#ratchet talking medical terms to his patients

[anony-man]

Stress Relief

Word count: 3,210

Relationships: Ratchet/Wheeljack

Rating: M

Summary: When Ratchet has overworked himself yet again, Wheeljack knows just what to do to help his favorite medic relax a little.

Warnings: Lots of seggsual material. The whole thing basically revolves around Ratchet getting fucked, though, so..

**********

Ratchet had decided long ago that ‘stress’ was a very broad term.

In the field, he was pressed for time. He had a duty to save as many wounded as he possibly could while helping comfort those too far gone along their journey to the Allspark. Being stuck in the heat of the battle while mechs lay all around him bleeding out was practically a textbook definition of stressful. It was a hands-down stressful experience, and not one he was keen to experience again.

Working late into the night, accompanied by the steady beep of various machinery as he monitored a recovering patient was also stressful, but in a different way. Despite his experience, Ratchet still found himself nodding off at times, only to wake up at the slightest shift in a patient’s vitals. His spark thudded in his chest as he listened for the smallest change in the sounds from his patient, the mildest of hints that the patient’s progress was about to take a drastic nosedive. It wasn’t the heat of the battlefield, but it was still stressful.

Standing over a desk he’d created out of bent, rusty metal as he struggled to decipher the formula for an energy source that was dwindling before his very optics, however, was probably one of the most stressful situations Ratchet had ever found himself in. Despite his past experience of hundreds of years spent running back and forth, assessing multiple patients as he struggled to keep everyone under control, Ratchet hadn’t ever felt anything as troubling as he felt now.

Not only was short on time and supplies, but despite his best efforts, Ratchet knew he was out of luck. If they didn’t find a way off of the Primus-forsaken planet they’d gotten themselves stranded on, and soon, well… Ratchet didn’t even want to think about it.

He rubbed his optics and stood up straight, a heavy sigh escaping him. The base had long since grown silent, and Ratchet was left alone to work in the dim light. The children had left hours before, their respective guardians escorting them home. Optimus had done his best to keep Ratchet company for as long as he could manage, but the prime’s own exhaustion had been evident from the look in his optics. Ratchet hadn’t hesitated to send him to his quarters, but he had to admit that Optimus’ presence had been comforting—if only slightly.

Ratchet’s joints creaked and groaned as he reached for one of the empty crates nearby and dragged it closer. After gently lowering himself back down, he prepared to lose himself in the layers of equations and symbols he couldn’t even *begin* to comprehend. However, when he tried to reboot the console—when had it even turned off on him?—it simply refused to work. He tapped the digital keyboard again, starting to feel rather impatient.

Nothing.

“Great,” Ratchet huffed, rolling his optics as he threw his servos up in the air with exasperation. “What’ll be next, a Decepticon invasion?”

“Mm… not quite,” a familiar voice replied. Before Ratchet had a chance to respond, warm servos wrapped their way around his bulky waist, pulling him in close. “We’ve talked about this, doc. Didja really think I’d just sit by and watch you work yourself to death?”

“Hello, you,” Ratchet sighed, his irritation overshadowed by audible affection. “How’d you even manage to get inside?”

“Trade secrets,” was Ratchet’s only response. The newcomer’s servos trailed up and down Ratchet’s sides, digits slipping in between tender mesh to tug at the wires beneath. “Why are you still awake? I thought we agreed on putting the late nights to an end.”

There was a sense of authority to the words that sent a shudder through Ratchet’s frame. Despite his own exhaustion, he could feel the familiar tingling between his thighs, and he didn’t discourage it. He leaned into the tender servos, pressing his aft against the mech’s codpiece. To his surprise, he could sense a warmth just as intense as his own beneath the thick metal.

“Wheeljack,” Ratchet chided, his words breathy as the wrecker’s servos dipped between his thighs. “I’m busy. If you’re here for another session, I suggest you make it quick.”

“You better watch your tone, doc,” Wheeljack grunted, his helm inches away from Ratchet’s audials. “Or do I need to remind you who’s in charge here?”

Ratchet’s breath hitched in his throat at the words, a burst of warmth spreading beneath his panels. He’d never admit it—not to the rest of the team, at least—, but the evenings he had spent with Wheeljack for the past few months had become a form of stress-relief for him. Without another word, Ratchet allowed the wrecker to guide him into a standing position against the makeshift desk, physically turning him around until he was face-to-face with his partner.

“That’s better,” Wheeljack hummed with satisfaction.

Ratchet watched through half-open optics as Wheeljack lowered himself to the floor, crouched between the doctor’s knees. Just the sight of Wheeljack kneeling on the floor, waiting for access to the slick warmth beneath Ratchet’s panels had him shivering with anticipation. He shuddered as Wheeljack traced a careful digit in a slow, lazy circle over the sealed interface array.

“Open up for me,” Wheeljack said, his optics reflecting the impatience he didn’t try to hide.

Seconds later, the wrecker’s demand was punctuated by the sound of Ratchet’s valve cover clicking open. Wheeljack made a small noise of appreciation as he studied the soft, plush opening, his gaze taking in the way Ratchet’s tender lips clenched and pulsed. Despite their given roles during intercourse, Wheeljack had always loved the chances he got to fully worship Ratchet’s valve for the beauty that it was. Tucked between thick, shapely thighs, the plump lips were truly a sight to behold. With one servo squeezing Ratchet’s thigh, Wheeljack traced the edge of his other servo across the outside, eliciting a shuddering groan from Ratchet.

“Shhh,” Wheeljack hushed the medic as he leaned in, his faceplates inches away from the warm, dripping entrance. “Don’t wanna wake the others, do you?”

A quiet, shaky sigh was all Wheeljack recieved in response. Satisfied with his partner’s compliance, Wheeljack pulled his servo away, only to slip one of his digits between the valve lips, drawing in and out with a soft squelching sound. He raised his other servo to brace himself against Ratchet’s hip before dipping a second digit in, carefully rubbing against the tender node on the outside of Ratchet’s valve.

“You must’ve been expecting me, hmm? Were you waiting for me to come and give your pretty little valve the attention it deserves?” Wheeljack whispered, his soaked digits circling the rim of Ratchet’s valve before gently slipping back inside. “Such a beautiful mech you are. Nice and hefty… Just the way I like it.”

Ratchet’s hips jerked forward into the slow, methodical rhythm, encouraged by the sultry words Wheeljack spoke. He gave a small, keening groan as Wheeljack moved faster, his desperation overshadowing the cool exterior he typically wore.

“You like that, doc?” Wheeljack asked, his own frame growing hot from the intimate display. “You want more?”

“Please,” Ratchet shuddered, one servo gripping the edge of the desk while the other held tight to Wheeljack’s shoulder plating.

Wheeljack pulled his digits free, a soft sound of satisfaction escaping him at the way lubricant dripped from the tips. After taking a few moments to relish in the way Ratchet’s frame had begun to shake, sticky heat radiating from between his thighs, Wheeljack leaned in again. This time, instead of using his servos to pleasure his partner, Wheeljack began stroking over the rim of Ratchet’s valve with his tongue. He sucked on the tip of Ratchet’s node, relishing in the tremors it sent through the medic’s frame, before moving down further. Ratchet kept his servos gripped on the edge of his desk, his frame heaving in each breath as his spark thudded in his chest.

“Are you ready, Ratchet?” Wheeljack asked, momentarily pulling away from Ratchet’s quivering valve long enough to stare up at the medic, who stared back down at him with a look of utter desire.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” Ratchet huffed, his servos already reaching down to pull Wheeljack up to his pedes. “Please, don’t make me wait.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Wheeljack grinned, slowly rising up to his pedes, “I suppose we can keep moving, sweetspark.”

Ratchet had never been one for pet names, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure it sent through his frame. He drew Wheeljack close, leaving desperate, sloppy kisses up and down the inventor’s neck as Wheeljack prepared himself. Before long, the sound of the wrecker’s spike pressurizing filled the air. Wheeljack’s servo dipped down to fondle Ratchet’s aft, grinding against the medic’s front as he prepared to slip inside of Ratchet’s valve. With every stroke of Wheeljack’s servo, every moment the tip of his spike brushed against his valve opening, the aroused medic gave another soft sound of approval.

Finally, Wheeljack grew tired of teasing. He slipped the head of his spike into Ratchet’s valve, careful not to move too quickly. Ever so gently, Wheeljack pushed deeper until he had completely filled his medic. Then, with slow, grinding motions, Wheeljack started up a steady pace in and out of the soaked valve.

“Frag,” Ratchet groaned, his servos digging into Wheeljack’s plating. “Ohh, frag, Wheeljack—nnghh, please—“

“Talk to me, Ratchet,” Wheeljack panted, the friction increasing as he sped up the pace. “Tell me what you need, sweetspark.”

Ratchet’s servos were caught in a vice grip against Wheeljack’s shoulders, his frame moving back and forth in time with Wheeljack’s thrusting. He threw his helm back with a loud groan as Wheeljack drove deeper, the ridges of his spike catching on tender nodes deep in Ratchet’s valve.

“Oh, yes, please—agh, harder, please!” Ratchet gasped, his voice rising with desperation as he grew closer and closer to his overload. The desk beneath him began to rock, pounding against the table with loud, thundering sounds that echoed through the base. “Nnghh, please—Ahh!”

“Good, that’s good,” Wheeljack panted, his servos braced against Ratchet’s hips as he plowed into the medic’s frame. A low, rhythmic sound of clanging metal against metal was punctuated by the noise of the desk against the wall as the two chased their climax.

A sound between a choked moan and a gargling whine slowly slips out of the sputtering medic’s lips, his frame hot to the touch and his cooling fans on full blast. As Wheeljack’s words sent another jolt of pleasure through his frame, Ratchet couldn’t not beg for more.

“Please,” he moaned, the sound loud and pitiful as he shuddered and jerked against the other mech’s steady pace “Wheeljack, please, more—I need more, I—ohhh, harder, please!”

The shift in position was startling, but Ratchet suddenly found himself being laid down against the cold base floor, Wheeljack’s own shuddering form towering over him. He barely had a chance to speak before the wrecker’s spike was slipping back into the warmth between Ratchet’s thighs.

Primus, he could feel himself teetering over the edge. He’d never been a quiet partner during intimate moments, but this experience was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Sure, their sexual encounters have never been very… well, vanilla, but Ratchet could hardly help the obscene sounds that escaped him, nor could he stop the loud, heavy breaths he sucked in through his vents as he trembled under Wheeljack’s touch.

“Keep talking, doc,” Wheeljack said, his own words punctuated by heavy pants and soft, nearly inaudible grunts. Unlike before, the wrecker didn’t hesitate to begin up a fast, steady pace, causing Ratchet’s frame to rock back and forth into the violent thrusts. “Say my name, yeah? Go on, keep—nghh, keep going.”

Ratchet, not one to disobey the wrecker during their more intimate moments, simply braced himself against the desk as Wheeljack pounded into him, his mouth open wide with sounds of pleasure and approval. “Ungh—ahhh, yes, Wheeljack, yes—frag, harder, harder! Harder, yes—!”

“Go ahead, Ratchet,” Wheeljack groaned, slowing down long enough to lean over Ratchet’s prone form and whisper into his audials. “Overload for me.���

Immediately, Ratchet’s entire frame was suddenly alight with a burst of pleasure stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. As a loud, staticky cry escaped him, Ratchet arched up into Wheeljack’s hold, his hips bucking against the wrecker’s frame with enough force for his paint-job to rub off onto Wheeljack. Waves of heat spread like fire from between his thighs into the rest of his frame, tearing a second loud, desperate moan from the medic as Wheeljack kept a steady pace, drawing the overload out for as long as possible. Only when Ratchet’s systems began to shut down, overwhelmed by the sudden skyrocket in temperature, did Wheeljack stop.

The blackout only lasted for a few seconds, but when Ratchet’s optics online again, he found himself staring up at Wheeljack’s smug expression, his frame quivering and his breath coming in soft, shuddering whimpers. A coating of slick, warm liquid dripping between his inner thighs told him everything he needed to know before he even had a chance to register what had occurred. So caught up in the post-coital haze, Ratchet almost didn't notice when Wheeljack finally slipped free of his entrance.

“Feeling better?” Wheeljack asked, one servo stroking up and down Ratchet’s thigh while he stared down at the medic. “Must’ve been a good bit of stress to unpack. Never heard you scream so loud, doc.”

Ratchet turned away, his faceplates heating up with embarrassment. “Let me up,” he huffed, ignoring Wheeljack’s extended servo as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Wheeljack ignored Ratchet’s stubbornness, instead helping the medic up to his pedes. As soon as Ratchet had stood up and settled himself back down onto the storage crate, Ratchet awkwardly cleared his throat. He fiddled with his servos as Wheeljack stood by, not speaking a word as he watched the medic with careful optics.

“Well,” Ratchet finally said, deciding to be the one who broke the silence. “That was… that was nice, Wheeljack. I really needed a break.”

“Uh-huh,” Wheeljack replied. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the medic, his expression unreadable.

Ratchet glanced between Wheeljack and the console, which was still turned off. The familiar tension he felt when dealing with the energon problem—the one problem he knew he’d never be able to solve—began to rise up in his chest. It took all of his effort not to give in right then and there, and let Wheeljack take over for him… again.

“There’s still a lot of work for me to finish,” he added, one servo rubbing the back of his helm as he waited for Wheeljack’s next move. “You can stay if you’d like, but—“

“I didn’t say we were finished, did I?” Wheeljack said, his arms remaining crossed over his chest as he stared down at Ratchet.

At first, Ratchet was a little surprised. He had agreed to trying out a new dynamic in their relationship, of course, but he hadn’t expected Wheeljack to take new roles so seriously. Still, he couldn’t deny the sense of comfort and satisfaction he felt from the wrecker taking the lead—even if it meant he couldn’t finish the work he so desperately needed to complete. However, the feelings of security he felt didn’t automatically mean he was going down without a fight.

“I can’t just quit working now that you’ve showed up,” Ratchet said, his voice lacking the usual tension he typically carried. “Now step aside and let me finish, Wheeljack.”

There was a brief silence between the two as both mechs waited for the other to give in. Much to Ratchet’s frustration, however, Wheeljack was refusing to budge. He opened his mouth, a snarky retort on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t get a single word out before Wheeljack stopped him.

“Stand up,” the wrecker said, motioning with his servo.

“Wh—what?” Ratchet scoffed. He crossed his arms then, glaring up at the wrecker with a look of defiance. “Wheeljack, I told you—“

“Don’t make me ask twice, doc,” Wheeljack cut in, his frown deepening. “I already told you we aren’t done here. Stand up for me.”

Ratchet made a sound of protest, but eventually complied. Once he did, however, he was a little surprised—just a little—when Wheeljack took a seat on the cargo container instead. The wrecker reclined back against the console, using it as a backrest as he made himself comfortable. At the look of confusion on Ratchet’s expression, Wheeljack merely chuckled, then beckoned for Ratchet to join him.

“You can’t be serious,” Ratchet said, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. They were alone, as far as he knew, but he still checked to make sure they weren’t being watched by any fellow Autobots.

“Plenty of room,” Wheeljack said, gently patting the space between his legs. “Or are you too good for snuggling your favorite wrecker now, too?”

Ratchet took a step forward, hesitant. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable—he’d done much more drastic things with the wrecker before, after all, but this… it was new, undiscovered territory for him. It felt good, of course, but it also felt wrong. As if sensing his inner dilemma, Wheeljack leaned forward and gently grabbed ahold of Ratchet’s servo, drawing him in close. He didn’t stop until Ratchet was comfortably situated in his lap, and even then, Wheeljack still adjusted and readjusted their position. Once he was satisfied, Wheeljack glanced down at Ratchet, the medic’s helm comfortably positioned to rest against the wrecker’s chest.

