the naviconsole and the berths? He had though Drift would appreciate the economy of a smaller shuttle, but with the cargo loaded the atmosphere was shifting from cozy to cramped. Would Drift feel claustrophobic, reminded of squatters’ dens and Decepticon outposts? Drift was also a high-energy bot, who would probably itch for a chance to spin his wheels from time to time. Were the fuel reserves large enough to accommodate multiple planet stops?

Ratchet’s knuckle had worked its way between his teeth before he realized what he was doing. Dropping his hand, he forced himself to turn around and exit the small spacecraft. He was committed. Out of anyone on board, Drift had done the most to earn this home. If no one else was going to step up and do the right thing by returning it to him, Ratchet would resign to do it himself.

He heard a commotion, eager and anxious, as he stepped out into the shuttle bay. The hangar doors were opening, sunlight slipping through the growing crack, and several parked crafts were being taxied out of the way. Not wanting to get cut off by wandering shuttles, he hurried to the pedestrian entrance, where most of the voices were coming from: a small crowd, loiterers looking for the new source of intrigue. Whirl and Tailgate were among them, providing running commentary as the unwieldly ships skirted just shy of scraping each other’s paint off, so it was no surprise to find Cyclonus standing further off.

Perfect. Though Ratchet and Cyclonus were not on bad terms, neither had ever tried to expand their relationship past the occasional long-suffering glance. If it had been one of the bots who had his spark twisting every time he bumped into them in the hallways, Ratchet would have worried about giving his plan away, but he doubted Cyclonus cared whether the something-like-guilt was visible.

“Cyclonus,” he greeted.

“Ratchet.” The older of the two offered a polite nod, though his gaze returned to the door.

“What’s going on? Somebody forget something in Fortuna?” Ratchet kept his voice light, curiosity without investment. A change in routine could mean nothing, but by now everyone knew it could also be the start of something weird, dangerous, or a combination of the two. Either way, it would end up among Swerve’s stand-up material.

“New arrival,” Cyclonus said. “Arcee of the Darklands: a tested warrior with a spark that rivaled Galvatron’s.”

Might as well have called herself Foreboding of Doom and saved his declarative archives the search. Ratchet wondered if he should move his departure up.

“Is she here? Did I miss it?”

Rodimus’ panicked shouts preceded his stumble into the hangar. Ratchet greeted him with a pointed look, which he shouldered by simply not noticing it while his gaze darted around the room.

“Not yet, Rodimus,” Hoist announced over the loudspeaker. “We’re just getting the last shuttles cleared for landing.”

“Oh, thank Primus,” Rodimus said, tilting his head back as his fans released a cloud of warm air. “Fantastic.”

“You look like you gunned it to get here,” Ratchet said, waving away the smell of an overheated engine.

“No, that would be speeding, which is definitely against spacetime law,” Rodimus said, straightening to flash Ratchet a deeply unappreciated grin. “I ran. I told Arcee I would be here to meet her, and it would make for a pretty bad impression of the ship if the captain failed to live up to his promise.”

“Don’t you have a hearing to be getting ready for?” Ratchet asked, the question slipping past his censors. Slag. That was not the note he wanted to leave on. The stress of his impending departure was getting to him more than he had realized.

Rodimus shrugged, unaffected.

“Magnus gave me all the materials, just need to read them. Won’t take long.”

That stirred something in Ratchet’s spark.

“Good to know our justice system is under such attentive care.”

“Perhaps this is a conversation that would be better saved for when we are not moments from new introductions,” Cyclonus interjected, his deep bass distracting enough to halt those emotional processes of Ratchet’s that started to loop out of control whenever Rodimus opened his mouth. He set his vocalizer to standby, not trusting it to wait for his command, and wondered whether it would be better to get out sooner. Before his own smart mouth made his worries a reality.

The appearance of the approaching shuttle did not ease his concerns. Starting as a speck above the horizon, all optics were on it as it approached, a little blob of a spacecraft dangling over the city of Fortuna. Big, for a single occupant. Ratchet hoped he was wrong, but he noticed something further odd as it came nearer.

Whirl took care of that loose thread of optimism.

“It’s purple,” he said, with a coy look at Cyclonus, who ignored it with enviable steadiness.

“It’s a Decepticon vessel.” Ratchet had seen enough in his time. After the fall of Tyger Pax, Autobot regulations had outlawed all colors between navy and magenta for ships, and he could think of no other species brazen enough to steer a spacecraft directly into civilian airspace. “Rodimus?”

“Blaster confirmed Arcee’s ident after our call,” Rodimus said. “Bit of a garish choice for a ride, but it’s her.” He had maneuvered himself to the front of the group, standing at the front like he was putting himself on display for an honored guest.

“That is rich, coming from you.”

“Thanks, Ratch,” Rodimus said, casting over his shoulder a wink and a grin before he turned back to face the oncoming ship. Ratchet’s frown deepened and he ignored the way the gesture reminded him of Drift.

He never knew what the bot had seen in Rodimus. Short-sighted, selfish, and with an ego that could have powered the ship if he could have been bothered to contribute that much, Rodimus’ ability to perform feats no one else would attempt meant he was also prone to making mistakes they neither could have imagined. For all the time Ratchet had spent on the Lost Light , he still had no idea the limits of chaos Rodimus was capable of summoning to it, so he let triage and combat protocols idle in the background while they waited.

It was not a nice landing. The thrusters were still burning several hundred feet out, so they all heard the roar of wind buffeting ailerons as the shuttle struggled to slow itself down. It was only by the combined effects of the Lost Light ’s buffeting shield and the shuttle’s reverse engines that they did not suffer a catastrophic collision, and even then, the shuttle bounced as it finally touched down, coming within feet of kissing Huffer’s personal speeder. Ratchet still did not remember to vent as it struggled through taxiing, twice having to reattempt a maneuver as the combined efforts of Hoist, Rodimus, and a group of volunteers guided it to its designated space. Only when the engines finally shut down did Ratchet hear the collective sigh of multiple hydraulics systems releasing their tension.

