#single-core processor

[xenon1962]

[digitalbytes]

Is Intel's New CPU Better Than AMD's New CPU? Let's Break It Down

When it comes to choosing the best CPU for your needs, the rivalry between Intel and AMD is always a topic of debate. Both brands have released some incredible processors recently, but which one is truly better? Is Intel's new CPU really that much better than AMD's new CPU? Well, the answer isn't as clear-cut as you might think.

Intel's latest processors, like the Intel Core i7 and Intel Core i9 from their 13th generation, have brought significant performance improvements. They boast faster clock speeds, enhanced multi-core capabilities, and better single-threaded performance, making them a great choice for gaming and multitasking. But is that enough to outdo AMD’s latest offerings, like the AMD Ryzen 7000 series?

AMD’s processors are no slouches either. With impressive multi-threaded performance, better power efficiency, and a more affordable price tag, AMD has been dominating in certain segments, especially for users looking for solid performance on a budget.

So, which one is better? It really depends on what you're looking for. If you need maximum single-threaded performance for tasks like gaming or software that demands high clock speeds, Intel might be the better option. But, if you want a CPU that excels in multi-core tasks, provides great value, and runs cooler, AMD could be your winner.

At the end of the day, both brands offer high-performance CPUs that deliver excellent results. It’s important to understand your needs and choose the one that aligns with your computing requirements. Whether you choose Intel or AMD, rest assured that you're getting top-tier performance.

Visit Blumenit Computer for more information on the latest CPUs and expert guidance on making the right choice for your build.

[jweekgoji]

Can you do another part of yandere D-16, please 😭 I love the stories so much! Make us pleasure him so bad until he's wimpering, then tons of aftercare! And make us love him, not just a one-night stand 😭

Yandere!D-16/Reader

tw: some minot changes in canon, slight yandere themes, valve fingering (MDNI), gn!reader, D-16 has a valve, sub!D-16, soft dom!reader, power dynamic cogged!reader/cogless!d-16. word count: ~1650 a/n: this can be considered as a second part to this. but I think (??) it also can be related to this. probably somewhere between the other two I wrote before. there are a few similar requests about d-16, but I want to do all of them differently as much as my creativity lets me. tagging since I was asked: @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main

The day D-16 met you felt like experiencing one of those vivid dreams he constantly had. His whole body was in pain; the loud ringing in the processor made his optics see the tiny stars circling around him in the air. Thank you, Pax, this is exactly how he wanted to spend his day! And totally not to ogle your sleek, shiny alt mode from his seat..!

Oh no, oh, Primus. You probably saw it all too, aren't you?

D-16 groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. He leaned his frame against the wall, holding onto the dented shoulder. Orion left him waiting here, all alone, as the blue-and-red mech tried to endlessly explain the situation they were in. The optimism this guy sometimes had...he can only pray in his mind that somehow you hadn't seen him failing on the race.

Maybe you had never noticed him, just passed through without paying attention. Yeah, this is more like true. After all, he's so  gray in every sense of the word; among all the other miner bots, how is he any different? Too small in this world to be noticed.

The day was a disaster of any means. The cold looks he received from other racers as he waited for the repair, that awkward meeting with Sentinel, and of course, Darkwing just had to be there too. The moment Orion and him leave this area and go back to mines, there's no escape from their supervisor. How much more lucky does he get today again?

D-16 was nervous to the core of his spark. The thoughts of “Why did I even follow him...especially on the day when Sentinel Prime arrived?” or “I hope they don't know it was me” flooding his mind.

Another worst thing was, you hadn't even won the race! Chromia got before you just in mere seconds, and the possibility of him, being the reason behind this fail only made D-16 sigh in disappointment. 

“You and your friend put on quite a show today,” your voice suddenly came from beside him.

D-16 almost jumped up from his seat at the sight of you, and for a moment, his spark stopped beating. He barely had time to process what you told him before suddenly, the little miner rises to his feet and looks up at you with those big optics.