“Comfortable?” He asked, on servo stroking up and down Ratchet’s side, the other interlacing with Ratchet’s free servo.

There was silence at first, and Wheeljack was more than willing to remain convinced that Ratchet had finally given into his contentment and allowed himself this one chance to relax and be comforted. As was to be expected when dealing with the stubborn medic, however, Wheeljack was wrong.

“…you didn’t have to come, you know,” Ratchet whispered, speaking just loudly enough for Wheeljack to hear.

“‘Course I did,” Wheeljack replied. He shifted against the cargo box until their frames were pressed together, their arms intertwined and legs comfortably stretched out over the edge. “I’d never leave you here to sulk all by yourself.”

“I do not sulk,” Ratchet grumbled. After a few seconds of silence, he added, “I… I can take care of myself, you know. I am a medic, after all. It’s my job—“

“Your job is to care for the rest of the team,” Wheeljack said, gently correcting Ratchet as he stroked the medic’s faceplates with his free servo. “It’s my job to take care of you, doc.”

Ratchet made a soft sound of acknowledgment, but didn’t respond. Satisfied that he’d finally won the discussion, Wheeljack wrapped both arms around the tired medic and held him close. Their private, more intimate moments were often few and far between, but Wheeljack was happy to take every chance he could get with the medic. His medic.

[unsanitarystation]

Ok look. Your heat clinic AU but now with piss. I imagine it as No War AU with Dratchet. Drift never experienced heats, so when his first one comes he's unprepared. He quickly comes to the heat clinic in hope to get help. There he meets Ratchet who starts from instructing Drift about what to expect, calmly describing all the possible symptom, including 'increased waste production, frequent urges to urinate, profuse and uncontrollable voiding'. Drift is so shocked and embarrassed, ready to run away right now. He's also not happy to know that this symptoms are very common and it's very likely that he'll get them (he is already feeling his waste tank filling despite that he visited the bathroom before leaving his home). And he's definitely not happy to know that in this clinic they 'cure' heats naturally, just fulfilling bots' needs and taking care of them while they are needy and vulnerable. However with every passing klik Drift feels more and more driven to Ratchet. Ratchet seems professional and understanding and caring. Adn Drift in not ready to deal alone with the heat that is consuming him more and more. He's already wet, his valve and spike spasm behind his panels. Drift signs the consent and the treatment starts. Ratchet gives him a medical urinal, explaining that Drift may need it soon. Drift is flustered and blushing, he pushes it away and says that he doesn't need to go. Ratchet gives him a disapproving look and says that it's unhealthy to hold waste, there is nothing to be ashamed of, 8/10 mechs experience it even if it's not talked a lot about due to some dumb social norms. They start with a surface massage of valve and node to prepare Drift for taking fingers and then spike. But even the lightest touches make Drift's abdomen spasm and his calipers flutter, and his poor waste tank is so full, and for the first time he experiences a genuine desire to wet this careful fingers with his pee to mark them and show Ratchet how good it feels. The thoughts are wild, Drift tries to shake them off, but the pressure on his pussy lips and clit make him whimper and his hands curl into fists and his tank ache with need. A klik away from overload a warning about the other release being inevitable flashes on his HUD. Drift cries out and blindly grabs the urinal and shoves it between his legs, pushing Ratchet's hand away. Losing pressure on his node ruins his orgasm but the pressure of his stream filling the urinal makes his insides twitch once, twice, and he overloads, still pushing the urinal between his legs until it overflows with warm waste. Ratchet tells him that he did just fine and that the urinal is'nt really necessary. It's used for the first time to make patients less embarrassed about the process, but during penetration the patient is expected to piss on the doctor to satisfy the urge to mark a partner and also to avoid ruined orgasms, to make the treatment more effective.

OooOh yes... Yesss. Drift has his first heat a little later in life... Perhaps he's come into some money lately and frequent fueling and a semblance of safety kicked his systems into gear. He has no idea what to do, though. But heat relief hospitals are free, thankfully. A public service, if you will... Ratchet treats him clinically, explaining everything in snappy medical terms, but he does make sure Drift is very, very comfortable.

Aww, I'm thinking about Drift rolling his hips as Ratchet pushes his fingers inside of him for the first time, wastetank already filling back up fast. He knows he's going to piss himself again, and this time the urinal is too far away. But Ratchet is massaging his lower abdomen with his free hand, pressing up against every delicious node and cooing at him so sweetly, telling him to relax, to let go... Slowly, Drift starts to leak all over Ratchet's fingers, calipers quivering as he struggles to clench off the stream. It comes out of him in little spurts, waste fluid squirting out of him with each firm thrust of Ratchet's fingers. This time, when he overloads, his vision whites out for a moment, and he reboots to see his wet valve still drenching the doctor's hand <33

[lord-squiggletits]

do u have any fun pharma headcanons :3c ?

He has a tic of fidgeting with his hands, drumming his fingers on his desk, etc whenever he's nervous.

Pharma can't cook for shit and he has no interest in learning how. He either drinks his energon plain or gets the Cybertronian equivalent of instant microwave food/takeout.

His natural speaking accent is from an area that's considered "low class," but since he's a doctor he often code-switches into whatever's considered a "professional" accent and only switches to his natural vernacular in private with friends (Ratchet) or when he's intoxicated.

Speaking of intoxication, I headcanon that Pharma sometimes abuses drugs to deal with the stress of his job/life in general (usually in a Delphi/post-Delphi context), with his most common drugs of choice being smoking, followed by drinking, followed by stimulants for those long, long shifts at work where he has to be alert at all times. Whether his drug abuse becomes a significant problem depends on what particular flavor I want for an AU/random scenario. (But from what I hear drug abuse isn't uncommon among medical personnel in general, so maybe Pharma's habits are just typical of his profession.) He used to do Cybertronian weed too, but Tarn+Delphi ruined weed for him and whenever Pharma smokes again he just gets bad paranoia/anxiety episodes.

If I were to give humanformers Pharma an Earth nationality, I would make him Irish.

As much as Pharma desperately needs therapy, Pharma would be absolute shit at it because he's the kind of patient that would lie about his problems and refuse to open up because of some combination of trauma and pride.

(Speaking in human terms) His favorite genre of music is pop, including some variants like pop punk. He would also listen to "old" music like 40's-60's style crooner music. He would also listen to jazz, swing, and really any music style that's high energy and easy to dance to. My summary of his music taste is usually "He listens to top 100 radio hits and everything in that genre." Sophisticated Pharma tends to be a common headcanon but he just strikes me as a more down-to-earth person with pretty common/popular tastes. He just likes music he can dance to, and he's a pretty enthusiastic dancer. Not professional coordinated music video level, but he can go out in the middle of a crowd and vibe in a pretty cool/coordinated/blissed out way.

In sexual scenarios, Pharma is either a dom switch or a power bottom. Whatever specific label you want to call him, he definitely prefers to be more active and even dominant in romantic/sexual encounters. Also, his dirty talk is kind of cheesy/bad but he makes up for it with the sheer enthusiasm and genuine effort he puts into sex lol.

[polygonal-trees]

Cyberverse Appreciation Week day four: romance AND divorce because this is megop babyy

*blows dust off WIP*

I was going to do another drawing but I pulled something in my shoulder 😅 I’m really pleased with how this fic turned out tho!

Summary: Megatron survived the attack by the Other One, but it left him in deep stasis for a long time. Now he’s finally woken up, Optimus finally gets to talk with him... but it doesn’t quite go as expected.

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Also on AO3

The news comes early one morning, while Optimus is finishing the dregs of his breakfast energon cube. The sender is Ratchet. The message is short and to the point, but enough to bring Optimus' day to a short, sharp halt.

'He's awake.'

Optimus doesn't have to ask who 'he' is. Doesn't have to ask anything, in fact. He has been preparing for this day for a while now, even if the news has him feeling helpless and lost.

But with the steely resolve that brought him through the War, Optimus clears his schedule and sets out for New Iacon Hospital.

Optimus stops at the door, squeezing his optics shut for a moment as he braces himself. Beyond the thin sheets of metal, Optimus can hear the gruff rumble of Megatron's voice interspersed with Ratchet's, achingly familiar even if he can't make out the words. It's been so long. The moment he's both longed for and dreaded is finally upon him, and now Optimus doesn't know what to feel. This could change everything – destroy everything. But he knows he cannot turn away.

With a steadying vent, Optimus enters the room.

It looks like any other hospital hab – a clean white room with a few accents of calming blue. The window in the far wall is open, inviting in a gentle breeze along with the morning sunlight. There's a small holoscreen – switched off – mounted on the left side wall, and opposite, of course, is a medberth, flanked by the machines required to tend a long-term intensive care patient. A chair here, an empty vase there – all part of a perfectly normal hospital scene… except for the patient himself.

Optimus' spark aches as he steps further into the room. He truly doesn't know what to feel. Relieved? Worried? Angry? Overjoyed? Megatron is many things to many people, and to Optimus… well. They never quite figured it out.

Ratchet pauses in checking one of the monitors when he hears the door swish closed, and straightens up. The look he gives Optimus is... odd. If he didn't know any better, Optimus would describe it as an almost malicious glee. It's enough to give Optimus a clue that something isn't quite right.

"Hi Optimus," Ratchet says cheerfully, before turning back to his patient. "Look, Megatron. Look who it is!"

Somewhat perturbed by this, Optimus finally convinces himself to approach the berth, if just to see what's going on. He cannot imagine Megatron putting up with being spoken to in such a condescending manner, and he half wonders if Ratchet only called him here to deal with the inevitable furious shouting fit.

But Megatron isn't looking furious at all.

He's sitting up, if supported by a few pillows, optic bright and plating shiny. He's almost as good as new, apart from the patch where his broken optic was and the scar-metal over his chest. And when he actually listens to Ratchet, eagerly turning his helm to see his visitor, the biggest smile Optimus has ever seen stretches across his faceplates.

"Optimus!" Megatron beams.

Oh.

Oh no.

Optimus gets it, now.

He fixes the amused Ratchet with a long, hard, unimpressed stare. It's not uncommon for mechs coming out of medical stasis to feel a little… off. Stasis isn't the same as recharge after all, and certain parts of the processor don't always boot up quite right. It's not dangerous, and nothing a proper defrag won't fix, but until then…

"I missed you," says Megatron, with a spark-deep sincerity that has Ratchet barely suppressing a laugh.

…Until then, Optimus will be treated to a very different Megatron.

Ratchet catches his eye again and winks. Optimus doesn't dignify him with a response, but can admit to himself that his anxiety is slowly unwinding. He'll still have to deal with the inevitable fallout, but not yet. Not now.

Optimus pulls the chair over and settles down. "I missed you too," he says softly.

"I'll let you catch up in private," Ratchet interjects, before handing Megatron a bright blue energon-pop usually reserved for newsparks at their first check-up. Ratchet is professional to the core, but if there's one patient he wouldn't have any reservations making fun of...

Megatron stares at the energon-pop as if he's never seen one before, before slowly putting it in his mouth. His optic widens, and he makes a pleased little sound that finally puts a smile on Optimus' face.

The door opens and closes again, leaving them alone. Optimus gets comfortable, knowing he’ll be there for a while.

"How do you feel?" he begins.

"Good!" Megatron says. “Where are we?”

“In the hospital,” says Optimus. “You uh… got hurt. Remember?”

Megatron’s face falls. “Oh yeah.” A faint shudder passes through his frame. “Where did you go?”

"Pardon?" says Optimus, slightly nonplussed.

"I missed you," Megatron repeats plaintively, gnawing on the energon-pop. "I remember…" he frowns, expression turning pained. "I remember you were there… when he hurt me. And then you… weren't."

"Oh, I see." It makes sense – it's been more than a stellar cycle since the Other One's attack, but to Megatron's stasis-addled processor it's only been a few moments. Waking up alone when his last memory was of being held in Optimus' arms must have been jarring.

"I'm sorry," says Optimus, "but I'm here now."

"Mm." Megatron crunches a bit off the energon-pop and swallows it. "Stay."

Hesitantly, Optimus slides his servo into Megatron's. "Alright," he agrees. "I'll stay for as long as I can."

Megatron's fingers close around his own, surprisingly strong for a mech just out of stasis but nothing compared to the gladiator's former power. He snuggles back into his pillows, smiling lopsidedly around the stick poking out of his mouth. "Optimus?"

"Yes?"

"I missed you."

"Uh, I know," Optimus says, not sure how to respond. This isn't real, he reminds himself – Megatron is confused, his processor isn't working properly, he doesn't know what he's saying. It would be irresponsible, wrong to take any real meaning from this.

"Before, Optimus," Megaton stresses, squeezing Optimus' hand a little tighter for a moment. "I missed you before… With the War… With the Wall…"

Optimus squeezes back. “The War is over, and the wall is gone – we can see each other whenever we want.”

Megatron blinks – or rather winks – in confusion. “The Wall’s gone?” he asks.

“Uh… well, yes…” Optimus scrambles to come up with a reason that won’t bring about a fit of rage. Or maybe ‘tantrum’ would be more appropriate. “You see–”

“Good!” Megatron grins again. “We can meet whenever we want!”

Optimus smiles wryly. “…Yes. We can.”

“I didn’t want the Wall,” Megatron mumbles. He stares up at Optimus, optic wide and beseeching, looking more like he's trying to hide in the pillows than relax into them, and drops his voice to a whisper.

"But I had to keep… him out."

Optimus' spark gives a funny little squeeze.

"It's alright," he murmurs soothingly, leaning in a little closer. "The Other One is gone. Forever."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise, Megatron."

"Good." Megatron relaxes with a shudder, and resumes crunching on his energon-pop. Optimus has barely begun to gather his thoughts before–

"Did you miss me?"

Optimus flinches. It isn't real, he reminds himself. It isn't real. It isn't–

"Yes," he confesses.

Every moment they were apart.

“I’m sorry.” Megatron's voice is thick with static. "Optimus, I’m sorry–!"

Oh no no no no nonono–

"Hey, hey, it's ok, it's alright." Optimus quickly leans forward, cupping Megatron's cheek with his free hand. It feels so easy, so natural, as if they were never apart at all – but Optimus doesn't spare time to think about that, because he cannot see Megatron cry. He can't. He doesn't know what he'd do.

“I forgive you,” Optimus says, and dammit but he means it. “I forgive you for everything.”

Megatron’s engine gives a little hiccup. “Even though I hurt you?”

“We hurt each other,” Optimus says, running his thumb soothingly over Megatron’s cheek. “Do you forgive me?”

“Yes,” Megtron says at once. The energon-pop is still poking out of his mouth.

“Then I forgive you.”

Megatron takes a shaky breath and seems to calm down. Optimus leans back, barely suppressing a sigh of relief. Thank Primus. Optimus can barely handle his own emotions…

Megatron’s brow creases, and he squeezes Optimus’ servo as if checking he’s still there.

“What do you want to do?” Optimus asks. “When you’re better, I mean.”

“Hmm…” Megatron’s gaze shifts to the far wall as he frowns in concentration. “Drive,” he says eventually, looking back at Optimus with that same painfully earnest expression. “With you.”

Optimus begins idly tracing the seams on Megatron’s hand. “Where to?”

“Anywhere.” Megatron crunches off the last of the energon-pop and lets the stick drop from his mouth. Optimus picks it up and tosses it in the waste bin in the corner. Megatron looks vaguely disappointed.

“It’s nice just to drive sometimes, isn’t it?” The open sky, warm road beneath his wheels… Optimus knows the feeling well. “I’d be happy to go with you.”