“Guess Darkland warriors don’t need to know how to drive,” Ratchet muttered. He thought he heard Cyclonus huff, which was enough to get a chuckle out of him.

That was it, though, because in the next moment Rodimus was rushing to the lowering hatch, his spoiler flicking behind him like an insect wing. Ratchet caught a glimpse of a labyrinthine cargo hold before Arcee stepped forward, filling the space, and descended rapidly. He tensed, ready for something else to come charging out from behind her, but besides a look passed between her and Cyclonus nothing immediately hostile revealed itself.

“Welcome to the Lost Light,” Rodimus said, standing aside to let Arcee descend. The hatch raised as soon as she was standing on the Lost Light’s floor, blocking Ratchet’s view again.

“Yes, thank you.” Her tone was clipped, not the melodic veil of sophistication Ratchet had come to associate with Cyclonus, and she scanned the assembled bots with a look of blatant suspicion. Ratchet could relate to that, if nothing else.

He glanced at the purple ship once more while Rodimus led Arcee in the direction of the rec rooms while the rest of the crowd dispersed. Ratchet himself would never believe in anything as a sign or omen, but the sight of the purple plating made old welds ache, and he found his resolve. He would go get a drink. He would attend the hearing. And then, goodbyes or no, he was leaving that night.

[kagebros]

Eroding

Summary: Takes place in Lost Light #16 - #18. Wing's time in the "Afterspark" almost feels like paradise. Eventually it only leads to his desolation as he realises where he truly is. Warnings: Major Character Death, Wing does not get a break :( Word Count: 2000

Wing wakes up somewhere he’s never been before. The last thing he remembers was the cramped space of the ever shrinking ship, Skip, holding Cyclonus back as tensions rose to the boiling point and suddenly there were alerts of having to bail out of the ship to avoid being crushed. He died. He and his whole crew died. He steps out onto the balcony and he cannot believe his optics. There stands a gigantic Matrix of Leadership up in the sky, but he doesn’t smile. He frowns instead as he recognises exactly where this place is. His past keeps coming back to haunt him. 

Wing is with Brainstorm, Nautica and Nightbeat during this. He finds them examining one of the slabs and they wave him over, knowing he was part of the Circle of Light. It leaves a sick feeling in his tank as he looks at the scrawling on the stone slab. He’s the one to explain his suspicions that they’re in the Afterspark after piecing together the events that happened. But Wing is skeptical. His relationship with faith still was healing, the cracks of it still never fully fixed. He knew that it was fragile and easily broken. So he didn’t go into this with fully believing this was in fact the Afterspark. But then the thought hits his mind. And he transforms into his jet form without a word, leaving Brainstorm, Nautica and Nightbeat to their own devices. 

He flies relentlessly, scanning, searching for him. And when he sees the tell tale sign of white paint and long pointed finials does he land. It’s Drift. Sitting there in a kneeling position. Wing doesn’t move for a while. He’s frozen to his spot as he stares at him from behind. There from in front of him is Drift’s voice. Clear as day. 

“Are you going to just stand there or don’t you want to see my face?” Drift asks. And in that moment Wing rushes in and tackles Drift to the ground in a hug. Years and years of pent up grief, sorrow and longing pour out of Wing as he sobs in Drift’s grasp. It takes a bit for Wing to gather himself but Drift takes his servos and pulls him up, the two walking. “What happened after I died,” Drift asks. There’s a hitch in Wing’s breath and a falter in his step as he recalls. 

“I pretty much died with you that day, Drift,” Wing then starts. “New Crystal City… no longer was the utopia I saw it to be. Everything was just… grey and lifeless. I lost myself when you died that day, Drift,” Wing says. “I changed for the worse,” he confesses. “That annoyingly optimistic Wing you met… died the day you sacrificed yourself. For me.”

“I don’t regret it, you know,” Drift says. “I couldn’t stand to see you die, especially because of the mistakes I made. I think it would have eaten at me if you died because of me.”

“Then that makes two of us,” Wing laughs weakly. He can’t believe what’s happening right now. Drift’s beside him. ...It doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s because he’s spent so much time with Ratchet or away from New Crystal City, but this doesn’t exactly reignite his faith in Primus or anything. It only feels worse when Drift says something that doesn’t feel characteristic of him. It’s only something that Wing’s heard in his dreams if anything. 

“I waited for you, you know,” Drift then says. “I didn’t want to ascend without seeing you again.”

“We don’t have to,” Wing says this time. “We can just stay here and make up for lost time.” Drift frowns. 

“You don’t want to ascend? I thought that’s what the Circle of Light had taught you.”

“Drift, I’m no longer a part of the Circle of Light,” Wing says. “I told you I died with you that day. My faith was shattered that day.” And Wing sees Drift flicker just for a moment.

“But you’re my sparkmate,” Drift says, almost hurt from what Wing said earlier. Wing lets go of Drift’s servos as the realisation sets in.

That realisation is cut short as he’s zapped from where he is and he reappears in a dark room surrounded by familiar figures he’d seen in readings and back in New Crystal City. He sees Rodimus is in the room with him. At this moment though, it’s just Wing and the Guiding Hand. He cuts Rodimus off before he can say anything. “No,” Wing says. Only a second later do Magnus and Ratchet appear. Wing steps back in disbelief as rage fills his very core. “You’re not real,” he says out loud in defiance. His already fragile relationship with faith is shattered once again. The image of the Guiding Hand flickers. “This is just some kind of sick joke, isn’t it,” Wing then says. “That wasn’t Drift down there. Was it,” he then asks. The image flickers again and warps before the four are dropped onto the ground. 

“What just happened?” Rodimus asks. Wing stands up slowly, fists balled up tight as he shakes with a quiet rage that makes any question Rodimus has immediately go away. 

It’s all been a ruse, a trick and Wing fell right into it. That wasn’t Drift earlier. And the revelation of that leaves him devastated. 