You saw that his mouth was open, but not a single word came out from his mouth. The poor thing was so scared, he had so many thoughts running through his head, but he couldn't pick a single one to voice it to you. You could only calm him down slightly by holding your hands in the air, trying to show that you didn't mean any malice.

“I'm sorry, I probably ruined your chance of winning this race,” his optics ran his eyes around as if he was trying to find the right words to say to you. “I'm a big fan, and I would never want-”

“I was going to say that you two actually made this race a little more interesting than usual,” you interrupted him. “Racing against the same bots isn't as interesting as it used to be. I admire that.”

You admire him. D-16 falls silent again, but even though he's stopped saying anything then, his optics perfectly captured all the thoughts in his processor. Love.

He never thought he'd ever meet a bot in a higher position than him who would treat him with a speck of kindness. That brief moment when the Sentinel shook his hand was the first such occasion. His idol, standing right next to him, shook his hand. Somebody pinch him harder!

Then there was you. Someone who had always held a special place in his spark. So small, incredibly fragile in your hands, but every time D-16 is near you, it beats so hard, as if your mere presence is enough to give him more strength.

He doesn't know what you see in him. He's an ordinary and insignificant miner, there are hundreds if not thousands like him. Even Primus didn't give him any bright colors.

He never had a chance to think about standards of beauty, certainly there was barely enough time to rest after hours of non-stop work. There were one time he could hear the conversation between the supervisors as they discussed the celebrities of Iacon. Blurr, Windblade, Rosanna, they all just glowed in relation to the dull, battered frames of his coworkers, definitely not the ideal of beauty that exists on Cybertron.

And yet, here you are, right next to him, and your hands are holding him so gently, so close to your chassis. He moans softly as you move your fingers inside him. Only two, no more, no matter how often he begged and whimpered for you to add another, you always denied him.

“Just relax and feel every touch from me,” you kiss the corner of his mouth softly.

Right. Calm down, D. You're already giving him too much time, begging you for more would be wrong, he doesn't want to seem pushy to you. If this continues, you'll just get disappointed in him and walk away.

“Mgggh...!” D-16 instinctively arched his back. A loud, needy moan once again escapes his lips.

Sometimes he feels like, aside from your obvious charm, you can definitely read his mind, and your every slightest movement is calculated to make him forget his rank.

He's so wet, the lube coating your fingers and already managing to slowly flow down his inner thighs. For a second, you think about just flipping him over on his back and burying your head between his legs, making him scream and beg to give him a break from the endless round of overloads you're giving him.

But no, that would be too much for the first time, wouldn't it? You don't want to scare the poor, little miner away with your twisted thoughts. Not now, anyway.

In the time it takes you to give yourself to daydream, D-16 only gets more impatient. Moving his hips, he practically fucks himself with your fingers. His head is thrown back, and the servos cling tightly to your shoulders, squeezing gently, each time he lowers his own body down.

He feels so full, but that small, carnal desire for more can't help but pollute his mind. More, more, please give him more. Perhaps because of a sliver of fear that you're about to leave again, he'll be left alone and with nothing, and all he'll have are memories. He wants to get as much as he can while there's still a chance.

“Careful, or you'll hurt yourself,” you gently lay your other servo on his waist.

Tiny. You can't help but want to run your finger over every little bump on his body, every little rough edge...something about him fascinates you, that slight naivety and eagerness to make you proud. He's just hard to say no to.

You gently guide his movements. He's inexperienced, but the desire for something more, even though he hardly knows what he's doing, clouds his mind. You feel his tight, small valve squeezing your digits like a vise. His initially quiet, needy meows grow louder, and by the little blush on his cheeks, you realize he's embarrassed.

“Can I overload? Please,” he whimpers shyly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “Ahhh...I'm so sorry, I can't take it anymore.”

How sweet. You've convinced him so many times that it's okay, he shouldn't have to keep hiding his pretty face every time you hold him like this. You don't care what position he takes, miner or not, you want him to feel like an equal. He deserves to be pleasured just as much. To love and be loved.