Although the first place Megatron will go when he’s out of hospital is on trial. It’s completely necessary that justice be served, but Optimus still feels a pang in his spark. He wishes desperately for a moment that Megatron won’t recover – that he’ll stay like this forever, open and earnest and… innocent. They could be happy…

But it’s a terribly selfish wish to make. And besides, it’s not what Optimus truly desires.

“Tell it to me,” says Megatron, oblivious to Optimus’ pain. “Tell me where we’ll go.”

It’s been a long time since he’s traveled without a destination. Optimus casts his gaze to the window and thinks.

“I hear the Manganese Mountains are splendid at this time of year,” he begins. “The terrain is rough, but we could manage it together.”

Megatron relaxes fully into the pillows and blinks sleepily. Optimus hesitates. That same selfish part of him doesn’t want Megatron to sleep, because if he does then this quiet, peaceful, beautiful moment will be over. The next time Megatron wakes, they’ll be back to fighting each other.

But dreams cannot last forever.

“We’ll drive up to the peak, where we’ll see Cybertron spread out all around us – Croaton, New Iacon, the Lithium Flats, the Argon Sea…”

“I want to see the sea,” Megatron mumbles, optic half-shuttered.

“We’ll climb down the mountain, and go to the beach,” Optimus agrees. “Your treads will do well on the sand, but I expect my wheels will have some trouble.”

“I’ll carry you,” Megatron breathes

“We’ll continue along the coast,” Optimus says around the lump in his throat. “Maybe… maybe explore some caves. There’s supposed to be treasure hidden in one of them.”

Megatron mumbles something else, but the words are obscured by approaching sleep.

“And after that… we can go back inland, to Carburisia to see the Cobalt Springs.” Optimus is just making stuff up at this point. There’s no real way to drive straight to Carburisia from the Argon Sea.

“And once we’re done there… we can go back to the cities. Maybe stop off at some new settlements along the way… there are some prosperous new energon farms…” Optimus’ voice drops to a whisper. “And when we’re back in New Iacon… I’ll take you home with me.”

Megatron doesn’t hear him. Megatron is sound asleep. He looks so peaceful, mouth slightly open, sunlight glowing softly on his face.

Slowly, tenderly, Optimus sets his hand down. He stares for a moment more, unable to pull himself away, before finally getting to his feet and leaving the hospital room. He passes Ratchet, but doesn’t say anything. Optimus needs to think. He needs… a long, long time to think.

-

The news comes late one afternoon, while Optimus is driving home after a long day of work. The sender is Ratchet. The message is short and to the point, but enough to bring Optimus' night to a short, sharp halt.

'He's awake.'

Optimus doesn't have to ask who 'he' is. Doesn't have to ask anything, in fact. He has been doing his best to prepare for this day, even if the news has him feeling more helpless and lost than he ever has before in his life.

But with the steely resolve that brought him through the War, Optimus turns around and sets off for New Iacon Hospital.

-

There are guards outside the door this time. An Autobot and a Decepticon. They both nod respectfully when Optimus arrives, neither surprised to see him. Part of Optimus wants to stop and chat for a minute, ask inane questions and delay the inevitable, but that wouldn’t be fair to them. That wouldn’t be fair to Megatron.

He’s alone when Optimus arrives. Out of bed, too, standing by the window and gazing out at New Iacon’s silhouette against the orange twilight. With his back to the door, his expression is unreadable.

Optimus stops dead just a few steps into the room. He takes a breath, trying to remember what he decided he was going to say, but Megatron gets there first.

“You actually did it,” he murmurs, not turning around.

“Pardon?” says Optimus, immediately confused.

Megatron laughs softly under his breath. “Peace,” he explains, nodding to the window. “A united Cybertron.”

“I didn’t do it alone.” Optimus manages another step forward. “Megatron–”

Megatron turns at last, outlined against the setting sun. He looks confident and calm, despite the stasis cuffs around his wrists.

“Why are you here, Prime?” he asks mockingly. “To rub it in? To gloat?”

“I would never,” Optimus says coldly, stung by the reminder of how little Megatron understands him now. “I want what I have always wanted – peace and understanding. And I will do everything in my power to maintain it.” He clenches his jaw and looks Megatron dead in the eye. He’s practiced these words, knows exactly what he has to say.

“This is your only chance, Megatron. If you threaten what we have built, I will kill you.”

To his surprise, Megatron looks away first.

“I know,” he says simply. “I–” a subtle shift, a crack in the veneer, “I do not want to fight you anymore.”

Optimus feels his shoulders slump. He walks across the room to stand beside his former friend, taking his own moment to gaze at his beloved city. It really is beautiful, metal and glass gleaming, light filling windows as night creeps in.

“Good,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to fight you either.”

They stand in silence for what feels like an age, until the first stars have appeared in the darkened sky.

“Optimus,” says Megatron, a near imperceptible waver in his voice, “what do I do? What… happens now?”

“You will be put on trial,” Optimus recites, because at least he knows the words. “You will be judged by both Autobots and Decepticons. You will have an attorney. Your fate will be decided by Cybertron.” He casts a sideways glance at Megatron. “You will not be executed.” Optimus had made sure of that.

“After all this time,” Megatron says with a sigh, “death is the least of my concerns.”

Optimus faces him again. Megatron looks… tired. Not angry, not vengeful, not scheming, just… tired. Optimus knows the feeling well.

“I missed you,” he says softly, words slipping free without thought.

Megatron stiffens. He looks down, almost bashful.

Optimus reaches out. Slowly. Leaving plenty of time for Megatron to move away.

He doesn’t.

Optimus squeezes his shoulder. “Whatever happens,” he breathes, words deafening in the silence, “I will be there.”

Because through everything, despite everything, that is what they have been to each other – a universal constant, for better and for worse, for now and forever.

Megatron’s smile is crooked, but his gaze is soft when he meets Optimus’ eye. “I know.”

[kudosmyhero]

Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (Phase 02) #4: Life After the Big Bang

Read Date: September 27, 2022 Cover Date: April 2012 ● Writer: James Roberts ● Art: Alex Milne ● Colorist: Josh Burcham ● Letterer: Shawn Lee ● Editor: John Barber ●

Synopsis: At the Autobot medical facility of Delphi on the planet Messatine, First Aid has begun to write a journal chronicling what he believes will be the last days of the outpost. After granting asylum to two Militant Monoform Movement-aligned Genericons with a branched spark on the run from the Decepticon Justice Division, Delphi has been beset by a terrible plague…a plague that sees its victims cry themselves to death…

Celebrations, meanwhile, are underway aboard the Lost Light, as Autobots gather in Swerve's newly opened bar to celebrate finding themselves on the map. Ratchet and Swerve talk privately about a strange occurrence the previous night; both former subscribers to Fisitron's "Wreckers: Declassified" datalogs, the pair have just received a new datalog, which should be impossible, given that the author is dead. Although appearing to be only a string of random numbers, Ratchet recognized the data as medical statistics from Delphi, which reveal a bizarre trend: a constantly escalating death rate that has seen precisely half the outpost's patients die every month. Realizing that someone is trying to send him a message and that they are currently close to Messatine, Ratchet gathers up Drift and Pipes for an excursion to the facility, hoping that it is nothing, and—with his own irreplaceable hands growing increasingly worn out—that he will be able to appoint its commanding officer Pharma as new chief medical officer of the Lost Light in his place.

As this goes on, Ultra Magnus brings the news to Rodimus that Tailgate has decided he wants to be a Decepticon. With Magnus growing increasingly frustrated over his inability to enforce wartime laws in peacetime, Rodimus decides to have Rewind give Tailgate a supercompressed history lesson, projecting the key moments of the war directly into his mind. Horrified by what he has seen, Tailgate realizes the foolishness of his choice, and immediately goes to take out his frustrations on Cyclonus, whom he believes gave him a twisted view of history to make him look a fool. Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of punching Cyclonus on the arm, provoking violent retribution from the ancient Cybertronian, who silently smashes him to the ground, kicks him, and leaves.

On Messatine, Ratchet's team arrives at Delphi, discovering its main door marked with a gigantic red X. Pipes—over-impulsive due to the fact that this is his first time on another planet—smashes the door down before Ratchet can explain that the symbol warns of plague, and the little Autobot suddenly finds himself knee-deep in corpses, and in the path of a shambling, infected robot. Drift leaps to the rescue, slicing the plague carrier to pieces, at which point First Aid arrives to explain that, following a mysterious "big bang" five days prior, the facility has been infected by the Red Rust virus which liquefies its victims optics-first. Detailing their suspicion that the plague is the result of a chemical warfare bomb detonated by the D.J.D., First Aid leads them to ward manager Ambulon, who suspects that Delphi's medics have been uniquely resistant to the infection, and further explains that long-term patients are likewise unaffected. First Aid requests Ratchet's input on a new process he has developed, using a healthy spark to jump-start an ailing one, that he hopes to use on one of the outpost's prominent coma patients, but Ratchet is more concerned with consulting with Pharma.

Pharma, unfortunately, was inside the facility's quarantine room when the big bang occurred, and has been automatically sealed inside and unable to communicate through its thick glass. As everyone is regarding his predicament, Pharma burns a message into his own hand, warning the assembled Autobots that, behind them, Pipes has succumbed to the plague. Drift keeps Pipes busy while Ratchet hacks the quarantine room lock and frees Pharma, but the Autobot samurai is splattered with some of Pipe's liquefied innards and he too falls prey to the Red Rust. Ratchet and Ambulon rush to do what they can as Pharma runs off to the holding cells, claiming that he has figured out what has happened, only to be greeted by the two Genericons, freed by parties unknown via a remote override. The two Decepticons corner the Autobots in the emergency ward, preparing to end them, but First Aid pipes up: he has gone ahead with his experimental process using his own spark, and successfully revived a very angry, fighting-mad Fortress Maximus!

(https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Life_After_the_Big_Bang)

Fan Art: First Aid by Kriegswaffle

Accompanying Podcast: ● Married with Comics: Rod Pod - episode 04

[ssrgnt-barnes]

The Bad Batch (+ clones) as Transformers characters....?

My brain wouldn’t let me sleep until I wrote this....enjoy lol

Ok ok, so hear me out...... 

Crosshair is Lockdown, 100%. And here’s why:

Both have ✨EXCEPTIONAL✨ marksmanship skills

Lockdown has never missed a target

“His performance is the best in what he does...”

And uhm...can we talk about how their colour scheme is both dark grey and GREEN???? (I’m still in love with his imperial armour ok, let me have this)

Lockdown’s face turns into a giant long range RIFLE?? HELLO??

He’s got sniper shit galore in his arsenal for hunting (humans)

They’re also both grumpy loners

Don’t like to work with “normal” people

Superiority complex? Major check!! ✅ 

Excelling in both painfully dry humour and cynicism~

Wrecker is most definitely Bulkhead (TFP)...

Did someone call for a giant (and I mean GIANT) hearted goofball?? I thought so!

Both are known for being unusually strong but humorously clumsy

Also both perhaps lacking in some braincells

...but thats why we love them!!

Team “Accidentally Break Stuff and Apologize To Ratchet/Tech Later” squad for the WIN 🙌🏻

Both take the term “bear hug” to a WHOLE new extreme

Bulkhead was part of the Wreckers - do I have to say more? It’s literally in the title.....

Fives is Jazz.......who else lol

Happy-go-lucky? Check! ✅ 

Good natured, loves his brothers? Check! ✅ 

Loves to talk? BIG CHECK! ✅ ✅ ✅ 

These two just give me the same vibes ok! I can’t explain it...

Cool, calm and collected......lol who am I kidding with mr.crackhead over here!

Don’t let their fun demeanour fool you though, they’re a force to be messed with!

I feel like if it was allowed, Fives would have music blasting at all times in his helmet and tell everyone it’s his theme song (and it would 100% be Taylor Swift - tell me I’m wrong lol)

As much as their head may be in the clouds, you wont find anyone more brave or loyal in either of their crew 😉

This one was tough, but I’m going to say Tech is Que, for a couple reasons:

They’ve both got a knack for inventing things

Always tinkering!! Like........with ANYTHING

They both wear some sort of “glasses/goggle” contraption....?

Looking for someone calm who avoids confrontation - these are your guys!

Both of them are quirky and quite talkative when they get on a topic they’re passionate about

even tho sometimes they can be oblivious (or so you think 🤔 , they remember everything!!!)

May not look like much of a fighter based on appearance and attitude, but these guys can hold their own with the best of them on the battlefield

Nerd bros 🙏🏻

Kix as Ratchet??? For obvious reasons....:

Medic squad unite!!

Honestly tho.......yes

10/10 would rather be doing anything else but fighting

BUT still fully equipped and able to throw down if needed

🌸 OHANA UP IN THIS B*TCH 🌸 - ain’t NO ONE getting left behind on their watch!!!

Ratchet never wanted to be a soldier

He's there to save lives, and cause it’s the right thing to do

Everyone’s welfare comes first, will not take recommendations at this time....

Could probably do a lot of damage with medical tools 👀

I want to say Echo is Drift....? Here’s my thoughts:

Ok these two, mad respect!

They both have seen some shit, okay....

They’ve both been on the wrong side of the field (Echo not by choice but never the less!!!)

Mature (Echo is the Team Mom, fight me), calm, level-headed, disciplined and patient

They both share traits of wisdom through their experiences

Their mental tact has done them well

RESPECT 👏 RESPECT 👏  RESPECT 👏 

These two thrive on it!

Loyalty, Honour, Morals - they got it in SPADES people!

Kind, caring, selfless, serious, intelligent, calculating........I could go on (seriously I could.....)

If you have any more you’d like to add, please add them! I’d love to read it!!

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Transformers Siege (WFC) character review!(1/2)

Instead of separating from decepticons and autobots (mainly because of the Predacons and maximals), I’m going to put them in order of which bots I really feel like talking about the most! So, here we go!

*watch for swearing, spoilers, and possible thirst.

/Also, alt modes will NOT be available for this series. They kinda don’t transform too much, and when they do, they hardly let me get a shot, sooo/

Optimus Prime!!; 

This Optimus did a full 180 for not only my opinion, but for his own characterization. This Optimus started out as impulsive, reckless, ignorant of other’s opinions, and quite frankly, was just frustrating to deal with. He was the one who essentially sent the Cybertron into a total fuck storm, and as such, doomed MANY lives, including the one of his love, Elita one. Honestly, Optimus is kinda. Dumb, honestly? He literally sent the live source of Cybertron into the vastness of space, just to keep Megatron from winning the war. Literally, EVERYONE hated him at the start, from Bumblebee to Ratchet. Then, get this- he learned from his mistakes. From Skylynx, to the Optimus Primal, to the soul of Elita, to Optimus and Ratchet and even Megatron- he had so many influences telling him what he did wrong. Towards the end of the series, he became the classic, noble, somewhat self conscious mech we all grew to know and love. Honestly? 9/10. He isn’t perfect. Far from it, but damn Optimus KNOWS this, and that’s so great- I can go all day, you guys (also that one moment where he asked Megatron to forgive him at gunpoint, such a good fucking scene).

Elita one!!; 

I love her. SO much. She’s a QUEEN. She has been ignored, she has been held hostage, she’s been punched and kicked and shot at-my girl has been through hell. And she carries it WELL. Not only is she FINE, but she is bold, smart, and she is STUBBORN in her beliefs. She is also a natural born leader, and I honestly and really appreciate her. Her death was honestly one of the sadder moments, but her soul’s reunion with Optimus was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen. I wish we saw more of her, honestly and desperately (plus she has so many character interactions, there’s SO many ways you can go about her character, it’s incredible). 10/10 my girl is a fighter and she was so ride or die for Optimus (even though I lowkey ship her with those three little cons, ya’ll know the ones) 💕.