“Come on,” Wing says after a moment. “We need to figure out what this place is before anyone gets hurt.” 

“Can you see that, Wing?” Ratchet then asks, knowing that Wing is the only one within the group right now who’s seen through all this. “‘We are all trapped light.’ I’m sure I’ve heard that phrase before...”

“I see it,” Wing replies. 

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Rodimus replies. 

“It’s not there,” Magnus says. “There’s nothing there,” he says as he looks up at the temple entrance.

Rodimus, Ultra Magnus and Ratchet enter the temple with Wing and they walk further into the halls until they see a door. The letters W-0 are painted on and Ratchet points at it.

“I suppose you can’t see this either?” Ratchet asks both Rodimus and Magnus. 

“See what?” Rodimus replies.

“That. The letter W, the number zero.”

There’s a glass pillar in the centre with green electrical energy bouncing within the walls. Surrounding it are organic looking beings on slabs essentially hooked up to this pillar.

“Some kind of lab?” Magnus asks. 

“More like a hospital...” Ratchet responds. 

“W for ward, then,” Magnus says.

“Ward zero,” Rodimus adds. 

The four converse for a bit before Wing hushes everyone. The beings on the slabs are speaking in their own languages.

“Prepare, confront, repel… they’re all saying that,” Magnus says. 

“And before you ask, no chanting is not normal,” Ratchet adds. 

“Ok, then, question two,” Rodimus starts. Wing immediately draws his swords. ”When does a chant become a summons?”

There’s the sound of rumbling and the room is suddenly filled with four stone golems. 

“How do we get ourselves into these situations?” Ratchet asks in exasperation. “And more to the point, how do we get out of them?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I know these guys,” Rodimus then says. 

“Old friends, right? Please say they’re old friends,” Ratchet sighs. One of the golems punches Rodimus. 

“To be fair, that’s not conclusive proof either way,” Magnus adds. The four manage to dispatch the stone golems fairly easily, Wing slicing through one of them with his swords and immediately kicking one towards Magnus to finish off. 

“I have to say, last time we met, they put up more of a fight,” Rodimus says as he deals the finishing blow. 

“Not that you’re complaining,” Magnus says.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Rodimus agrees.

During this time Wing hasn’t said anything. He’s still stewing in his anger from earlier and while Ratchet converses with Magnus to figure out what exactly this is and how to disable it, Wing takes a chair and throws it through the glass chamber. There’s a bright light that is almost overwhelming to the four of them until the light subsides, leaving them in a more modern medical setting. Before Magnus can scold Wing for his abrupt action, Rodimus places a servos on Magnus’ arm as if to tell him this wasn’t the time. So instead he turns towards Ratchet as he explains where they are. And what this place truly was. 

When Rodimus gets to the part of where the program used their innermost desires and projected that, Wing feels even sicker than before. And then the hollowness comes back much much worse than Wing ever imagined. He snaps out of it when he hears Magnus.

“I’ll let the others know. Whirl? Are Trailcutter and Pipes still there? Because if they are, they won’t be for much longer I need you to -” Magnus pauses. “This isn’t the Afterspark, the dead haven’t come back to life and don’t ever call me Chunky.” There’s a response. “They probably think they are real. Which is why you have to tell them the truth - before they disappear like the Matrix. If anyone wants to say their goodbyes… They haven’t got much time-” Wing doesn’t hear the rest of what Magnus has to say before he races out of the room and stands outside, trying to let his mind be willing just one last time. 

And Drift’s in front of him once again. But Wing can see the illusion already fading away slowly.

“I just need to tell you this. Any semblance of you, I don’t care if you’re fake,” Wing starts. “But I love you. I always loved you from the moment you told me why you joined the Decepticons, I loved you. I just wish I had the chance to tell you when you were alive.” He takes Drift’s servos into his and then embraces him for one last time. “I love you,” he breathes. And he’s gone.

And Wing collapses to his knees, hangs his helm low as he grits his dermas, optics shut tight as he cries again. He gets back up and goes back into the ward. He sees Nautica’s in there this time and sees a familiar greyed out mech in the arms of someone he hasn’t seen before. But that mech. His optics dim as his spark feels like it’s about to give out with the amount of grief that washes over him. 

“Axe?” Wing calls out. 

“I’m sorry, Wing - if I’d known he was a friend, I wouldn’t have, you know, used him to make an entrance,” Nautica says apologetically. Wing doesn’t reply as he takes his dear friend’s lifeless frame into his own arms. “I found him in a morgue downstairs - along with hundreds more like him.” Wing looks towards Nautica now. 

“Did you see a mech that looked similar to me,” Wing asks sternly. He’s hoping desperately that Redline wasn’t among them too. 

“Yes,” Nautica replies. “Wing. I. I think the entire Circle of Light was down there.” His spark feels like it’s about to give out again. He immediately begins to look around in Axe’s compartment and everyone shoots him a look of disgust and confusion. “What are you doing?!” Nautica asks. Wing ignores everyone’s protest and finds the thing he’s looking for, an old miniature datapad. When he looks at it, the words that Wing wrote so long ago hit him like a train. 

Don’t look for me.

The datapad clatters to the floor. He doesn’t feel real right now. Today has just been blow after blow after blow and Wing thought he could fight against it and stay strong. But his will is so weak. And he feels it about to happen.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Wing breathes. It gives out. Everything in him shuts down and he collapses to the floor. He can’t hear the frantic panic of everyone. He doesn’t hear Rodimus and Ratchet’s panicked voices.

WING! Wing! Wing, wake up, wake up. Wake UP, WING!

[bunny-robots]

Transformers Pictionary/Skribbl.io List

(Put together by bunny_robots)

This list is meant for use at https://skribbl.io/ or similar websites, or heck, if you are having a transformers birthday party or hanging out at a convention you could use these for prompts too! Go wild! 

In the case of Skribbl, You must format the words with a comma between each one (which has been done for you) and there is also a character limit of 30 for each word/phrase, so if you wish to add additional words please keep that in mind! 