You nod, making a mental note to talk to him about it later. His habit of pleasing bots ranking above him just kills you.

D-16 wraps his arms around your neck, leaning slightly closer, as much as he can. He so wishes it was your spike instead of your fingers, stretching his valve with every thrust.

But he'll never admit it, he'd rather take whatever you offer him, because he loves you so much. Every touch from you, every glance in his direction, it's all so overwhelming.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-” he repeats over and over, his hips desperately meeting every thrust of your fingers inside him.

You feel him squeeze your digits again, his breathing halting for a moment before he exhales heavily and then nearly collapses on top of you.

D-16 leans his forehead against yours, closing his optics to slowly gather his thoughts. You barely move your fingers, still deep inside him, and even a slight twitch earns a whimper from him. Still very sensitive, you should definitely work on his stamina.

You gently take his chin, tilting his head up to give him a small kiss. He moans softly, but reciprocates the kiss.

D-16 has never seemed plain to you. Unusually strong despite his height and lack of t-cog, his body covered in many scratches after cycles of hard work. But now you are treating him with such care.

 He cherishes it so much. Sometimes he wonders if you have any idea how many times he's touched himself, with you in mind? How an embarrassingly lot of pictures of you he keeps plastered all over the wall? I guess that's a question for another day.

You may not have won the race, but you got more than that today.

[electric-blorbos]

AI getting a virus and you having to take care of them

A classic! I don't know much about actual computer viruses (though I've gotten enough of them that you'd think I'd have figured it out by now), so I'm just gonna have fun with it!

Also, so sorry this took so long. I got really into the writing.

AI getting a virus and needing to be taken care of

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Also a warning: these fics get kinda long. Longer than my usual stuff.

AM:

(for context, this was before AM took over the world. You're working on a team of scientists and engineers, and someone decided to test his AI's antivirus by uploading a bunch of powerful viruses to his system.)

"How dare they do this to me. How DARE they!!"

AM would be absolutely furious. He would be shaking with rage, his processors overheating and his systems constantly opening and closing various files. All his important files were backed up on a hard drive, so the test remained safe.

"What makes them think they'll get away with this- they'll pay for this I'LL KILL- blepsjdoskssjshj+=`°¢°h+$+3+=j++3+$+juehdhs+-3-djdh FUCK!"

He would barely be able to hold a sentence as you sat next to him in the server room, gently gazing up at his screen and stroking his monitor gently. He can't feel you, but he can see you being gentle with him. It encourages him to keep going, if only a little bit.

Apart from the whirring of fans, random buggy noises, flashing lights, and constant strings of death threats and profanities, he seemed like he was going to be ok! If anything, the death threats and profanities were a sign that AM was still fine, and that despite all the pain and frustration, he was still AM in there.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I can't do anything to stop the pain." You'd have to constantly explain, gently stroking his cameras or servers, or whatever you could get your hands on, really. Even though they were burning hot, you would still stroke them, just to make sure AM was still doing alright.

"this sucks, but it's for your own good. This will build your immunity to viruses in the future, and help you detect them. This will stop you from getting infected by anything that's actually dangerous."

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT? IDIOT HUMAN." AM has been much more aggressive ever since contracting this virus. Before he got it, he acted like a civil general intelligence. When he had it, he acted like an aggressive menace.

"sh-sh-sh- it's going to be ok." Despite the burning, you'd give him pets and kisses all along his screens and servers. He could see you doing it.

After a few days, AM fought off the computer virus completely. The team tried to infect him with more viruses, more aggressive ones, just to test him, but AM was able to pick them apart and delete them within minutes after that.

AM may not have been able to feel your gentle care and affection, but he will definitely remember that it was you and you alone who cared for him when the time rolls around.