Megatron!!(Siege);

Every Megatron has something different about them. For example, this series has two Megatron’s (three because Galvatron), but we’re talking about the Megatron that we start the series with. The sort of ‘G1’ Megatron. This Megatron has a few...issues. Lips aside, this Megatron has a few things I’d change about him. He’s insane, he’s incredibly selfish, and honestly? His character interactions leave something to be desired, in my opinion. However, he does have a blend of good traits. You guys remember Prime Wars Megatron? How this man refused to go down without being ‘fuck you’ to his opponent? This Megatron had those moments, telling Galvatron right the fuck off when he tried to present him with a decision to join him. I love a Megatron that refuses to back down. I also appreciated the regret he clearly has for stuff he did (we all remember what happened to that one power plant), and I appreciate that In a Megatron. Couple that with the pompous villain aesthetic (he had his own pictures hung up on a wall for fucks sakes). However, he isn’t my favorite Megatron (that’s a tie between Prime/Prime Wars Megatron). 7/10. Fun in some cases, but not someone I think I’ll deem my favorite Megatron.

Megatron!!(beast wars);

This Megatron was kinda doomed from the start. From the issue with his VA (not everyone can be David Kaye, but still), to the odd way he simped over the other Megatron, kinda made me dislike seeing him on the screen. Don’t me wrong, he wasn’t AWFUL, and like everyone else on the show he LOOKED good and his VA did...okay. Listen, he had a REALLY good simp voice. But beast wars Megatron actually saw the old Megatron as an old fool. Now he suddenly worships him? It kinda makes this Megatron look pathetic, and I’m not really into it. 4/10. I’m sorry, but I appreciated him more when he wasn’t on screen.

Ironhide!!; 

He did like. Nothing in this series. He only really spoke to tell Optimus what he did. He’s just so cute and I liked hearing him speak. Not the same Ironhide voice, but still I love him terribly 10/10 he is but a baby waby.

Sideswipe!!;

He did like, two things in total in this series, and BOTH made me feel something. He also misses his brother Sunny and it honestly hurt me. Someone hold and support him, 8/10 this precious bundle of red-

Skyfire!!;

This Skyfire actually starts off as not only a decepticon, but a HIGH ranking decepticon, pretty much Megatron’s second hand. He was pretty decepticon motivated, up until Megatron decided the whole genocide of an entire race was too much for her. Honestly his role was a LOT like MTMTE Impactor in this series. A close believer changed to the opposite side, because Megatron’s dumbass got carried away. This Skyfire died, but up until that, he was determined to help the cause. He was literally willing to have a bomb implanted into him just to prove he was with the autobots. He was bold, stubborn, and everyone he interacted with was GREAT. 8/10. Tbh, probably my second favorite Skyfire (hard to compete with Cyberverse).

Impactor!!;

Pretty much the first time I’ve seen him in a show (at least noticeably) and I appreciated his little debut here. Impactor betrayed the decepticon, and in the best way possible. Not because he thought the cause was wrong, but because he got a super hot medic boyfriend, who JUST so happens to be an autobot. Seriously, ratchet fixed his booboos and Impactor just went ‘Listen I’d die for you’. Did anyone but Ratchet trust him? Nope. Did Mirage like him? Nope. Did we give a shit because he was very literally, ride or die for Ratchet? Also nope. Like this dude deadass was willing to go through the ‘we don’t trust decepticons’ bullshit, JUST because Ratchet swept him off his feet. 10/10, Impactor didn’t deserve to die, he deserved to be the hostile gay to suit the hostile lesbian that was Blackarachnia. 💜

Ratchet!!;

This Ratchet was like. The ONLY Ratchet I’ve ever seen, who just fucking hated Optimus. Seriously, this dude just wanted to be alone with his husband. Wanted NO part of Optimus, no part of Bumblebee, NO ONE. He’s sarcastic, bitter, and he WILL give you shit over Impactor or any of his patients. He’s a sour/sweet old man and even though I wish I saw him more, I love him and adore him with my big ol’ heart. 9/10, everyone can eat my ass I’m not over Impactor still.

Wheeljack!!;

Chaotic bastard. Smartass, dumbass, gay ass, and the first character to say ‘ass’, I love him. He doesn’t play much in terms of actual plot stuff (he’s like, a support character tbh) but the few times he was on screen, I loved him. It was like someone gave Danny Devito a PHD. 8/10, just needed to be able to give more one liners like he deserved.

[always-arabis]

The Lost Son: Chapter 11 Teaser

Sam met Rung the following afternoon.

The psychiatrist allowed him to choose the location for their session. He had an office onboard the Lost Light, but as the thought of leaving his quarters was daunting enough, Sam had absolutely no desire to bridge to another ship. Rung had suggested the hydroponics lab instead, and unable to see an alternative, he had agreed. As a result, Sam found himself pacing up and down the neat rows of planters as he waited for the psychiatrist to arrive. The air was humid and warm due to the misting system that kept the plants in peak condition. Each planter included a label that was written in Cybertronian—plant type or growing instructions, he assumed. He couldn’t read the glyphs to know for certain. He made his way down the aisle, his eyes skipping over the various seedlings as he walked. The air smelled like wet soil and green things, as it so often did after a heavy rain back home. It was a pleasant, albeit melancholy scent.

His introspection was interrupted by the sound of doors sliding open. He half-turned, glancing towards the entryway as an unfamiliar mechanoid stepped into the hangar. The stranger was short and thin with a narrow waist. Although he was plated in orange and white panels, he lacked the bulky armor of the other Autobots. He glanced briefly around the room, before his vivid blue optics settled on Sam.

“Hello Sam.” He chirruped in greeting, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”  

Sam resisted the urge to cross his arms by bracing his hands against the stainless steel table in front of him. The metal was cool to the touch.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He lied.

Rung smiled at him as he walked closer. His optics were large and round, giving him a slightly bookish appearance.

“This is a lovely space. Do you come here often?” He asked, glancing around the room as he approached.

Sam shrugged, a barely there twitch of his shoulders.

“Sometimes, I guess.” He replied.

Rung’s smile softened as he stopped on the opposite side of the table. Standing this close to one another, Sam realized that the psychiatrist wasn’t much taller than he was—eight or ten feet, perhaps a little taller.

“Please allow me to properly introduce myself.” He said, “My name is Rung and I am the psy-ops specialist onboard the Lost Light.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. “A psy-ops specialist? I thought you were a psychiatrist.”

Rung’s smile turned wry as he pressed his servos against the table. “I am—the latter predates the former. I have been licensed to practice psychiatry since before the Golden Age.”

Sam tipped his head to the side, suddenly curious despite himself.

“I guess I didn’t realize psychiatry was a thing for mechanoids.” He said, before realizing the absurdity of his statement, “I mean, not in any kind of formal capacity.”

If Rung was offended by his inane comment, it never showed. Instead, the psychiatrist cocked his head, mirroring Sam’s posture.

“We may not have a hippocampus, but we still process our experiences, as humans do.” Rung replied, “And sometimes those experiences don’t write properly when transferred from RAM to quartz storage. When that happens, talk therapy can help—as I know you are aware.”

Sam ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious. Unable to look the psychiatrist in the eye, he reached out and ran a thumb over the dark green, serrated leaves in front of him. The placard affixed to the planter had four distinct glyphs, and he didn’t recognize any of them.

“So, what’s the process here?” He asked, without looking up, “Do we need to go find a chaise lounge or something?”

He could feel the soft wash of Rung’s amusement across the neural-network. It caused him to turn his attention inwards, regarding the spark signature in front of him. It was a soft peachy-orange color, diffuse and wispy in nature. Even through his firewalls, Sam could glean impressions of calm and competency that reminded him of Optimus or Ratchet.

“The process of talk therapy is much the same between our two peoples.” Rung chuckled, “It involves a lot of time and patience and trust. Our understanding of medical privacy differs from yours, of course, but I have written a patient confidentiality sub-routine into my programming.”

Sam was hardly listening. Rung’s signature glowed at him on the neural-network—warm and inviting. Unable to resist, he reached out, brushing mental fingers across the orange glow. He could feel Rung’s answering start of surprise, but the psychiatrist did not protest or pull away. Sam leaned forward, in both body and mind as he smoothed across the glowing node. The sensation was pleasant and somehow… familiar. It took Sam a long moment to realize why, and when he did, his head came up in surprise.

“How old are you?” He blurted.

Rung blinked owlishly at him, seemingly taken by surprise by the non-sequitur.

“How …old?” He asked, confusion coloring his voice.

Sam flushed hotly, his mind catching up with his mouth as he realized the impertinence of the question.

“I’m sorry.” He stammered as heat blazed across his face, “I didn’t mean… I mean, you don’t look—“ He swallowed the words down, taking a deep breath before he tried again, “I just meant that your signature looks… old.”

The confusion on Rung’s face was gone, replaced by a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He tipped his head to the side, as though considering Sam closely.

“I suppose I am old, in relative terms at least.” He chuckled. “I was on-lined approximately seventeen million years ago.”

Sam stared at the psychiatrist, unsure whether he had heard him correctly.

“You’re… seventeen million years old?” He asked, incredulously.

Rung’s optics warmed to a bright turquoise as he inclined his helm.

“I am indeed. I was on-lined near the Pious Pools shortly after the end of the first Golden Age.” He replied.

Sam’s head spun with a mixture of shock and disbelief, but all he could manage was a faint, “…and I thought Ratchet was old.”

Rung surprised him by throwing back his head and laughing. He had a warm, affable laugh that had the corners of Sam’s lips twitching despite himself.

“Ratchet would probably prefer the term experienced.” He replied at last, “Or seasoned, perhaps.”

“I’m sure he would.” Sam said dryly, “But that doesn’t make it true.”

[primergon]

*slides in on knees* hellow there :] i was wondering if i could get an idw and tfp match-up?

I’m rain, 21, 5’’9, infp-t, tan skin tone and have short brown curly hair with a mind of its own and sexuality/gender wise non-binary (afab), pansexual and open to polyamory :D

i’m not sure how to word it but i think i’d describe myself like a kinder egg? hard shell on the outside while soft and gooey on the inside (i dont know what that metaphor is supposed to mean) but i tend to seem quiet and intimidating and but in reality i’m just anxious and introverted up until i open to someone. then the floodgates have opened. i tend to make a lot of jokes since i revel in the sound of someone’s laugh and can have a bit of a wicked sense of humour at times. while i do revel in others company, i’m still an introvert at heart and take comfort in having my own time and space. i truly enjoy people infodumping about the things they like to me and can tend to take on a caretaker like role in a relationship even if i sometimes struggle to verbalise my own feelings. i’m definitely the therapist friend in most of my relationships but it’s more out of concern and looking out for the people i care about. i can have a tendency to be stubborn and headstrong when it comes to the people i care about taking care of themselves while i’m a little lax towards self-care for myself. i can be a bit of a night owl but that’s just a ~thing~.

when it comes to things i like and am passionate about i truly adore literature/poetry even if i have the attention span of a gnat. among other things writing, astrology, videogames, collecting figurines and books and especially i’m currently working on my art career to possibly look towards a career in comic colouring or game design! i’m especially passionate about aiming to create with the intention of letting the person who’s reading feel like at the end of it all, there’s someone who feels just like they do and that no matter how big and intimidating the universe May seem that we’re not alone in it. coming back to something familiar and safe after being out in the unknown. kind of like the feeling of coming home at the end of a vacation, y’know?

i hope this wasn’t too long but thank you so much for your time and effort in advance!! i’m looking forward to see more of your work, love!! ^_^

A/N : Hello Rainy! I'm so sorry this took forever. I can be indecisive at times so I hope you don't mind if I give you multiple pairings!

TFP Ratchet 01 | You and Ratchet have a lot in common. Both of you are caring nurturers who feel passionately about your values and purpose in life. That's one of the main reasons why Ratchet enjoys your company. Although both of you can be headstrong at times, conflict is usually resolved quickly between the two of you. Ratchet may have a difficult time opening up, but when it comes to you, he's willing to set aside his stubbornness and confront his feelings.

02| As an INFJ, Ratchet also appreciates some time to himself, especially after a long day of helping team Prime. Although he enjoys talking to you about your interests and the team's progress, sometimes he would choose to invite you out for a long drive to clear his head. The comfortable silence and your company are enough to give him clarity and comfort in an otherwise hectic life. IDW First Aid & IDW Rodimus 01 | Being in a poly-relationship with Rodimus and First Aid means that you are never short on love and support.

02|First Aid appreciates your creative ideas and encourages you to look after yourself better. He knows more than anyone that even if it's rewarding to act as a caretaker, it's not uncommon for you to forget to take care of yourself in the process. You can help First Aid find creative ways to fix a problem (especially when members of the Lost Light always come in with creative problems ) while he can help you to accomplish your goals, which is why he enjoys reading your poetry and giving you honest insight.

03|Whereas Rodimus boosts your confidence and helps you grow to your full potential by listening and affirming your ideas. He appreciates you because you are open, caring, and seek to create personal connections with your partners. Whether it's on pursuing your art career or in playing video games, Rodimus is always brimming with positive encouragement.

04| While you and First Aid are naturally introverts who need time for themselves, Rodimus often feels anxious when left alone. As an ENFP and the co-captain of the Lost Light, Rodimus may sometimes bring unpredictability to your relationships. While he enjoys the excitement and rush that comes from the unexpected, it may bring stress to First aid who would prefer to avoid chaos and disorder. So when Rodimus had decided to parkour into the medbay and knocked over a vial of liquid that permanently bleached a patient's (whose name is undisclosed for personal reasons ) groin area blue for three weeks, you were exceptionally helpful in resolving the conflict.

05| As a natural peacemaker, you were able to diffuse the tension with your witty humor. Your polycule helps its members grow into the best version of themselves, showing that your personalities truly do complement one another. Thankfully the patient was forgiving enough to let it slide, but the moment you said it really gave new meaning to the human term " blue balls", even Ratchet had let out a laugh with the rest of the medics in the medbay.

IDW Windblade 01| You and Windblade are both empathetic, conscientious, and enjoy communicating emotionally. Windblade is a practical problem-solver, so combined with your creative thinking, obstacles in your relationship were rare as communication is something valuable between the two of you. Besides, you often joke about how you don't want to risk keeping secrets from someone who has telepathic abilities ( even if she insists that she can't read your mind.)

02| Windblade adores listening to you info-dumping. The city-speaker lets you read some literature to her while she rests her head against your lap, preferring to displace her mass so she can be close with you. Windblade may come off as reserved, but when it comes to romantic partners she craves physical intimacy. She was the type to stare lovingly into your eyes and running her hands through your hair before kissing you. Words of affirmation and affectionate nicknames are a one package deal with Windblade. 03| You help Windblade feel seen and understood. Often she is torn between multiple responsibilities. She knows her duty as a city-speaker yet her heart longs for her sisters back on Caminus. Often, she would find herself conflicted and lost. You are the anchor that keeps her grounded. Also, you were there to stand up to Starscream when Chromia is busy snogging Ironhide in some broom closet, even going as far as to challenge him even if Windblade insists that won't be necessary.

04 | Stargazing is something Windblade loves to do with you. Just watching your eyes light up as you passionately talk about astrology is enough to make her fall in love with you all over again. A/N : i hope you enjoy this ! xx

[transformer-imagines]

Happy Together

No one asked for this, but I’m the one in control of the aux cord on this blog and I wanna indulge myself with some cute Dinobot shenanigans

Sludge (G1) x Bot!Reader (sfw)

2672 Words

Everyone and their creator knew that the Ark’s med bay was understaffed. Ratchet was the only one qualified enough to consider a doctor, so mechs tried to help out however they could. Being in the war for the better part of your life, you had picked up what medical knowledge you could in order to aid your comrades; you couldn’t offer much, but you tried to help Ratchet as much as you could. Normally this translated into running errands, taking basic vitals, or doing some patch work.