Happy Drawing and Guessing!

General Characters/References/Things in No Particular Order:

Energon,Autobot,Decepticon,Optimus Prime,Megatron,Starscream,Conjunx Endura,The Touch,Matrix,Cybertron,Unicron,Spark Eater,DJD,Takara Tomy,FlameToys,Til All Are One,Swindle,Maccadam's,Overlord,Mnemosurgery,The Pet,Kaon,Rodimus,Pipes,Trepan,Skyfire,Blurr,James Roberts,Lockdown,Chromedome,Rewind,Tailgate,Cyclonus,Skids,Swerve,Sideswipe,Devastator,Starscream's Crown,Shockwave,Prowl,Blaster,Soundwave,Ravage,Hot Rod,Rescue Bots, Shia Lebeouf, Bumblebee,Ultra Magnus,Tarn,My First Blaster,Waspinator,Rattrap,Dinobot,Elita One,Arcee,Springer,Wheeljack,Seekers,Jazz,Laserbeak,Sunstreaker,Lambo Twins,Spoiler, Weapon Up Wallflowers,Blades,Chief Charlie Burns, Chase,Boulder,Heatwave,Nickel,Vos,Ratchet,Drift,Pharma,Deathasaurus,Beast Wars,Fire in the Sky,Michael Bay, Transform,Gun, Roll Out,Rise Up,Darkest Hour,Dare,Sari,Isaac Sumdac,Weird Al,Dare to be Stupid,Devastation,Hasbro, Knock off, 3rd Party,Kreo,Mint in Box,Loose Joints,Leonard Nimoy,Orson Welles,Casey Kasem, Transformers TCG,Cheetor, Megan Fox,Mark Wahlberg, Kaon,Hedonia,Whirl, Sparkplug,Chromedome,Rewind, Eject,Trailcutter,Trailbreaker,Nightbeat,Rung,Fortress Maximus,Tyrest,Dark Cybertron,Nautica, Riptide,Getaway,Simpatico,Brainstorm,Thunderclash, The Scavengers,Grimlock,Red Alert,Pinkie Pie,Alex Milne,Wing, Perceptor,Mirage,Visages,Swerve's,Windblade,Briefcase,Curly Straw, Swearth,Quintessons,AllSpark,Blurr Cube,Fulcrum,Spinister,Wheelie,Wreckgar,Griffin Rock,Kade,Dani,Shockwave,cygate,knockout,breakdown,holoform,Processor, Spark,Sparkling, Bulkhead, Bob, Nightbeat, Nyon,Beachcomber,Rumble,Frenzy,Coneheads,Skywarp,Thundercracker, Buster,Verity Carlo,Sunstorm,Miko,Dinobots,Lugnut,Strika,Astrotrain,Deadlock,Turbofox,Petrorabbit,Blitzwing,Shattered Glass,Cliffjumper,Jet Twins, Bluestreak, Smokescreen,Last Stand of the Wreckers,Hoist, Spike Witwicky, Seaspray, Steve, vehicons, Slipstream, Bruticus, One Shall Stand One Shall Fall, Sharkticons,Insecticons,Froid,Optics,Gears,Powerglide,Astoria Carlton Ritz,Organics,Omega Supreme,Sentinel,Primus,Jack Darby, Raf,Transformation Cog,Forcefield Face,Minibots,Cassetticons,Firestar,Chromia,Velocity,Strongarm, Ghost of Starscream,Robots In Disguise, More than Meets the Eye

Random words to throw people off or mix it up: 

My Little Pony, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Sailor Moon, Iron Man, The Avengers, The Terminator, Gundam Wing, ETC ETC ETC (ADD MORE TO YOUR HEART’S DESIRE!!)

Pairings / “Questionable Content” that you may or may not want to add to your game: 

KOBD, MegOp, Megastar, Skystar, Dratchet, Driftceptor, Sticky, Spike, Plug and Play, Valveplug, Cybertron After Dark, two trucks having sex, Shockblurr, Cygate, CDRW, Self Insert, Mechpreg, Size Difference, Spark Bonding, Overload, Starscream’s butt, ETC

[notwhelmedyet]

Younger

I will edit this later! I will post this properly on ao3! I will (probably) write a part 2. But in the meantime, before I go to bed: CYWHIRL WEEK DAY 1: THERE ARE NO PROMPTS BECAUSE I INVENTED CYWHIRL WEEK MYSELF, RIGHT NOW

Title: Younger, Part 1 Relationships: Cywhirlgate, Cywhirl Summary: Whirl decides it would be easier to go back in time and witness Cyclonus’s past than get him to spill his secrets. Warnings: Violence, Feelings

“You can’t just say that and then not explain!”

Cyclonus smiled, glancing over at Whirl with mischief sparkling in his optics. Of course he could not explain. This was the mech who had once promised Whirl that “Nobody is telling anyone anything, ever.” He was the grandmaster of not telling people things.

“Why did you even say anything, then?” Whirl groaned. He crowded into the windowseat beside Cyclonus and caught his chin with one claw so Cyclonus couldn’t coyly look away. “You’d tell Tailgate if he asked.”

“Tailgate would never,” Cyclonus said. “He’s from a time back when people had manners.”

“I would never!” Tailgate agreed. The fucking traitor. “Cyclonus doesn’t like talking about his past. Except for the songs. He loves talking about the songs.”

“And the arts,” Cyclonus put in.

“Oh yes! And the architecture! All the good things in life,” Tailgate said happily, climbing in between them on the windowseat, treating Cyclonus’s chest like a pillow. He batted at Whirl’s claw until Whirl released their conjunx and settled down between them and the hot glass of the windowpane.

Cyclonus hummed thoughtfully. “It’s better to remember the good things.”

“Yes, yes, I agree and all but blue?”

“I wasn’t aware it was a scandalous color,” Cyclonus remarked, with a straight face because he was a bastard who lived to torment the curious bots of the world and Whirl in particular.