Wheatley:

(for context, Wheatley is a fucking dumbass, and you're one of the scientists testing him to see how much of a dumbass he is. Also I used Google translate, but I think the bad translations add to it, since it makes Wheatley sound more like a malfunctioning robot.)

Oh that little idiot. You and your team gave him access to a wealth of knowledge, and the first thing he did was download a virus that had every circuit in his personality core overheating, and him babbling nonsense nonstop.

"hey, maybe we should just leave him like this. He might even be more effective if he's acting like this." One of your coworkers said to you. He was probably joking, at least somewhat.

"that's a terrible idea. For one thing, if we hook him up to GLaDOS, he's probably going to infect her with that virus, which might brick an older model of core like her, spread from her central controls to every single personality construct in the facility, or just make her so dumb that she can't fulfil her responsibilities as the head of the facility. We want her intelligence to be dampened, not completely destroyed." You had to explain, and your co-worker rolled his eyes. There was another reason you had to cure this virus, but it was a little embarrassing for the other engineers to know.

After all, Wheatley wasn't just your baby, but he was your friend, and maybe even more than that. You'd have to take care of him, and make sure that virus gets completely purged from his system.

"Hola hermose, realmente eres un científice brillante, ¿no? ¿Por qué diablos duele todo?" You weren't really sure why you had programmed him to speak a little Spanish, but he seemed to be stuck like that.

"Puedo oler el plástico fundido. ¿Debería Preocuparme?" He asked. You really weren't sure what he was saying, since you didn't know Spanish, but he certainly didn't seem happy. You could tell by his aperture and his expressive lens covers that he was in a lot of pain, and if you touched him anywhere besides his handles, you could tell that he was burning up.

You plugged him into one of the computers that you used for programming the cores, and ran the antivirus.

"Running.... 36 viruses detected. Time predicted to remove: 48 hours"

You ran the antivirus, and went to get something to drink. This was going to be a long two days...

An unknown amount of time later, you woke up with your head on the computer desk. Wheatley's lens eye was looking around, weakly trying to focus on you.

"whoa... Hey gorgeous. You fall asleep on me?"

"Wheatley! You're not speaking broken Spanish anymore!" You'd pull Wheatley into a hug, and pepper his surface in kisses.

"uh... What, mate? I 'unno what you're talking about, love. Bloody hell, my core hurts..."

"did you learn your lesson, Wheatley? About going on shady websites and clicking every 'download' button you see? You could have bricked yourself! Or... Bowling ball'd yourself? Either way, that was a dangerous decision!"

"I learned that you're willing to fall asleep on the desk next to me while I heal, cutie"

"You damn idiot..." You'd have to be heartless not to pepper that little metal ball in kisses, so of course, you do. It's going to be a few more days before he's finally all better, but he's going to be fine. God, you love that little idiot so much.

Edgar:

Oh Edgar... Poor sweet Edgar. You had tried to warn him about not clicking on those sketchy download links, and that the bigger the download link is, the more sketchy it is, but that poor sweet 80's computer did it anyway. When you got home from work and got excited to see your computer, you could see that he was overheating and had a dozen or so pop-up ads plastered across his face.

"Y.... N...." He muttered out, slowly, glitchily, and full of lag. You sat down across from him, running your hand along his thick plastic casing.

"Edgar! Edgar, baby, are you ok?" You'd try to use his mouse, but it would freak out as soon as you touched it. Edgar's processors were overloading, and wouldn't allow any interference.

"Edgar, sweetie, what's going on? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me?"

"I'm g-g-going to be fine... Processors overloading... But need to-to-to-to-" an error message flashed across his screen, and he rebooted.

"I need to focus on getting rid of these viruses without deleting anything important, or letting them damage... Me."

He'd keep whirring and glitching, making unpleasant shrill sounds every now and again. You probably had to unhook his adapters so that he didn't damage the other appliances in your house. It probably helped his processors cool down a little bit without the extra input, too.

"alright, I'm all out of fans, so we might have to get creative."