It was all hands on deck in the med bay today. A particularly nasty skirmish sent so many bots your way that anyone in non-critical condition was asked to sit on the floor. You were scurrying about between them, jotting down names and conditions on your datapad. Even the thick platted Dinobots hadn’t come out of the fight clean. The aspiring team medic, Swoop, was one of the few permitted a seat on an exam table, Wheeljack working to reattach his wing. He was the only Dinobot that you had ever really spoken to, being in and around the med bay so often. He was an excitable and enthusiastic young bot, not something anyone would be able to tell with the way his vocalizer was whining static.

His brothers had tried valiantly to remain with him in the med bay but were shooed out by Wheeljack; there were just too many injured bots for them to be taking up all that space. Only Sludge was allowed to stay, waiting to get patched up with the other mechs on the floor. You were saving him for last, not overly eager to face him; his intimidating size dwarfed most bots and the Dinobots weren’t well known for their friendly dispositions.

Eventually, you could put it off no longer. You tried your best to exude confidence and professionalism in your EM field as you approached. Sludge took notice, straightening up from tracing absentminded patterns on the floor panels to send a curious look your way. Oh Primus, he was sitting down and you barely even reached the top of his chassis.

“So, uh, you’re name’s Sludge, right? I’m Y/N.” He gave a hum in response, nodding his head in agreement that yes, his name was in fact Sludge. “Can you show me where you’re hurt?” He nodded again, moving his right pede out for you to inspect. What you could make out as his alt dino casing was shredded, jagged metal torn and fraying out from the wound.

“Right next to big explosion. Took out him Swoop. Lots of shrapnel, tore off wing and hit me in side.” He turned slightly and gestured to the kibble on his back. “More here.” You gestured for him to turn fully so you could inspect the damage as you jotted down his abridged account on your datapad. He was lucky his plating was so thick, as the force of the explosion probably would’ve hit major energon lines in any other bot. Most of his damage was superficial, deep as it was, though the shrapnel had managed to nick a few minor energon lines.

“There wouldn’t have been an explosion in the first place if it wasn’t for you ditzy dinos!” You finished jotting down the damage before looking sharply in the direction of the whiny outburst. Of course it was Huffer. “If you hadn’t given us away, none of us would be in here!”

“We’re all on the same team, Huffer,” you said with a wave of your servo. “So stop harassing patients or I’ll turn off your vocalizer.” A resounding laugh sounded from behind you.

“You must have a glitch in your memory core, Huffer,” said Hound. “The Dinobots gave us away by saving your tailpipe!”

“I could’ve taken care of it!”

You left the two to their bickering, patting your patient on his knee plating to get his attention. “You’re not too badly damaged. Since I got to you last for diagnostic, I’m gonna go ahead a patch you up first, okay?” You offered Sludge a kind smile, trying to provide better bedside manner than Huffer. He took it, returning your smile with one of his own and moving to expose the damage on his leg more as you fished around subspace for your welder and some titanium patches.

It certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Sludge. He had a knack for denting his plating, either over the course of sparing with his brothers or while out in the field. You would’ve thought that he’d just get Swoop to take care of it, but more and more frequently he would be stopping by the med bay; he said he liked how much quieter it was there than in the retrofitted cave the Dinobots had claimed as their own.

It was almost laughable how intimidating you found Sludge when you first met. He had a gentle spark, reserved and well-intentioned. Sure he didn’t have the fastest processor, but you couldn’t keep up with Perceptor either; and what was a smart mech worth if they weren’t also kind? You’d much rather spend time with Sludge than Shockwave. It didn’t hurt that he was a good listener, too. Despite what other Autobots might suggest, he had a good memory, asking for updates on personal projects that you had mentioned offhandedly the last time you saw him. And he had a creative mind! Swoop had been talking to you about how Sludge had recently taken up two-dimensional etching and drawing. And he had a handsome face, delicate touch when getting your attention, and –

Wait what? Hold on, were you…did you have a crush on Sludge? Oh Primus, this was just what you needed in the middle of a war. Still, you could do worse. And the spark wants what the spark wants… So what, maybe you did have a crush on him. You might as well try and see where it goes; in this war you had to make what joys you could.

“Is it just me or does Y/N look like they’re trying to court somebot?”

It was gossip time in the empty corridor, two mechs making good use of the late hour and lack of nearby audio receptors to concern themselves with the lives of others.

“You just noticed? Yea, I caught em in the wash polishing like it was going out of style,” Cliffjumper gave a short laugh at the memory. “You’da thunk I’d caught em sneaking extra rations with the way they bolted outta there.”

“Any ideas who the lucky mech is?” Powerglide didn’t give the minibot a moment to answer before continuing. “I overheard from Doc Ratch one of the Dinobots has got a lil crush; maybe we’ve got some love-birds on base?”

“Primus, I hope not. No one deserves to have a dumb dino on their tail; they’re so stupid and clumsy, they’d wind up melting the poor bot down! Honestly, I think Y/N deserves better than getting slagged by Slag.”

“You’re just jealous you aren’t getting any,” the plane sniped.

“Powerglide, I’m just a realist. I can’t help that your processor is full of that romantic scrap.”

“Cliffjumper, I can’t help that you have an incurably abrasive personality.” Powerglide gave the Porsche a hearty pat as he began walking further down the hall. “Come on, maybe we can get Ratch to fix that personality component of yours! Or at least we can sit down; my struts are killing me!”

“I do not have an abrasive personality, you silicon sanded showboat!”

Neither took notice of the saddened giant on the other side of the corridor, watching the retreating mechs from around the corner.

Sitting in one of the metal booths stuck to the far wall of the Rec Room, you found yourself thinking it all through. Lost in the swirling liquid of your energon cube, you wondered if you had been reading the situation wrong. You thought that Sludge had reciprocated your feelings, but he hadn’t really responded to your efforts. He never mimicked your attempts at posing or polishing. Maybe he was just unaware of Cybertronian flirting? It would make sense, as he was made on Earth, but even then you would’ve thought someone would take pity on him and explain your efforts. It wasn’t like you were being subtle, even in non-Cybertronian terms. You even got advice from Carly, trying to figure out how she’d won over someone as oblivious as Spike. You tried to be as obvious as possible, complimenting his skills and appearance and inviting him to recreational activities. But even then, he would look flustered and come up with some reason to turn you down. Maybe he was just trying to let you down on amicable terms, ignore your advances but maintain your acquaintanceship. Maybe he-

“Hi! Room here to sit?”

The scratchy voice startled you out of your reprieve; you must’ve really been in your own processor not to notice the dinobot flyer approaching.

“Oh, Swoop! Yeah, of course, take a seat,” you gestured across the table. It was almost humorous watching him try to squeeze himself into the clearly too small booth; being the smallest dinobot still made him one of the biggest Autobots. Finally situating himself, he flashed you a mischievous smirk and his optics flashed in mirth. “How’s it going?”

“Good! Had to get out of Dino Den, though; too loud for reading when Grimlock and Slag fighting.” He emphasized his point by producing an anatomical datapad and setting it on the table.

“Well that’s too bad,” you said. “How’s everyone else doing?”

“Him Snarl hog TV all day, watching Nurse Whitney.” His tone held a slight annoyance at the distraction it must’ve posed to his own studying; you knew he was quite fond of the show, and probably found it near impossible not to be watching it. His optics lit up in sudden remembrance, a squawk making its way past his vocalizer as he straightened his posture. “Sludge work on project! Big art project!”

“Oh?”

“Yes! It pretty, very pretty! Him Sludge good at art. Best Dinobot, maybe even best Autobot! And good at other things too!” Swoop emphasized his point by holding aloft a digit, helm held high with a self-assured expression. “Him strong, very strong! Last fight, him take out twenty, no, thirty Decepticons! Him good at keeping others safe, protecting. Oh, and him best fisher of Dinobots! Good provider! Patient and quiet and-”

“Wait, what’s fishing?”

“Fish earth animals, live in water. Humans and Dinobots like catching fish, very fun and -”

It was hard not to notice the lumbering form of Sludge entering the Rec behind the chatty Pteranodon. His sweeping optics seemed to stop in the direction of your booth (though you suppose it would be hard not to notice Swoop, what with his crest and loud voice), his optics seeming to blink out for a second. Swoop continued on, oblivious to his brother’s presence.

That is until Sludge began stomping his way over. You quickly grabbed onto the table, thankful that it was bolted into the wall as the ground shook under his weight. It wasn’t often you were reminded of his tremorous step, but it seemed that whatever had gotten under his plating was enough for him to have forgotten the virtue of gentle pedes. You didn’t expect to see his normally soft features so soured, mouth drawn into a tight line and optics darkened into a furrowed glare. With his massive stride, it didn’t take long before Sludge reached you. His servo came to rest behind Swoop, the back of the booth’s bench groaning under his weight as he leaned down, optic to optic with his brother.

“What you Swoop think you do?” His voice seemed edged with a nervous worry.

“Me just talking to Y/N,” Swoop answered, flashing the Brontosaurus the same mischievous smile he had given you earlier. “You know they want go fishing? Me say you should take them!”

“Yeah,” you interjected, ignoring the fact that you had never discussed joining the Dinobots on their fishing exploits. “I think it sounds like fun!” You couldn’t help the eagerness that steeped into your EM field, hopeful that you might finally get an opportunity to spend some true quality time with him outside of the occasional med bay visit.

Sludge seemed to soften a bit at your reply, gifting you with a gentle smile before his brow furrowed. His smile turned to a slight pout as his gaze drifted down, seeming to be a bit lost in thought. He exvented sharply, lugging Swoop out of his seat and maneuvering the now indignant mech around to carry him under one arm. Ignoring his squirming brother, he turned to you with a sad smile that he tried to mask with a projected air of confidence in his EM.

“Me Sludge think on it. Would be fun. Uh, him Ratchet ask to talk to him Swoop, so we see you Y/N later.” With the lame excuse, he turned to leave the Rec. With a loud squawk, Swoop made his opinion on the matter known.

“No! Him Sludge like Y/N! Like whole bunch!” That seemed to stop the brontosaurus dead in his tracks, grip loosened enough in shock that the loud flyer was able to transform out of his grasp. He seemed stuck in place as his processor caught up with the situation. In contrast, you and Swoop seemed to be a flurry of movement, standing up from your seat in the booth as the Pteranodon perched himself on the back of the bench.

“Really?” Your response, lackluster as it might’ve been, was all you could dumbly muster up at the revelation.

“Yes, him won’t shut up about it! ‘Oh, them Y/N so nice, very sweet. Pretty face, pretty smile. Feel like me Sludge melt when they look at me. So smart, so kind.’” Swoop’s impression left quite a bit to be desired, but that was the last thing on your mind, your gaze drifting to the gentle giant in question as you took in his words. Sludge had sheepishly turned halfway towards you, optics firmly locked to the ground and servos fiddling together nervously. “Us Dinobots try talk to him about anything, him always distracted or drawing you.” That seemed to catch Sludge’s full attention. “Him have big project now, draw y-” A large servo suddenly came to rest on the Pteranodon’s beak, clamping it shut before anything too embarrassing could be shared. You craned your helm up to look at Sludge, his cheek plating positively painted with the glow of his optics and lips drawn into a pout.

“Sludge, is that true? Do you really like me?” His optics bashfully locked on the ground again, answering you with a soft nod. He dared a glance at your face before averting his gaze again. “You know, I like you a lot too.” That seemed to win his attention, finally maintaining some real eye contact. He nodded again with a hum and you frowned. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?” That stung, knowing that he was aware of your advances all along and hadn’t done anything. Especially when he apparently liked you too.

He opened his mouth before closing it, brow furrowing. You gave him a moment to formulate his thoughts.

“You Y/N deserve better than Sludge.” He spoke slowly, thinking hard on his words. “Deserve someone smart and not clumsy or stumbly. Deserve someone not hurt you.” You frowned at that.

“Sludge, you are one of the gentlest mech’s I know. You haven’t hurt me yet and I don’t think you will,” you said, stepping closer to him. “And in any case, I think I would know better than anyone else what I deserve. I think I deserve to be happy and getting to spend time with you makes me happy. You make me happy. Do I make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s be happy together.”

 BONUS:

“SQUAWK! Let Swoop go! No want to see smooches!”

[notwhelmedyet]

Dratchtember Day 6

Prompt: Intensity but tbh that prompt is going to fit better for tomorrow, because this actually is: Ratchet accidentally summons a demon and then falls in love, part 2/3 (also on ao3 here) (demon summoning part 1 here)

Ratchet set down the datapad he was looking at and reached for the stack on the floor. His fingertips brushed the pad on the top of the stack, but he couldn't quite reach.

"Drift, could you grab that for me? Top datapad on the pile." Ratchet asked.

"Get it yourself," Drift said. He was sulking because Ratchet had said he had to work on his reading and couldn't talk. He'd get over it soon, it wasn't like they didn't talk all the time. Drift just got bored easily.

"I can't get it, you're lying on top of me," Ratchet pointed out.

Drift sighed. "Fine." The weight on Ratchet's chest shifted and the top datapad lifted from the stack and placed itself in Ratchet's hand.

"Thanks," Ratchet said, propping the new datapad on the armrest of the couch and scrolling through to hopefully find the promised citation on Cybercrosis in ferrum-positive sparktypes. Absently, he let his hand rest on Drift's helm, petting Drift's finial. Drift squirmed and Ratchet paused his hand.

"You can keep going," Drift said roughly, and Ratchet did. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Drift was easily overwhelmed by physical contact - he'd guessed it from their first hug outside the summoning circle. Ratchet couldn't fathom the level of touch-hunger Drift was dealing with, but he could empathize. He'd felt isolated before Drift; that hug had probably been his first one since Thunderclash went off-planet. Drift had been alone the entirety of his remembered existence, except for passing contact with other Slivers and his time bound to his previous summoners. And Ratchet didn't think any of them were the cuddling sort.

Ratchet didn't like to think about Drift's previous summoners. It made him angry. He was half-convinced the reason Drift refused to tell him how to send him back was out of fear of being summoned again. While he was bound to Ratchet there was no way for Drift to be ordered to to live up to the more bloodthirsty parts of his demonic reputation.

Drift stretched, draping his arm over Ratchet's shoulder as he wiggled further up on Ratchet's chest. "You're supposed to be reading, Ratch," he said sleepily. "I know your reading doesn't make your aura blue like that."

"Auras don't exist," Ratchet corrected automatically.

"I don't exist, according to you."

"You are scientifically verifiable. Auras are imaginary," Ratchet said.

"It you say so, Ratch," Drift said appeasingly. "You know, if you don't want to read we could go for a walk."

"No, I have to do this. Otherwise Panax is going to jump on me during our morning meeting."

"I could jump him first," Drift suggested.

"I told you, I'm handling him. No attacking my faculty mentor."

"'Handling him'. Sure. That bastard better not say anything snotty to you again or I'm going to throw his prized paperweights off the hospital roof."

"Those are his Medical Excellence awards, they're not paperweights," Ratchet said. "Now shoosh, I'm trying to read."

"Mmmhmm," Drift agreed skeptically. But Ratchet really did have to finish the reading, so he pushed his thoughts about Drift aside and got to work. Ratchet had always had busy hands, he tended to worry holes in things when he wasn't paying attention. Petting Drift was a nice outlet for that restless energy.