“You huffed disapprovingly when I mentioned people swapping out their faceplates the other day. You have a legit scar on your leg, like a prehistoric urchin who’s never heard of a medic. And it’s not like you got a paint job - I’ve seen you with your arm torn off, you’re purple down to your base plating. Come ooooon, Cyclonus. I’m curious. It’s in my nature.”

“I think it’s better this way,” Tailgate said. “It’d look funny if we were a matched set. People would tease us. Just think of what Brainstorm would say - just awful! Plus, you’re so handsome in purple,” he said into Cyclonus’s chest, because his tiny frame belied what a massive flatterer he was.

“Do you really want to know?” Cyclonus asked.

“Yes.”

“Galvatron had me changed when I became his Warrior Second,” Cyclonus said, face suddenly serious. And aw, fuck it. Those were the magic words that unlocked the secret palace of ‘Whirl never getting to know anything about Cyclonus’s past’. Whirl didn’t even understand what a Warrior Second fucking was, though Rewind and Nautica both promised him it was a translate for ‘bodyguard’ or ‘retainer’ in ancient texts. Not that he’d asked. Whirl would never snoop in Cyclonus’s secret palace of secrets.

“You know, sometimes I think it would be easier to ask Brainstorm to make me a time machine and check for myself than to get you to explain anything about where you come from,” Whirl said.

“That would be a terrible idea,” Cyclonus said.

“Does that mean you’ll explain?” Whirl asked.

“No.” Cyclonus leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Whirl’s face. “I love you, but no.”

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

“Brainstorm, if I asked nicely, would you make me a time machine?” Whirl asked. “Cyclonus refuses to tell me anything about his days before he was old and mysterious.”

Brainstorm raised his hand in a ‘please do not continue’ motion. “You really think it’s easier for me to build you a time machine than you to talk to your conjunx?”

“For sure.”

Brainstorm looked over at Perceptor, focused on his data analysis on the other side of the lab, then looked back at Whirl. “Yeah okay. But we’re not making more alternate timelines. Once was enough. Gonna need some sort of temporal lock so anything you splinter off vaporizes after the jump...hey, Percy! Want to go over some purely theoretical time machine plans?”

Perceptor looked at Whirl, then looked at Brainstorm, then back at Whirl. “You do know I can hear you, right? Even when you’re not talking to me?”

“Well Primus-damn-it you should have mentioned having a superpower at some point before now, Percy,” Brainstorm said. He scooted back on his lab stool until they were sitting side by side. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And you get to safety check me so we don’t kill everyone or destroy the universe!”

“And if that isn’t the definition of fun, what is,” Perceptor said dryly. He shook his head. “It’d be nearly impossible for Whirl to go unnoticed in the past; you’d need to build him an attention deflector suit like Ravage used or he’d get himself killed by an angry mob.”

“And by ‘you’ you mean ‘we’,” Brainstorm agreed. “Come back next week, buddy, we’ll get right on it!”

“I was actually not agreeing,” Perceptor pointed out, with the air of a mech was used to losing a lot of stupid arguments.

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

Brainstorm had promised the case would take him to an “emotionally resonant moment”, no guarantees which one. Whirl had turned the dial almost all the way to the red, which Brainstorm had helpfully labeled “Long Time Ago”. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. Mostly he’d been expecting the thing to explode and Brainstorm to pop out of the woodwork to give him a PSA on why you shouldn’t ask your friends to make you time machines. He hadn’t expected a war.

He ducked under a sword swing and staggered back, shocked by the sheer noise of it. It looked like Brainstorm’s attention deflector whatsit was working, nobody was swinging at him on purpose. Still, he didn’t want to be accidentally killed either. He transformed and took off, spotting a nearby outcrop of rock where he could spectate.

From that vantage point he could see it wasn’t a war at all. It was the end of a losing battle. There was an army, arrayed in ranks of purple and gold across the field. And then there were the last survivors of some local militia bunched at the center of the mass. Their shieldwall was three bots deep and domed like a forcebubble but it was slowly being crushed between the mass of the army surrounding it. The mechs who hadn’t made it to the retreat to the shieldwall were outnumbered ten to one, poorly armed, and dying quickly.

And Cyclonus was down there somewhere.

It went on for longer than it had any right to. Whirl alternated between pacing and muttering “Just fucking surrender!” at the losing side. He didn’t like routs unless he was on the winning side.

A jet swooped down towards the field and the army pulled back to clear a space for him as he landed and transformed. Finally someone he recognized! And wherever Galvatron was, Cyclonus was sure to be nearby.

Galvatron signaled to his troops - because they were definitely his troops and the fighting stopped. “Defenders of the lower temples!” Galvatron bellowed. His voice seemed to shake the very rocks of the valley. “There will be no victory for you here today! If any of your leaders yet live, let them come forth and bargain for your lives.”

The shieldwall rippled, then broke. They dug their shields into the dirt in front of them, sheathed their swords and brought their lances to rest behind their shields. Two mechs stepped out from the front line. One was tall and slender, with white finials and absurdly pointy shoulders. The other was Cyclonus.

Oh, he looked different, but it was unmistakably him. His frame was a lush velvet blue, except for his arms smeared purple with gore. His bearing was proud, rigid, unforgettable.

Galvatron turned to the white mech. “Your name, soldier.” Whirl had to adjust up the gain on his audials to hear him, the near-silent movements of the crowd increasing like the roar of a river.

“Montalon.”

“I give you a choice, Montalon. Promise me your loyalty. Swear to me your spark and prove your use. If you do this I will spare your soldiers.”

The white mech ground their spear into the ground and answered in defiance. “My only loyalty is to the Lower Temples!”

The point of their spear clattered to the ground as Galvatron struck it down with his axe. Whirl glanced away before the beheading but he couldn’t mistake the sound. When he looked back Galvatron had shifted to point his axe at Cyclonus.

“And you. Is your loyalty also only to the lower temples? You cannot save them. You can still save your soldiers.”