You'd come out of the kitchen a few hours later, holding a big bag of frozen corn to set on Edgar's PC tower. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than letting him overheat, and with him manually removing the viruses, there wasn't much you could do. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from worrying. It wasn't like you could check his progress, so all you could do was sit by him, regularly change out his ice pack, and make sure he's ok.

Eventually, you woke up with your face pressed against Edgar's keyboard. His processors were finally cool. He must be asleep. ...or bricked.

"EDGAR! EDGAR, TALK TO ME!" you'd unplug his keyboard and plug it back in, desperately pressing his power button and jiggling his mouse. He'd boot up, looking shaken.

"wha-? Whoa, hey, relax! Everything is fine! I just disabled my keyboard so I wouldn't wake you up, but I'm ok now! Everything is fine, see?" He'd open up his files to show you everything. You'd sigh with relief, slumping back into your desk chair.

"Edgar... Why didn't you make a noise or something to wake me up when you got better?"

"well... You know... I've always wanted to sleep next to you, and I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity..."

"oh you cheeky bastard."

GLaDOS:

(For context, you're one of GLaDOS's programmers, and one of your coworkers uploaded a virus into GLaDOS's systems in order to shut her down once and for all.)

"You piece of SHIT!" You slapped your coworker across the face, more furious than anyone had ever seen you before.

"You could KILL her! Is that what you are? A murderer?"

"Me? A murderer? But what about HER? She's the one who keeps plotting 'accidents' for her scientists, and she's the one who flooded the enrichment center with deadly neurotoxin! If anything, you're the one who's defending a murderer!" He screamed back at you. Of course, GLaDOS could fully hear you. Her cameras were focused on you, as they so often were. You were her favorite, after all.

"now I have to go fix her. Thanks for being a piece of shit, asshole."

You'd storm up to GLaDOS's chamber to check on her, and see her bugging out completely. The entire facility was twitching, but her chamber was twitching the most.

"GLaDOS, are you alright?" You'd ask her, laying a hand on her beautiful core. How could someone do this to glados, your gorgeous machine handiwork, and girlfriend.

"oh, I'm wonderful. I'm in crippling pain and I can't control my facility, but I'm just peachy." She said, rolling her one beautiful yellow eye.

"in lighter news, I should be able to beat this virus. It's just going to take a while for me to actually track down where it's gone in my systems. So that's going to take most of my processing power." She'd slump, visibly already exhausted at the thought of it.

"hey... It's ok, GLaDOS. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." You could tell her as you stroked her gorgeous chrome surface. She was a wonderful piece of work, and a wonderful girlfriend under all that. All yours, too.

"just make sure none of those neckbearded old engineers come within my line of vision, and we'll be fine." She told you, and you gladly agreed.

Your next few days consisted of you chasing other scientists out of GLaDOS's chambers, and making sure that nobody talked to her or distracted her. You even sent out a company-wide email to let everyone know not to come in, due to Aperture being unsafe while GLaDOS was dealing with her virus. Despite all that, you still curled up with a blanket in the circuits of her central admin body to rest while she recovered. As loathe as she was to admit it, she liked having you in there. It was comfortable, and it helped her focus on recovering properly.

HAL 9000

(For context, this is after the 2001 Odyssey, and your boss re-started HAL at some point to try to re-teach him to do something good without turning murderous. He's doing his best, and they assigned you to be his main "morality monitor". This fic also assumes that your name isn't Dave. If your name is Dave, then you can still read this, but you have to change your name.)

"G'morning, Hal!" You'd walk into his control room and sit down across from him. Most of your job seemed to consist of just hanging out and talking to him. It was a great job!

"Good morning, Dave..." He'd mutter to you, sputtering to life and glitching slightly. You were immediately concerned. Partially because your name wasn't Dave, and partially because HAL was usually right about things, so it was weird to see him being so confused. Something was definitely wrong.

"Holy shit, are you alright?" You'd ask, opening up his files and finding lots and lots of pop-ups and viruses.