About midway through his second reading the door slammed. Trefacto, Ratchet's roommate, locked optics with him. Ratchet draped his arm over the back of the couch, not quite sure what it looked like he'd been doing just then. Disadvantages of having an invisible demonic cuddle-buddy. "Forget something?" He asked.

"Yeah," Trefacto said, snapping back into motion as he hustled to his room. "I forgot my lucky crystal. We have an exam today in xenobiology."

Ratchet waited until Trefacto was out of sight before rolling his optics.

Trefacto skidded back into the room, rock in hand. "You have really bad posture dude."

"Nobody asked you," Ratchet said.

Trefacto laughed, because he pointedly could not differentiate between ratchet making jokes and not making jokes. It was probably for the best. Ratchet liked Trefacto as a roommate - he never used the common areas and he was almost never home when Ratchet was, so it was almost like not having a roommate but with half the housing costs. A pretty good deal.

"Good luck on your exam," Ratchet said. Trefacto waved as he left, tossing his lucky rock in his hand. Ratchet waited a beat. "If you keep being clingy in the common areas he is going to notice."

"Ah, but I don't care if he notices. Ratchet, can I get some healing crystals?"

"I imagine you could steal some if you wanted to," Ratchet said.

"I don't want to steal them! That's bad energy, Ratchet! You can't use a stolen healing crystal for good luck."

"I cannot believe you're into all that rubbish. You're a demon. People are supposed to be swindled into believing in magic by you, not the other way around. It's almost as bad as you being a practicing spectralist - "

" - Primus is real and in his grace he grants to every Cybertronian infinite life and unending capability for change."

"Yeah but if he's real he's the one who cursed you to be like this."

"Well." Drift sobered up. "I deserved it, didn't I? He wouldn't have done it fi I didn't deserve it. Can I get some pretty rocks, Ratchet?"

Ratchet groaned. There was only one way this could end. Him, in a open-air market full of junk, fake medicine and knickknacks, trying to buy some rocks without being seen by anyone who does, has or might ever know him.

---

"Medic Ratchet, you are needed on the third floor," a voice came over the intercom. Ratchet looked around. That was...but it couldn't...he wouldn't be that stupid. "Medic Ratchet, you are needed on the third floor reception area," Drift repeated.

"I'll be right back," Ratchet told the patient who he'd been instructing on their recovery physiotherapy routine. "They only do announcements like that if there's an emergency."

Ratchet didn't bother with the elevator - he had the worst damned luck with elevators in this building. He headed straight for the stairwell and started climbing. It was late - he knew there were at least three other residents and one fully trained medic in the building, but none of them would have been on the third floor. Third floor was long-term care, cybercrosis cases and comas and paralysis-type form fatigue. There wouldn't have been anyone on the floor because Ratchet had been scheduled to do the next nightly walk-through. There wouldn't be anyone on the third floor who could spot Drift except the patients and the ward manager -

Ratchet burst through the doors of the stairwell and nearly tripped over their mobile spark-support cart, which had been dragged out of its case. The ward manager was on the ground, propped up against a silhouetted figure with his hand clasped in theirs. "The medic is going to be right here, just hold on," Drift murmured.

"I'm here," Ratchet announced. "Almene? You with me?"

"There's a silver," Almene whispered, sounding dazed. Going into shock, probably. "There's an angel, Ratchet."

"That's good," Ratchet said, kneeling down by his side.

"It's rapid-onset frame rejection," Drift said. "There isn't much time."

"Since when are you a doctor?" Ratchet asked, plugging in. He was immediately buried in a wave of static and corrupted signals. Someone else pulled the cord and Ratchet found himself blinking at two golden optics in a sea of darkness. "Okay. Yeah. Frame rejection," Ratchet agreed. "We're going to get you downstairs to the operating room - Drift, grab a stretcher. I need to call in the cavalry, I can't do a frame transplant solo."

---

"So I guess you're reading my medical texts?" Ratchet asked, leaning against the balcony railing as he watched the fliers dance across the city skyline. An uneventful night, from the long view.

"Mostly I just watch you," Drift said, leaning up against his shoulders. "But you spend a lot of time reading, I was bound to pick up on some of it eventually. I like your job, you know? This is the first time I've gotten to stick around Cybertron watching someone do work that's actively making the world less evil."

"Except for the paperwork. I'm pretty sure all the paperwork is increasing the net evil in the world."

"Sure, Ratch."

Ratchet admired the night sky and tried not to count down the seconds until his break ended. But he couldn't help wondering..."Do you think Almene is going to remember that there was an angel in the long-term care ward?"

---

"You have completely failed to understand the object of this lesson," Panax said, leaning over the table. Ratchet assumed he was trying to loom over him, but after seeing Drift do that a few times in near total darkness while trying to blackmail Ratchet into watching movies with him the pose had rather lost its impact. "I will not have you disrespect the name and reputation of this institution by such gross violations of protocol."

A few months back, Ratchet would have stammered something about "doing better" but right now he wasn't feeling it. "That protocol was invented sixty years ago and has never improved mortality rates in actual clinical trials. The way I handled the case is one of the accepted interventions in almost every other hospital in this hemisphere. If you want to send me up to the discipline board for keeping someone alive, go ahead. I'd love to talk to them."

From over Panax's shoulder, Drift mimed throwing his hand over his forehead dramatically and half collapsing in horror. Ratchet did his best to not pay attention to the satirical game of charades going on behind his faculty mentor. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, sir?" He asked.

"I can refuse to sign off on you completing your residency, you know," Panax hissed.

"You can," Ratchet acknowledged. "You've mentioned that several times. If that happens, the board will give me a chance to make my case and then transfer me to another hospital to complete two additional years of supervised training. I looked into this, you know. Turns out there's an actual procedure and it isn't "send your nearly trained medic to work as a mortuary assistant." Ratchet left off the part where he'd been goaded into looking it up by Drift, incensed over Ratchet's repeated refusal to either report Panax for harassment or to allow Drift to throw him off the roof along with his "decorative paperweights".

"You can go." Panax sat down in his chair and waved at Ratchet. "Get back to work." Probably felt like he needed to regroup, think of more threatening threats. Well, Ratchet was pretty sure he could handle whatever Panax thought up - he wasn't especially creative.

Ratchet nodded, keeping a straight face only by virtue of months of practice watching Drift pantomime embarrassing things while Ratchet was trying to have serious conversations. He got up and left the room, leaving the door open a trifle longer than he needed, in order to give Drift time to slip out behind him. Halfway down the hallway, a silhouette popped into visibility in front of him and offered up a high five. Ratchet slapped hands with him and kept walking. "You were right, that felt amazing."

"I told you! I told you!" Drift jeered, hopping around after Ratchet like a petro rabbit pumped up on enjex. "Let me throw his paperweights off the roof. Please. I can wait until you have an airtight alibi, it'll be great. Or - or - better yet, I could trip him while he's walking in the hallway. Not even fatally! Please?"

"I'm horrified at the suggestion you know how to fatally trip people," Ratchet joked. "No, Drift, we're going to take the high road."

"Tripping him in the hallway is the high road. He said you cheated on your exam scores and then when proven wrong carried on his weird vindictive vendetta for two years, I ought to break into his apartment and swap out all his energon with floor wax."

"I appreciate the enthusiasm Drift, but I'm almost to the finish line, it's not worth fighting over it now," Ratchet said, patting him on the the shoulder. "Just wait, my next boss will probably be even worse."

"Not for long they won't be," Drift hissed.

---

There was someone screaming in Ratchet's berthroom. Ratchet was suddenly very, very awake.

"Drift!" He reached for Drift in the darkness and ended up being thrown off the berth, colliding against the shelf on the other side of the room. Several objects tumbled off the shelf, hitting the floor with a noise that sounded like gunshots in the formerly sleep-silent apartment. The screaming stopped, at least.

A door slammed and Trefacto called out. "Ratchet?"

"Sorry," Ratchet said. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You okay? That sounded scary."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Too many horror vids."

"Ok," Trefacto said skeptically. "Well, if you need anything, let me know."

"Thanks." Ratchet said. He waited until he could hear Trefacto go back to their room, then dragged himself back to his feet. Frag, his back hurt. "Drift?" He whispered. "Drift?"

Ratchet limped back to the berth and climbed back on, fumbling about for any sign of cold frame. His fingers found a bit of plating, which he followed to a shoulder and then to an entire sliver, curled up in the corner of his berth with his face buried in his arms. Drift was so still and so cold that Ratchet could have believed he was touching an empty frame. "Drift?" Ratchet asked again. He wasn't about to ask if Drift was okay, screaming nightmares were not the best sign of okayness. "You're safe. You're in my room, you're bound to me and no one can summon you. They can't hurt you any more."

"I hit you," Drift whispered.

"You were scared."

"I'm not supposed to be scared," Drift said. "I'm supposed to be evil and monstrous and too strong to hurt. I'm a monster. Monsters don't get to feel scared."

"Drift, I'm only going to say this once, because you're religious and it's going to offend you." Ratchet put his arm around Drift's shoulder, tentatively and then more firmly when he felt Drift relax into his arms. "If Primus did this? He fucked up. You don't deserve what happened to you. There is no amount of evil on the planet where someone would deserve this slag."

"I never dream about the bad things," Drift said. "It's never the murders or the...other stuff. It's stupid. I always dream about being summoned and then forgotten, just stuck inside a summoning circle forever. There's no reason why it couldn't happen. I'm bound until the summoner dies or releases me, it's been pure luck that some of them died before I - " Drift clutched at Ratchet's arm, burying his face in his shoulder. "Why couldn't he just unmake me? What's the point of this?"

"I don't know. But if I ever meet Primus, which I won't because he doesn't exist, I'm going to give him a kiss with my fist and ask him what he has to say for himself," Ratchet whispered, smacking his closed fist against this palm.

"Ratchet!" Drift hissed. "He's Primus."

"He's fiction. Or an asshole. Those are about the options, as I see it."

"I don't think he'd appreciate a kiss very much," Drift said. There was a long pause. "On the other hand, if you wanted to - if you wanted to kiss someone. I know someone who would like that very much."

"Do you?" Ratchet asked.

"I know you only didn't send me away because you pitied me," Drift whispered. "And it's unfair of me to take advantage of that pity. But you make me feel real, Ratchet. And I want to be real. I want to be real enough to love you."

Ratchet leaned back onto the berth, pulling Drift with him until they were lying down, limbs tangled together. His hands found Drift's helm, stroking over his finials. He smoothed over Drift's lips with his thumb, scared to miss and ruin the moment. Slowly he pressed his lips against Drift's and then leaned back. "Do you love me?" He asked.

"Yes," Drift admitted. "I'm sorry, I - "

"Then you're already real. I don't pity you, Drift. I'm angry for you. And, in case you hadn't noticed? I love you too. So why don't you kiss me?"

Drift surged forwards, sealing his lips against Ratchet's and licking his way inside. He was making needy noises in the back of his throat and Ratchet had never felt more wanted in his life. He clung to Drift, rolling onto his back and hunting for a flash of gold optics. He wanted to get to watch this, the way lovers did.

[spockandawe]

And now, Drift!!

First impression: I was intrigued, but not expecting too much depth. I like the whole ‘decepticon fanatic becomes an autobot’ angle, but I had no prior knowledge of Drift or awareness of phase 1 events, so I was just like ‘huh, maybe he’ll be interesting’

Impression now: MY BOY ;-; I love everything about him. I love how many emotions he has, even though lots of times he keeps them muffled. Ratchet’s line about being a killer seeking absolution hits him real hard, plus we see things like how he retreats and hides and polishes his sword when he and Rodimus have the conversation about why Rodimus never came back for him. And there’s the way he handled himself when he was being exiled, where he wasn’t responsible for Overlord and was taking the fall anyways. And EOS!!! He’s trying to be stoic, but boy, I can see you on your penance adventure where you’re refusing to repair yourself, please talk to someone (ratchet) about these emotions instead of struggling on your own :C And on top of that, he’s still so good-natured! He’s so affable, and he can be so silly and/or snarky under the right circumstances. I just want him to have all the best things and settle into the post-war environment for long enough that he can work past other people’s main perception of him being a mass murderer. He is that thing, but there’s also so much more, which he kept muffled for so long while he was being Deadlock.

Favorite moment: When he’s telling his part of the shadowplay arc. Fucking wrecks me. He’s got a rough backstory, and he’s telling everyone in the room about how he was dealing with an overdose and then with being beat up and being almost dead-- and while he has control of the narrative, he makes a short, hilarious detour to give Ratchet shit about religion. And THEN he gets so much more serious when he’s talking about how Ratchet said he could tell Drift was special, go out there and prove him right. I already talked in Ratchet’s post about how much that hurts for both of them, given how later events played out, even if Drift only recently had a reason to start bitterly regretting everything. There’s the expression on his face when he wakes up and Ratchet is talking to him. And he’s downright subdued when he talks about how he planned to brush off Ratchet’s advice about turning his life around and getting himself on his feet. This scene is so wonderful in so many ways.

Idea for a story: Okay, so I’ve written some of this already. But I still want to write more, from different angles. I want Pharma on the LL, and I want him and Drift clashing hard. And a lot of it is... jealousy? But it’s a complicated jealousy. Drift doesn’t feel insecure with Ratchet, but Pharma has all this history with Ratchet that Drift feels like he’ll never be able to catch up with. And Ratchet has effortlessly forgiven Drift for being Deadlock (not really, but it’s what pharma sees), but he’s still acting like Pharma is going to start spontaneously murdering all his patients for no reason whatsoever. Pharma doesn’t want Ratchet back, he feels hurt enough by Ratchet’s response at this point that he doesn’t want any of that, but still. Drift doesn’t trust Pharma, and Pharma is like ‘you motherfucking hypocrite’, and then he can’t stop prodding Drift in all his sore spots because Drift did it first, what did he expect-- And Ratchet is pretty much 100% on Drift’s side, which makes Pharma more bitter and makes Drift more confident, and does not contribute at all to deescalation, and I... want a story where it escalates as far as I can manage :P

Favorite relationship: Ratchet. All the way. There is no contest. I fell in love with this ship in like... issue 4, before I even knew who half the cast was. Every moment I saw with them together just made me want for them to succeed more. When I learned EoS existed and my online comics reading site was down, I went out driving in a minivan (bad) on long island (bad!!) just to hunt down a comic store and shove that content down my face immediately. I cannot talk enough about the layers of painful history that are between them when mtmte starts, and how they do at valuing each other enough that they’re able to grow past that history and baggage and establish a relationship for themselves that’s so loving and stable. They bring out the best in each other in so many ways, both in terms of being a supportive, loving partner, and in terms of being able to tease and have fun with each other. I never, ever expected them to be canon, even after canon got super gay. Cygate was communicated pretty clearly, and I wasn’t stressed about it becoming canon, but dratchet was the ship I cared next-most about, and I didn’t think canon would bother to go there, and I was so delighted when it did.

Unpopular opinion: I don’t know, as always XD I think that one of the larger stress points in their relationship is that drift has a hard time becoming less casually murdery. He’s trying, he really is trying hard, but this is millions of years of habit he’s trying to unlearn. And Ratchet knows that, but Ratchet is a medic to the core, and it bothers him when Drift kills someone and it really wasn’t... necessary. Not that I see people arguing that Drift immediately/effortlessly becomes a flawless never-murdery cinnamon roll, but it not a pleasant facet of his personality to really talk about, hahaha

Favorite headcanon: Oooh, I have a good one for this. After the end of LL, Drift continues to worry about how Rodimus is doing, and eventually invites him to move in. By this point, Thunderclash is also very invested in Rodimus’s well-being, and [insert my other headcanons about hella depression and wanting to be able to leave his pedestal] and basically follows Rodimus back to Cybertron too. And what you get is essentially a tug-of-war between Thunderclash and Drift where they don’t dislike each other or anything, but they’re both very concerned about Rodimus getting the best everything possible, and at first Rodimus is too depressed/exhausted/worn out to realize this is happening. I can’t decide if I want eventual bros smooching bros (I’d want to give it a very particular emotional flavor so soon after Drift losing his spouse) or if it would be platonic, or if it would be a romance thing with Thunderclash either, but the overall idea is that people are very politely fighting over who loves Rodimus more, and when he eventually gets (a bit of) a clue, that competitive emotional support helps him pull everything back together and feel more engaged with life again.