Cyclonus stood silent for one awful moment. He looked to the head of his fellow commander, greying in the dirt at his feet. “Tell me the price, Lord Galvatron, and I will meet it.”

A great wailing rose up from the defeated soldiers behind him. Cyclonus hunched his shoulders, but did not turn to look. One of the soldiers tried to break away, a jet in black and gold, before being hauled back by his fellows.

“Peace, soldiers of the lower temples!” Galvatron called. His soldiers moved to circle them, weapons braced and shields raised. “I offer you mercy, for his sacrifice. Do not waste it.”

Whirl couldn’t tear his optic away from the black and gold jet, held up by three mechs and sobbing in their arms, all military composure gone.

Cyclonus stood like a statue, like an icon of an old god cast upon a plinth. But when Galvatron asked his name he answered in a voice ravaged by grief. First love, perhaps.

“I offer you the same bargain. Become my Warrior Secondus. Prove your worth and then swear to your spark to me, in fealty until death. If you do this I will offer your soldiers mercy, Cyclonus of Upper Tetrahex.”

“Who will I face, and when?” Cyclonus asked.

“You will face me. Now.” Galvatron said, voice warm with mirth.

If he hadn’t been looking so closely Whirl would have missed Cyclonus flinch. “Very well, Lord Galvatron,” Cyclonus said the name like a snake spitting venom. “Arms?”

Galvaton waved dismissively at Cyclonus. “Keep both swords. If you can cut me, the battle ends.”

“Understood.” Cyclonus said.

“Back three paces!” Galvatron bellowed. He raised his axe and dropped the pommel against the ground three times, the ranked soldiers retreating in an answering stomp-stomp-stomp. A matched set of guards with tall shields pushed their way to the front, forming a circle to mark the battlefield.

Galvatron hefted his axe and said, “Draw your weapon and attack, Cyclonus of Tetrahex. May you not disappoint me.”

Cyclonus stepped back, then back again, dropping his hands to the sword on his left. Then he was off, springboarding off a shield to swing his sword at the back of Galvatron’s neck. Galvatron moved the haft of his axe to block the cut and the blade rang out, shattering.

Whirl had taken Galvatron’s challenge to be a duel to first cut. He realized his mistake on the first swing of Gavatron’s axe, which caught Cyclonus across the shoulders as he landed. Cyclonus staggered away, broken sword in hand and pink streaming down his back like a cloak. The fight did not end.

It wasn’t that Cyclonus was a poor fighter, though Whirl expected he’d already been beyond exhaustion when the duel started. It was that the blades he was using were fucking useless. Cyclonus landed a stroke across Galvatron’s braced forearms and didn’t make a scratch, though the blade squealed in protest.

“A smart swordfighter never lets his blades grow dull,” Galvatron commented, as he rammed the pommel of his axe against Cyclonus’s helm, knocking him to the ground. Galvatron strode forward and raised his axe to make the final, fatal blow. Cyclonus lay there, releasing both his swords to sink his fingers into the dirt. He looked up at Galvatron and made no plea to stop.

The axe swung down and Cyclonus finally lurched into motion. His legs kicked out, throwing his body onto his side and knocking Galavtron off his feet. The axe buried itself in Cyclonus’s shoulder but his other arm was snapping up to grab Galvatron by the neck and drag him down onto his own axe.

The crowd couldn’t have been quieter if you knocked them all dead.

Galvatron’s knees hit the ground and he wrenched himself upright, revealing a cut half the length of his chest, gushing pink. Galvatron touched his hand to the cut and then took hold of the axe handle. Cyclonus’s left arm lay limp on the ground, the shoulder nearly severed. When Galvatron tore the axe free Cyclonus made his first noise of the fight, a ragged moan.

Whirl had seen corpses in better shape.

But slowly, oh so slowly, Cyclonus raised himself to his knees. Galvatron passed his axe off to some other soldier and took Cyclonus by the chin. “You may prove useful after all, Cyclonus of Upper Tetrahex. Now swear yourself to me.”

[zenniet]

How would some LL couples react to their bot!s/o having a similar large mech suit (like ultra magnus/minimus) but being nervous about interfacing in their small form? (any LL couples like maybe dratchet, or cygate, even brainstorm/percy—any pairing youd like is good!!)

Did headcanons for those three!

Drift and Ratchet want to do anything but judge or pressure you. They’re the ones who see you without your suit the most often, once you’re conjunxes. They both enjoy cuddling you close to their frames to recharge, and, even if you say you don’t need it, they like to feel like they’re protecting you. With your suit, you do quite a bit of the hard, heavy lifting around the ship, but without it, Drift and Ratchet both understand if you feel vulnerable. If you ever do come to them and request that you interface without the suit, they’re both so happy that you put that much trust in them. You can expect to be riding Drift’s face while Ratchet shows love to the sensitive wires beneath your plating.

Tailgate can be a bit pushy, ‘But we’re both minibots, it wouldn’t hurt!’. Despite his enthusiasm, he wouldn’t press any farther until you respond positively. Freaking you out or annoying you is the last thing he wants to do. Tailgate and Cyclonus are both more than capable of handling you in the suit, and with how little Cyclonus brings it up, you would have thought that he wasn’t interested in doing so without the massive armor. It’s only when Tailgate finally convinces you to do without it that you see just how much Cyclonus wants it. The big mech ends up strapped to the berth, completely at the mercy of his two minibot conjunxes, Tailgate whispering to you ‘I told you he’d like it.’

Brainstorm is probably the last mech you would expect to be as patient as he is. With how spontaneous he usually is with absolutely everything he loves, you included, you would have expected him to bring it up more than he has. You want to say that he’s patient and that he doesn’t care whether or not you frag in or out of your suit, but you’ve seen the way he’s stared at you when you step out of your armor. You’ve seen Perceptor have to drag him away and talk to him. It’s with Perceptor’s cautioning and encouragement that finally gets you to bring it up with the two of them. Perceptor brings you to the berth, pleasuring you with his digits while he keeps Brainstorm in check, the jet’s servos careful and steady as they grace your frame.

[thanksjro]

Dark Cybertron Chapter 2: Going from Zero to Antichrist Real Quick

Bumblebee and his camp buddies are trying to figure out what to do with the Titan who just popped out of the ground like a prairie dog, as the sky looks like a Lisa Frank notebook thanks to the portal to the Dead Universe. It’s honestly very nice, we should should get more pretty apocalypses like this.

Bumblebee starts throwing out orders at everyone, much to Slag’s chagrin. When Slag brings up the point that they probably can’t do much of anything to a guy roughly a hundred times bigger than they are, Bumblebee tells him to shut up and do as he’s told.

Yeah, I had about the same reaction, Slag.

So the Dinobots do their thing. Swoop, who I think is the only guy here who can fly, goes up to see what the Titan’s doing. It’s not much, other than looking really upset. Oh no, what if he’s afraid of heights? Poor guy.

Even if the Titan isn’t moving, the mere presence of the thing is jamming signals, which is kind of an issue. Ironhide’s ready to shoot it in the foot, and Arcee will help, because she’s a team player now. Bumblebee has a minor crisis over whether this is the same Titan that told Starscream he was a prophesied son of a gun, but Prowl doesn’t seem to think that it is.

Prowl, who has been suffering from short-term memory lapses over the last several months or so because a bug-man was controlling his mind.

Yeah, let’s maybe take his opinion on the matter with a grain of salt, even if he is right.

Over at the Lost Light, Orion Pax is visiting Brainstorm’s workshop, where everyone’s favorite science man is admitting to having studied the Dead Universe’s effects on the living and interviewing people who had been to the area.

Man, I sure hope that guy signed a waiver, otherwise Brainstorm’s going to be in a spot of trouble.

Then we get a quick rundown of what the Dead Universe is: an omnicognizant parallel universe that functions on fundamental principles that differ from our own and wants you to die. So, obviously not a place you would want to go to. Still, we gotta, because that’s where the plot is the Dead Universe is gonna vore Cybertron if we don’t.

Brainstorm agrees to cook something up to make the trip through the Gorlam Prime portal easier.

Back on Cybertron, the Titan looms in the distance as we check in on an oddly pristine-looking Iacon. Rattrap tells Starscream to come out of the closet, because the Titan still hasn’t moved and doesn’t seem like it’s going to anytime soon. Starscream does come out, but it’s with his arms full of weapons of Autobot design that he appropriated from the ruins of Kimia, because he doesn’t trust that Titan to not start some shit. Rattrap suggests that they maybe get a second opinion before they start murdering people for standing in a barren field.

Back on the Lost Light, there’s a little shindig going down at Swerve’s, everyone staring down the table where Optimus, Rodimus, and Ultra Magnus are seated. Swerve takes the opportunity to do what everyone else is probably really wanting to, and snaps a few photos of them for his scrapbook. As soon as he’s done, we get to the Emotions portion of our issue.

Rodimus is letting himself be vulnerable in front of the man he idolizes, and I think that’s very brave of him.

Nobody’s feeling super great about the situation they’ve been presented with, but there isn’t a lot that can be done about it now. Just gotta work with what they got. Rodimus asks Optimus how he feels about Starscream being elected leader of Cybertron.

But I thought that freedom was the right of all sentient beings? You know, like the freedom of choice in our government officials, even if they aren’t the best option we could possibly have, because at least they’re better than the guy who had bombs planted in people’s heads for crowd control purposes? Are you saying that it only counted when the concept of freedom could be manipulated so you could go kick Megatron’s ass, and that actual freedom of choice doesn’t jive with your personal sensibilities as much as you’d like everyone to think it does? No wonder you’re going to try to overthrow the entire Earth’s government system to get humanity annexed into Cybertron’s bullshit in a few years’ time.

But perhaps this Starscream thing is actually the work of Megatron! What will Orion do then?

…I mean, do I even have to say it?

ORION, THAT’S GAY.

And I thought we’d already figured out what to do with Megatron back in “Chaos Theory”, where you spent three issues waffling on the subject until the man himself told you to execute him, because even he was sick of your crisis of self. The only reason you didn’t get to act on it was because Megatron disappeared after Vector Sigma blew up and then you fucked off into space without even bothering to check if he was actually dead.

But enough of Orion promising to kill/kiss Megatron, it’s time to see what Brainstorm’s cooked up. It’s not much, but to be fair, he’s only had a few hours to pull something together- our ship’s genius has made a few forcefield generators, using nothing more than some forcefield generators and juice he squeezed out of a bug. Science truly is amazing.

And I bet Trailcutter hates this invention too, for multiple reasons this time!

Cyclonus, who is looking especially purple today, agrees to join the excursion to the Dead Universe, even though it’s pretty clear he really, really doesn’t want to. Hardhead seems in better spirits than our resident space jet, though maybe that’s just bravado macho-man bullshitting on his part.

With our team put together, it’s time to jump out of the spaceship and into a place that quite literally wants them dead. But first Rodimus has a little chat with Ultra Magnus about his feelings. A lot of sharing this issue.

Magnus doesn’t feel fit to be in charge while Rodimus goes off to save the day and maybe die, because he doesn’t have that special something that makes a leader a leader. Charisma? The ability to think on your feet? The ability to see people as people and not numbers? Not having people know you’re actually a much smaller man running around in an Ultra Magnus suit? Whatever it is, Rodimus seems to think that it’s trumped by a mysterious something in his hand, and that Magnus will do just fine.

While Team -Imus goes into the murder reality, Magnus and the Lost Light will be going off to find Jhiaxus, because they need something to do while our protagonist and his absentee father go on their own adventure.

Back on Cybertron, Starscream’s visiting prison, and wants to talk to a very good boy without the guards overhearing. Jazz makes a very vague threat about what will happen if any harm comes to the prisoner, then steps away.

Let’s talk about how to sell toys for a second.