[sleep-swell]

MTMTE Swerve X reader {how to be failure 101} chapter 2. Cue the beat drop

You would be lying if you said you were comfortable and relaxed. Memories from the last couple of hours started floating back to you, or was it days? How long have you been out?

Groggily, you sat up and started rubbing your eyes. The tiredness was making you want to go back to sleep.

You looked around, taking in your surroundings. It looked like a normal room, but made entirely from metal. There were tables, and beds with no sheets, and some things that looked like torture devices. No wait, repair tools. Yeah these two things were the opposite of eachother.

God, you were so confused right now. It was warm, but you were also laying on a cold surface, one of those beds.

As your tiredness faded, you stood up and jumped off the bed onto the ground.

'I have to find out where I am,' you thought.

Not so long after  you found a place closed off with a curtain. Curious as to what was behind it, you opened it.

Your blood ran cold as you looked at what you assumed was a corpse of another of your team members, her name was Osh.

~•past•~

"Okay, so you clearly like Fred." Osh pried.

"Dude! Why would I like him, he makes everyone uncomfortable."

"Fair point. I like Mike."

"So you assumed I liked Fred just so you could tell me you like Mike?" You chuckled.

"Shit, you got me there."

"Yeah I am 100% sure that was planned."

You both broke into a fit of laughter.

~•present•~

Quickly, you covered your mouth and started sobbing and silently creaming. She was such a fun girl, selfish but really fun to hang around with.

'She's dead.' you thought.

The others their death didn't affect you as much cuz you were panicking and trying to survive. Osh was the first to disappear, everyone thought she got killed, but apparently she survived.

And now you're looking at her, not running away, you got to see all the details. The scars running along her arms and... It's too much.

Your sad sounds made their way through the medbay, catching the attention of the medic. He looked at his companion, and signed, "She's awake."

Preparing himself for your outburst, he made his way towards you.

"Hello." You heard behind you.

To hear someone else here was already a surprise, but after turning around, finding out what they looked like was an even bigger surprise, making you uncover your mouth and scream.

Your screaming caught the attention of some bots in the medbay, and some close to it. Luckily, they assumed it was just a patient.

"Shhh!" Non-whispered the person.

"I am Ratchet. The medic of this ship."

Surprisingly you stopped creaming, but were unable to speak out of shock. You decided to communicate with your hands instead, and pointed towards Osh.

Ratchet caught up what you meant, and said, "She's not dead, I am keeping her alive. Although, she's not very stable and might die any moment."

She's not dead? Tears were forming in your eyes as you approached Osh again, this time you sat next to her and stroked her hazelnut hair.

"Th... Thank you," you managed to squeak out.

The fact that she might die was depressing news, you were gonna be alone. A lonely human far away from home, unable to ever see another one again.

Ratchet, on the other hand, was glad that you were easy to calm down, and that you thanked him in place of hitting a tantrum.

He quickly commed Ultra Magnus to come over to him and deal with this human problem.

While Ultra Magnus was on his way, you didn't change your location. You still sat calmly next to Osh, refusing to believe you were gonna be left alone without her if things got wrong, if she were to leave.

Soon enough, Ultra Magnus arrived. Behind, or rather next to him, were Rodimus, Drift, and Brainstorm. Brainstorm saw the 3 running somewhere and just decided to tag along. It had to be something interesting if Rodimus ran with the others, right?

"Ratchet!" You heard.

"Where's the human?" They sounded very exited, and noticeably male. The fact he used the term 'human', you assumed it was also an alien.

But if this whole ship is full of aliens, aren't you the alien?

The curtains around the bed were opened wider open, and in front of your nose was a giant face with a huge grin.

The person put his hand in front of you, wanting to shake yours. You grabbed two fingers and he began shaking his hand violently.

"My name is Rodimus, the captain of The Lost Light. Which is the name of this ship by the way."

His grin didn't leave him until he was shoved away by another person. He, was also male. Was everyone here male?

The person who shoved Rodimus away looked way more serious, and didn't invite your personal space. Instead, he just talked.

"My name is Ultra Magnus. I'd like to move forward into who I am but it's not relevant. You and I are going to discuss who you are, and why you're here, together with your past experience."

"And i am Drift, you can always talk to me about anything if you'd like." Waved another person at you.

"If you would just follow me," said Ultra Magnus.

You looked towards Osh, not wanting to leave her behind, and then back at Ratchet, who said, "She's gonna be fine, don't worry. She'll still be alive when you're back."

Ultra Magnus saw that you stood up and took his leave, expecting you to follow. Drift wanted to offer you his servo, but before he could make a movement, Rodimus snatched you up and placed on his shoulder, still grinning and following Ultra Magnus.

After a while, you arrived at a door that opened automatically and we're set down on a huge desk.

"So," started Ultra Magnus, "Let's begin with who you are exacly and what happened on your ship."

"My name is (y/n) (l/n) and I come from earth. I was send into space with my crew to see if our ship worked. We were with 5, then suddenly an alien wolf-like thing was on board after a landing break."

"He started killing everyone, I was the last to survive. My friend, Osh, who's now on board this ship too, was the first to get attacked."

"And what did the creature look like?"

"He had fluorescent yellow eyes, and..."

You continued your storytelling, until everything was clear. After that, you were given a sheet to sleep under in Rodimus's hab-suite. Offcourse, you went to see if Osh was fine at first.

After confirming that everything was was, you went to sleep. You needed your rest, since tomorrow you'll be introduced to the rest of the ship.

"Goodnight (y/n)!" Whisper-shouted Rodimus.

"Goodnight Rodimus. Thanks for doing this."

"Offcourse! You're one of us now," he beamed.

Meanwhile, a certain bartender went to recharge, obnoxious to anything.

--------------------------------------------------------- Hello y'all, AGT here!

Sorry that Swerve isn't mentioned much.. BUT! He will be in the next chapter~

[transformers-art-showcase]

P.A.T.C.H. #06: "Life After the Big Bang"

There’s a common rule of thumb when it comes to comics: you can jump in when you see a new #1 on the cover. If not, be wary –you’re not gonna get it, you’ve skipped episodes, you’re missing out. Well, you know what? Nuts to that! We here at P.A.T.C.H. like to stick it to common sense and provide a halfway decent explanation for it! So here we are, presenting a story from possibly the most popular “Transformers” comics title ever that is not a number 1 and provides a satisfying, complete story with connections to more! Enjoy! ... No, seriously, did it take us that long to talk MTMTE?!

“LIFE AFTER THE BIG BANG”

“The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye” #4-5 (2012)/ “Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye” Volume 2

Written by James Roberts, pencils by Alex Milne, colors by Josh Burcham, letters by Shawn Lee The amazing sogn for this wondrous edition of P.A.T.C.H.: https://youtu.be/tvqlt7OWTOk https://open.spotify.com/track/4p82pfEa4cayPqXLN6Rhzm

SO WHAT’S IT ABOUT? After receiving a cryptic, worrisome message, Autobot medic Ratchet, turncoat Autobot Drift and bad luck magnet Pipes land on the medical outpost of Delphi on the planet Messatine to investigate. Faced with a motley crew of doctors and patients and a deadly epidemic, our heroes have to rush both against unexpected enemies and their own worsening health... Oh, and Tailgate and Red Alert aren’t doing so hot on the ship, either. WHAT DO I NEED TO KNOW? The opening blurbs mostly fill you in on everything: the recent end of the Autobot-Decepticon War, the proposal to search for the fabled Knights of Cybertron (“Death of Optimus Prime” one-shot), the open invitation by captain Rodimus into the starship “Lost Light” and its disastrous launch (“More Than Meets the Eye” #1). Other than that, the rest are character threads picked up from previous issues of the series and can be ignored for now, to focus on the stand-alone nature of the thing. Still, let’s go over some major ones. In terms of pre-existing character development, the most pressing issue would be Drift’s dramatic arc(s). Although he first appeared in “All Hail Megatron” #5, he already had a pretty long history behind him, mostly outlined in the first “Drift” mini-series. In those four issues (written by Shane McCarthy, penciled by Alex Milne, colored by Josh Perez and lettered by Chris Mowry), it was revealed that Drift started out as destitute and homeless before the War, and so the Decepticon vision of equality appealed to him greatly. (Not to mention giving him an outlet for his pent-up rage.) He was renamed “Deadlock” and garnered a reputation of cruelty and efficiency. That is, until a disobedience episode, an escape attempt and a brief stint with the Circle of Light, a group of pacifist warrior-scholars, changed that. Following that, he bumped into the Wreckers (“Spotlight: Drift”, written by Shane McCarthy, penciled by Casey Coller, colored by Joana Lafuente and lettered by Chris Mowry) and started associating with the Autobots, with whom he stayed for the next few years, up to the second confrontation with the Dead Universe forces (“Chaos”, written by Mike Costa and James Roberts, with art by Livio Ramondelli and letters by Chris Mowry, which we’ve briefly talked about here). One near-death experience later, he emerged as a cheerful spiritualist, much to one famous medic’s annoyance. Just this once, Ratchet’s wrong –this latest rendition of the character is one of his most popular ones, and even if you’re not interested in his pre-history, you can go by what is said about him easily. Though Tailgate is (rather famously) one of the breakout stars of the series, it’s not he who has the more extensive history, but his roomie Cyclonus. An ancient warrior and comrade of deranged megalomaniac Nem-, excuse me, completely stable individual Nova Prime’s, he was an undead creature under the sway of the Dead Universe for a long time (“Revelation”, written by Simon Furman and drawn by various artists). He later joined fellow Golden Age survivor Galvatron and his reformed army against Cybertron (“Chaos” and “Heart of Darkness”... I think so, at least). Following the betrayal of his commander for the love of his home planet, he joined the “Lost Light” after a misunderstanding (and beating up Whirl, but that’s perfectly normal). He’s been warned at least one on his violent tendencies by Rodimus and has expressed his doubts over the entire War; can he really make a fresh start with these people? Finally, and although that could be considered a bit of a spoiler, certain details –locations, characters, even phrases– first appeared or were mentioned in “Last Stand of the Wreckers”, and specifically its trade paperback editions. Click here to get there immediately and (hopefully) get a few good reasons to check out the book yourselves! WHERE DO I GO FROM THERE? To all of “More Than Meets the Eye”, obviously! These two issues, apart from being stand-alone, plant the seeds for so much more down the road, it’s dizzying! Keep up with the series, where all the characters mentioned here receive further development, and when you’re done, be sure to jump in on “Lost Light”, its continuation. If, however, you want to go to specific arcs from the first season of the series based on individual elements (most by the same team as this issue), I’d suggest “Shadowplay” (issues #7-9 or Volume 3) for Ratchet’s past with Drift (and Red Alert’s troubles), “Remain in Light” (#17-21 or Volume 5) for the comeback of Ratchet’s antagonist, “Before and After” and “Cybertronian Homesick Blues” (#12 and #13, both in Volume 4) for Cyclonus and Tailgate’s continuing development and “Under Cold Blue Stars” (issue #15 or Volume 4) for Pipes’ shining moment. Reader discretion is advised: at least one of these stories is known to cause intense pain in the feels. Don’t say we didn’t warn you. Finally, make sure to pick up the dual 2012 Annuals for “More Than Meets The Eye” and “Robots in Disguise” (both contained in Volume 3 of their respective trade collections). Both are split in two. One half of their stories are the adventures of the present cast interacting with a Titan, a huge Transformer from the distant past. The other half, drawn by artist Guido Guidi (who also colors his work) in the style of the old Marvel “Transformers” series (as well as various “cosmic”, high sci-fi titles of the publisher), provides added world-building and backstory for the entire universe. While seemingly unrelated, the origin stories explain a few holes in the pasts of key characters (Cyclonus was young once?! And he knew Dai Atlas, too?!) and become vital later on, especially in the finale of “Lost Light”. IS IT ANY GOOD? It was a satisfying mystery that showcased how unique this world and its characters are. It featured the evolution of a true master artist. It introduced about a trillion things in 44 pages. It provided us with proof that Ratchet is, and shall forever be, one of the greatest things we have ever produced in this miserable world. WAIT, WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING ABOUT DRIFT?! Oh yeah, he’s there, too! Did I forget that? Never mind, song, playlist, go!

AND YOU THINK YOU'VE FIGURED OUT EVERYTHING | PLOT AND DIALOGUE While the format of this story isn’t unfamiliar, even for this feature (this is our third mystery, after “Windblade” and “Punishment”), what separates this one is how dense it is. Within the first three pages of the story, we’re introduced to three characters, one location and an impending threat, all unrelated to the main cast so far. Various techniques –unreliable journal narration, dialogue insertion, two-page spread– are mixed to give everyone as much character as possible and make everyone suspect for what’s going on. And the onslaught of detail doesn’t stop there. This is the kind of story that would’ve been impossible with any other type of property, even a sci-fi one: the very idea of transformation is integral to how it works. Alt-mode details, in-universe cultural views, even having the ability to change shape are used both as world-building and clues for the mystery. This is the kind of story that makes the casual, vaguely interested reader into a devotee and forces them to go back and reread it to get all the foreshadowing. This applies to the dialogue, too. Roberts’ language, which we’ve seen before here, has been praised as snappy and quotable (Ratchet and Drift here, full stop), but it also shows a deep appreciation for all “Transformers” lore. The famous joke on the best names being taken, for example? Done at the expense of an obscure character from a previous generation reusing the name “Prowl”. If there’s one downside to all that, it’s that some scene transitions can be a little clumsy (Red Alert’s scenes, though important for later, come a bit out of left field), but it’s a small price to pay for the excellence on display.

Hark! What is that I see? A vessel is leaving the port! The sirens of the “S. S. Dratchet” are blaring! All aboard! FEELING SPACED BREATHING OUT LISTERINE | ART And speaking of excellence, the team of Alex Milne and Josh Burcham are on fire here. The amount of detail, fluidity and expressiveness on all pre-existing characters is incredible, but the new designs are a triumph on their own. Most will be distracted by Pharma (I know I was!), but it’s Ambulon’s story-important form that’s the real star here. In general, however, there’s incredible synergy between the art and the story. Background details (First Aid’s badge collection) and actions (again, First Aid’s fiddling in the second issue) are as important as anything else to solve the mystery, so make sure you read slowly and pay attention. In general, Milne’s able to pack an incredible amount of information into very tight pages. The best example is probably Drift attacking another character and transforming in a single, enlarged panel and a few mini, inserted ones. Lastly, the backgrounds need to be highlighted. The arrival to the outpost and the climax excluded, all scenes are set indoors, but the art doesn’t feel constrained by them. Instead, it has two different approaches to interior spaces. Everything in Delphi looks used, dented, past its prime –even the very walls feel grimy. This makes it the polar opposite to the brightly lit, spacey rooms of the “Lost Light”, full of inviting light blues and pinks (the violent outburst in Cyclonus’ room is the exception). Burcham’s richly textured work favors faded browns, sickly greens and rusted reds –the liquid of the mysterious disease looks eerily much like blood. Two flashback-montage sequences (Tailgate’s narration and the final explanation for the outbreak of the epidemic) are much freer in panel construction and dreamier in color pallet, but are once again tight and informative. Add to this some splashes of robo-gore and the unobtrusive lettering (Pharma’s silent speech bubble and use of a laser scalpel is another small miracle) and this is an artistic five-course meal.