This issue of “Dark Cybertron” had a cover featuring Scoop, the very good boy I’ve mentioned before, because it was paired off with his Generations toy. We know from reading RID that Scoop is the leader of a group called the Construction Patrol, and he likes to help simply for the sake of helping. Sounds like a nice, if generic, character. How is this issue going to introduce people to him? Will he bust out of prison to save the day? Fight evil through heroic sacrifice? Do anything besides talk?

No, he’s going to tell Starscream he’s a herald of death that was foretold in the robot bible.

Yeah, that’ll move some fucking product!

This isn’t even the most batshit thing Scoop’s going to pull in this event, but it is what they decided to put in the issue that “features” him.

Over with Shockwave, we’re treated to some renewed friendships, as Nova Prime and Galvatron reveal that they don’t hate each other after all, but have a mutual respect based in subjugating those weaker than them.

I’m guessing this is a contrast to their previous relationship dynamic in older publications, but I’m not going back to comb through the likes of Heart of Darkness to check, because it really doesn’t matter.

There’s a bit of a snag in Shockwave’s plan to bring Galvatron and Nova Prime back to the Not-Dead Universe, as the space bridge in the Titan burnt up when it got there. Gee, that sucks. I guess all those “Prelude” issues about getting the Titan from Gorlam Prime were sort of a waste of time, weren’t they? Love it when I’m told I wasted my time reading motherfucking Ramondelli issues.

Speaking of Ramondelli, it’s Dead Universe time.

Sigh. Hello, public domain pictures of space on the overlay layer option in Photoshop. It’s nice to see you.

No, it isn’t. I lied.

I’m sorry, public domain pictures of space on the overlay layer option in Photoshop, this isn’t your fault.

So we’re here in the Dead Universe, and it’s looking pretty wild and crazy, though the characters are likely thinking this for a completely different reason than we are as readers. It turns out, the Dead Universe… is dying.

…MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM THAT’S SOME GOOD WRITIN’ RIGHT THERE

Also, Cyclonus has disappeared, not that anyone actually gives a shit, because they’re too busy dealing with the giant space leeches that just showed the hell up. Dang, why’s that happening?

…That only happens as a form of population control, or if the young in question are sickly and have a low chance of survival, not just because the mama rabbit got a bit peckish between lunch and dinner, you stupid fucking robot.

Half of this writing team won awards a couple years after this was published, I want you to remember that.

They fight the cyberwraiths for a bit, things look like they’re getting dicey, then suddenly they fuck off as Cyclonus shows up, probably fresh off the end of a goddamned panic attack because he’s back in the Dead Universe. Then he proceeds to vomit up some black energon. That’s a fun thing, glad you made me look at that.

Rodimus is concerned that one of their team members has got the Hollywood Tuberculosis cough, but Cyclonus doesn’t want his fucking pity. The fellas decide it’s time to get a move on, seeing as they’ve been here a grand total of 20 seconds and been attacked, so they need to get this over with ASAP.

As Team -Imus flies off in a ship I don’t remember them bringing along, someone decides that they’re going to stick their finger in that puddle of vomit.

Nightbeat you fucking idiot, there aren’t any sinks in the Dead Universe! Now your hand’s gonna be all gross for the entirety of this event! He’s not even analyzing it, it’s just on his hand! Why is Nightbeat having zero concept of personal hygiene a running theme in the things I read? Fuck!

You may be wondering what Nightbeat’s doing in the Dead Universe, or even where he’s been for a good chunk of IDW. We’ve seen him in flashbacks from before the war, but not during or after, least not within anything I’ve covered. So, what’s be been up to?

Fuck you, you’ll have to wait for a later issue to be told what Phase One bullshit you’ll have had to read to understand why this dumbass is here.

Back on Cybertron, Prowl is telling Bumblebee that he sucks because he’s not acting. I’m not exactly sure what he expects Bumblebee to do about the Titan who’s just standing there. It’s not like issuing a loitering ticket is going to do anything. Then the Decepticons attack them, among their ranks being the scariest fucking Ravage I’ve ever seen.

Why do you look like that? Rojo’s supposed to have the cutesy style on this team, why the fuck did he turn the kitty cat into one of the terror dogs from Ghostbusters? 

Anyway, that’s the end of the issue. Sure hope you’re invested enough in trying to figure out what the fuck Nightbeat’s deal is to snag Robots in Disguise #23.

[peachesncremate]

Headcanon: Brainstorm hasn't spent much time around other jets and has no idea how much he's communicating with his wings. It's only a week into the Lost Light's journey and despite them not sharing a single conversation, Cyclonus knows -all- Brainstorm's business.

(Oh my GOD we are on a wavelength this is so funny Brainstorm please keep it to YOURSELF) It wasn’t that Cyclonus necessarily disliked Brainstorm, (at least no more than he disliked anyone else aboard the Lost Light) but Sigma, was he annoying. The purple jet could see him across the room now, showing off Primus-knows-what to a small group of half interested mechs. The scientists wings were beating out a constant string of please notice me and aren’t I the greatest?  It continued like that every time Cyclonus caught sight of him. He didn’t hide anything with his wings.  I’m the greatest, please look at me, I’m better than you, you annoy me, I’m happy, sad, disappointed, satisfied- on and on and on.

Cyclonus wanted to throttle him. It was one thing to desire positive reactions to your work, it was another entirely to constantly beg for it. Utterly shameless. It was why Cyclonus mostly avoided talking to him. Not like he was known for being the best conversation partner anyways despite Tailgate’s many attempts to crack his cold facade. 

It was at the end of the week when Whirl sat down next to Cyclonus, usually a precursor to a fight, but the Helicopter didn’t start anything. Instead broadly gesturing over to where Brainstorm was gushing over Perceptor. His wings were on the edge of obscene with the way he was trying to get the microscope’s attention. Look at me, see how pretty I am, see how talented I am. 

Ugh. Sickening.

“Are you gonna tell him we can see how hopeless he is or am I?”