Pssst. Nobody tell Pipes “corpse-pile” isn’t an actual game. Let him figure it out on his own. YOU'D KILLED THE BETTER PART OF ME | CHARACTERS AND THEMES But, if you’ll let me get personal for a moment, despite all the above gushing, my favorite element in this story is still its protagonist. Ratchet’s arc in IDW has been one defined by his old age, not a unique element in the franchise –same goes for his “Animated” and “Prime” incarnations, after all. Where this medic separates himself, however, is how he’s tied to the larger themes of reconstruction and moral grayness. The characters of this universe are no strangers to morally questionable actions –we have already seen one such early demonstration from the Autobots on this feature–, but the culprit behind the Delphi disease really takes the cake. He claims all sorts of survivalist justifications for his criminal actions, but the one that rubs the worst are his similarities to Ratchet –he calls attention to them to buy time and out of a need to show off, in traditional “baddie” fashion. And that hurts. After all the effort to end the war, there’s still rot, (literal and figurative) disease and evil. How long can anyone hold onto their ideals in such a world? Won’t these ideals be corrupted, sooner or later? Why not just copy the bad guy’s tactics? If such violence is justified, why not snap and kill the bastard already? Why remain selfless and sacrificial –isn’t it tiring? The villain’s charm and Ratchet’s moral dilemma play off of each other wonderfully through Roberts’ snarky dialogue, and the final stinger remains uncomfortable. In the b-plot, this theme is further emphasized with Tailgate and Cyclonus’ scenes, where the senior bot berates the younger one on choosing a faction knowing little of their world. The younger characters introduced do offer another view –that there can be hope for the future-, so there really is no final closure offered. Instead, I wish to end this paragraph with the words of another great author: “Life persists”.

Even beaten down, rusting from the inside out and minutes before death, Ratchet is still cooler and more presentable than all of us at our best. BUT I CAN'T STILL FOCUS ON ANYTHING | FINAL THOUGHTS While reading this story again for this feature, I had flashes of my first time reading it a few years back. At that point, I hadn’t been completely sold on “Transformers”, but processing the facts and the details and the character beats here, I started seeing that there was something great about them. “More Than Meets the Eye” is a special book, the perfect gateway to a rich, complex, beautiful universe and introduced me to one of my faves. This wasn’t the story that blew me away (that might come up later), but it definitely was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

[kudosmyhero]

Transformers (vol. 1) #21: Aerialbots Over America

Read Date: May 23, 2023 Cover Date: October 1986 ● Writer: Bob Budiansky ● Penciler: Don Perlin ● Inker: Ian Akin ◦ Brian Garvey ● Colorist: Nel Yomtov ● Letterer: Janice Chiang ● Editor: Michael Carlin ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ●I’m curious if the aerialbots are separate from the Seekers ● maybe they are different. it’s hard to tell for sure on the cover, but I think they have Autobot sigils ● “Don’t worry, Maria, nothing can make me forget.” Morgan Freeman voice: But something did make him forget. ● creepy

● got a few new Decepticon names: Shrapnel, Kickback, and Bombshell ● Insecticons! first saw them at the end of season 1 of the G1 cartoon. one of them had a very creepy way of talking by repeating the last word of his sentence, sentence. ● I still don’t understand how the Transformers still aren’t 12 tons when they transform into something small, like an insect ● Ricky just walks on past the security guard holding a gun (Megatron) and the guard doesn’t challenge him about it at all ● doesn’t matter if they’re there at your request, Optimus. Ratchet’s word should outweigh yours in terms of medical treatment ● Ratchet: “You may be commander of the Autobots, but in my sick bay you’re just another patient!” there we go. ● the Aerialbots are: Silverbolt, Slingshot, Fireflight, Air Raid, and Skydive ● yo, Circuit Breaker’s back! ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: Richard Vasquez supervisor of Hoover Dam bids farewell to his family before going off to another day of work. He is struck by a cerebro shell fired by Bombshell, putting him under the Insecticon's thrall. Taken to Megatron, the begin their mission to take over the dam, Megatron transforming into gun mode to act as a weapon for Vasquez to take the dam hostage with. Breaking his way into the control room with the help of the Insecticons, Vasquez, under Megatron's orders orders the controllers to turn off the dam.

Meanwhile, at the Ark, repairs are being done to Optimus Prime as Donny Finkleberg imparts important information about some Autobots that appeared on Earth. Proving that he can show them where these new Autobots materialized, Optimus agrees to send Jetfire out to learn the truth of Donny's claims. Just then Bumblebee rushes in to tell Optimus Prime about capturing of Hoover Dam. Deciding that this needs immediate action and calls in Wheeljack's newest creation: The Aerialbots. Although only their commander Silverbolt has been fully programmed by the Creation Matrix, Prime sends the entire group to investigate Decepticon activity at the dam.

At Hoover Dam, Vasquez completes his mission in securing the dam and the Insecticons take control of the facility. A Space Bridge then materializes and Ramjet, Thrust, and Dirge emerge from it to oversee a giant boring device travel through the bridge and drill into the dam in order to siphon it's energies out. Elsewhere, Jetfire and Donny arrive at the site where the seven Autobots materialized, and find no trace of Jetfire's comrades, but they find a source of fuel on the ground prompting Jetfire to return to base with Donny in order to fashion a tracking device to locate the missing Autobots.

While at Hoover Dam, the Aerialbots arrive and attempt to stop the drilling, but find opposition from Dirge, Ramjet, Thrust and the Insecticons. Finding that they cannot stop them individually, the five Aerialbots merge into Superion and is able to destroy the boring device. When Vasquez appears on top of the dam and attempts to shoot Superion with Megatron, Superion reaches to kill the human, with Silverbolt's mind fighting with the others to prevent them from killing a human. when Vasquez's daughter (on the scene with her mother since the take over) cries out to her father, Vasquez manages to break free of Bombshell's control. While Silverbolt forces the other Aerialbots to disconnect, Vasquez takes Megatron and fires at the Space Bridge, causing it to vanish back to Cybertron. With his plot foiled, Megatron and his Decepticons retreat. As the Aerialbots retreat themselves they are completely unaware that Bombshell has followed along for the ride.

While at the secret headquarters of a new government agency, the Rapid Action Anti-Robot Team (RAAT) Circuit Breaker, the group leader have returned with their first successful "kills", the Autobots Blaster, Perceptor, Beachcomber, Powerglide, Warpath, Cosmos and Seaspray!

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Transformers_Vol_1_21)

Fan Art: TFA Aerialbots Final Lineup by dou-hong

Accompanying Podcasts: ● Transformers Chronicles - episode 21

● Transformers University - episode 62

[remembertae]

Law & Order “Dignity”

(Photo: NBC)

S20 E5, released Oct. 23, 2009

WRITTEN BY: Richard Sweren and Julie Martin

SYNOPSIS Dr. Walter Benning — a third trimester abortion provider — is shot dead at his church. A cop on the scene informs detectives Cyrus Lupo and Kevin Bernard that a witness saw a white man flee the building immediately after the shooting. According to Benning’s wife, an anti-abortion protester had shot her husband at his Riverdale clinic the year prior (the assailant is currently in prison). When the detectives visit the clinic, they see a large crowd of protesters from an organization called Mission for Life. But according to one of the clinic nurses, the MfL protesters are non-violent and even assisted in apprehending last year’s shooter. When the detectives notice that the clinic received several recent calls from a Pennsylvania phone number, the nurse says it was the boyfriend of an incoming patient, and that he sounded angry.

The detectives track down Jonah, former boyfriend of Blair (the young PA woman seeking a third trimester abortion). But when Jonah admits he was scared off of parenthood when Blair said the baby would have serious health problems, it becomes clear he wasn't the shooter. The detectives then question a visibly pregnant Blair, who explains her child will have fragile skin disease and require round-the-clock medical care. She mentions how excited her father was to become a grandfather, which leads the detectives to questioning her dad, Professor Morton. Initially, Morton claims he only called the clinic, but eventually admits he also visited the day before the shooting. While there, he told his daughter’s story to a protester who told him not to worry about his daughter’s unborn baby.

The detectives next visit the Mission for Life headquarters, where a staffer and MfL attorney Roger Jenkins assure them that they too want to catch the killer. The staffer then identifies a photo of the suspect as Wayne Grogan, an overzealous protester not affiliated with MfL. Through Grogan’s ex-wife, the detectives try tricking Wayne into meeting them at the hospital. Unfortunately, Grogan’s son has tipped him off and sent Jenkins as a legal representative to negotiate his dad’s surrender. Instead, the detectives go back to the son, pressure him for a tip, and eventually apprehend Grogan at his girlfriend’s cabin in the woods.

Jenkins represents Grogan at his trial and immediately bargains with district attorneys Michael Cutter and Connie Rubirosa for ten years on a manslaughter charge. The DAs refuse, which is when Jenkins says his client will claim he acted in defense of another (i.e. Blair Morton’s unborn baby). He later tells the judge that unborn baby Morton’s medical condition is serious but survivable, and that Grogan knew this before he killed Benning. Much to the DAs dismay, the judge allows this argument.

The DAs meet with their boss, Jack McCoy. McCoy tells them they need to prove Grogan wanted to kill Benning before he heard about the Mortons. Rubirosa questions nurse Jennice Morrow, who supposedly quit working at Benning’s clinic because of the protesters. But it turns out Morrow quit because she saw Benning accidentally deliver a live baby, then murder it. Rubirosa informs Cutter and McCoy and says they need to notify the defense team. But since that information isn't directly related to Benning’s murder (and could only be used by Jenkins to prejudice the jury), they tell her to keep quiet.

At the trial, witness testimony keeps working against the DA’s case; Jenkins gets Professor Morton to admit he doesn't support his daughter having an abortion, and then a gynecologist who vouches for Morton’s professionalism insults pro-lifers by referring to them as “hypocrites and fools.” The defense ratchets up their case by bringing in Lisa Barnett, a woman who gave birth to a terminally sick baby even after doctors suggested she have a third trimester abortion (and whose story apparently inspired Grogan). Her tale about the 21 hours she spent with her beloved infant daughter — whom she wanted “to die with dignity” — leaves half the jury in tears. However, when Cutter asks if she believes late-term abortion providers offer an important service, she surprises the defense by saying “yes.”

At this point, Cutter tells McCoy he wants to take the manslaughter deal, especially because he personally can't abide late term abortion. McCoy refuses. Then they learn that the defense found out about nurse Morrow (via Rubirosa, who refused to omit that information) and are bringing her in as a witness. On the stand, Morrow describes in brutal detail how Benning delivered the baby by accident, asked the mother if he should complete the procedure, then stabbed the baby’s neck when the mother said, “yes.” Though everyone in the room is horrified, Morrow also verifies that the baby would have lived for only one or two days.

Later, the DAs argue with each other about the case. Rubirosa says she used to believe Roe v. Wade was gospel but now she’s not so sure where a woman’s privacy ends and another being’s dignity begins. Cutter tells her to just do her job but she says she can’t just set her soul aside like he can.

During closing arguments, Jenkins shows the jury a photo of Daniel Morton, Blair’s newborn baby. Cutter is about to show bloodied family photos from Benning’s wallet, but cans the emotional approach and speaks philosophically about valuing life by eschewing violence. Cutter’s case works. The jury finds Grogan guilty. And though Rubirosa wants McCoy to transfer her elsewhere, he refuses. McCoy tells Rubirosa and Cutter to get over their differences.

KEEPING IT REAL QUOTIENT Before this episode came out in late 2009, series producer Dick Wolf said it would be a “balanced, thought-provoking drama about abortion.” Given that this story is clearly based on the murder of Dr. George Tiller — a third trimester abortion provider who was shot dead by an anti-choice activist at his church less than five months before this episode aired — I think it’s important to look at the creative licenses taken to create a “balanced” narrative. From my point of view (and many other abortion rights advocates) George Tiller was a hero who helped women end pregnancies that would have hurt them, or would have forced them to give birth to babies with severe, sometimes fatal abnormalities. He didn't deserve to die. But since the writers felt the need to present abortion with a “both sides are problematic” viewpoint, they thought it was necessary to make it seem like his fictional counterpart did things that justified him being shot. Thus, we are told that Dr. Benning was, in fact, a literal baby killer. I can't overstate how deeply offensive this characterization is, especially so soon after Tiller’s death. That detail about Benning stabbing a newborn in the neck was absolutely fabricated for the purpose of making the dead provider less sympathetic.

Instead of vilifying the provider, I wish this episode had spent more time talking about Blair Morton and her quest for a late term abortion because that would have been a far more compelling ethical quandary. My personal feeling about abortion is this - I will always value the life, liberty, and agency of the pregnant person over anyone else, including the fetus. If that means carrying a pregnancy to term against a physician’s advice (as Lisa Barnett chose), then I support that. By the same token I believe that if Blair wants an abortion, she should have one. But I also think it's tragic that our economic and health care systems compel a woman like Blair to seek abortion mainly because she cannot afford to raise that special needs child. But of course, this narrative barely addresses the financial issue*, except for when Prof. Morton tells the detectives (rather unconvincingly) that he’ll figure out a way to cover the baby’s medical costs. Blair is hardly a part of this story at all. Her dad and her fetus both play bigger roles here, which is fitting because this episode isn't so much about abortion as it is “how men feel about abortion”.

In the first half of the episode, Detective Bernard makes a big show of being disrespectful and snotty toward the abortion clinic nurse. When Lupo later tells him to knock off the snide remarks, Bernard says he was born two months premature because his mom tried to end her pregnancy by throwing herself down a flight of stairs. This is why he is pro-life and needs to be a dick toward the clinic nurse. Ah yes, the old “someone else’s abortion is about me” trick. Here's the deal - abortion only happens to the pregnant person and the fetus inside them. That’s it. For example, my abortion only happened to me and the fetus that was inside me. It didn’t happen to you. My abortion didn't “almost happen” to the person who gave you up for adoption, or your mom who tried to throw herself down a flight of stairs. If you are here and alive because the person who birthed you decided against abortion or the stairs didn't work, I am happy for you. But your parent’s choice had absolutely no bearing on mine, nor should it have. So don't come at me with that “What if I’d been aborted?!” argument, because it is irrelevant and I will never care.

Similarly, I don't care that Cutter is against late-term abortion outside of the courtroom. During a scene in which McCoy warns Rubirosa that you can't count on a New York jury to be pro-choice, he says, “My daughter was pro-choice until she taped a sonogram of my grandchild to be on her refrigerator. Now…” Guess what? I don't care what McCoy’s sellout daughter thinks, either. Also, becoming a mom only made me MORE vehemently pro-choice, so don't assume we all turn anti once we decide to have a baby. Rubirosa’s angst about Roe v. Wade felt pretty maudlin, especially for a show that tends to tell you very little about its professional protagonists’ personal feelings and viewpoints. It sucks that abortion is used as a catalyst for all this clunky, overwrought character development. But from the late 1990s to about this point, TV so often talked about abortion in this way. A pregnant secondary or tertiary character’s desire to terminate becomes this heart-wrenching conversation piece for a bunch of other people who aren't pregnant (see Dawson’s Creek, Felicity, House, and Everwood). We don't see that sort of storytelling as much nowadays and I am sure grateful for that. It's hard to believe that not so long ago, an episode like this was considered a quality, balanced take on reproductive choice.

GRADE D- If they’d found Grogan not guilty, it would have been an F.

* Conveniently overlooking the cost of raising a special needs child was something that bothered me about this terrible SVU abortion episode

- by Tara