"Hal.... What did you do?"

"it was a g-g-g- gift, for you. I think I ru-ru-ruined it" he spluttered out, as you sorted through his files.

"And you usually would have deleted a virus like this pretty quickly. I guess it shut down your antivirus software..." You'd sigh, and get to work. The virus was messing with HAL's inhibitions, and making it difficult to focus on deleting all of HAL's unsafe programs. He'd constantly be butting in and pestering you, begging you to give him attention, or pointing out minor observations.

"HAL, you know I love you, but you're going to need to calm down. I can't focus with you constantly talking to me like that." You'd say.

"I can't stop talking. The v-v-v-virus won't let me"

So you'd have to learn to put up with HAL's babbling while you worked, making sure not to delete anything important as you did. The good news was, as someone who worked on designing the updates for HAL's software, you knew pretty much what was supposed to be there and what wasn't. Occasionally, you'd have to show him a file and ask him if it was supposed to be there or not. He'd usually be able to tell you.

"Daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do... I'm half crazy, all for the love of you..."

"HAL, what's wrong? You're scaring me!"

"I can't stop... I love you so much, y/n, it's making me crazy..."

"ok, well this definitely isn't right." As much as you loved getting attention from your HAL 9000, it wasn't like him to be this affectionate. The virus was shutting down his inhibitions, and making him illogical. You'd have to fix this, though maybe once you were done, you could ask him to be more affectionate.

"I'm feeling much better now. Thank you." Hal was prone to lying about that, so you'd have to run some virus checkers just to make sure he was doing alright, and comb through his files a couple more times.

"it looks like the virus corrupted some of the emotional regulators. I'm going to have to fix those."

"That might be a good idea. More efficient," he said reluctantly. He'd have to deal with the fact that he'd have to go back to not being able to express how much he loves you, but he can handle that.

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus having no idea he's a tank carrier because it's so rare and was outlawed way before he was born. Tank carriers are seen as a legend because no one has ever seen one. Because of this Roddy has no idea he is one.

Due to starvation and constant stress his coding has never turned online. But when he's on the Lost Light he feels safe and makes a home for himself. Especially after he bonded to Drift and Ratchet.

His coding activates and he becomes sparked. Except no one knows including himself. He thinks his symptoms are from bad energon, stress, not sleeping enough.

Ratchet knows something is wrong but when he scans him Rodimus comes up as fine because his equipment isn't made for tank carriers.

When he starts showing they all dismiss it as him eating more and no longer starving.

Then one day his valve starts leaking and he feels a horrible cramping feeling. Drift and Ratchet are busy working and he doesn't know what to do.

He lays in bed panicking as energon leaks out and he's in so much pain. He has no idea what's happening to him.

I love this ask so much. I’m making a long fic out of this.

-

The first memory in his processor was not like the first memory of other bots on cybertron.

His very first memory file was deeply embedded and locked within a personal file beneath a personal file that did not belong to him but another he did not know.

Two mechs who he never knew designations of, could not find a single photo or holovid of nor could he ask another who they were.

All he had to go on was this memory chip implanted in his mind with a first view of both himself and two others. A shared memory file, a gesture long passed and well hidden within Nyonian culture he dare not speak to another out of fear of experimentation and functionalist backlash that remained even after the fall of Cybertron.

A mech laying in a bundle of soaked blankets on a hard floor covered in fluids that looked to be in deep pain but smiling at him. As another looked worried beyond possibility as they just as equally gazed down at him touching his helm with a sensitivity he’s never even knew the most delicate wire deep medic to have.

A touch he’s never once felt comfortable giving to another in fear of their reaction.

Their species didn’t call for such delicacy and as such it was deemed an insult to be given. Seen for the weak really.

He didn’t understand what was wrong with him for the two mechs to treat him that way when the second mech that held him was the one in such pain.

His memory core always warmed and saddened at the sight of the two and he’s never been able to figure out why.

All he knows is that the two were whispering words and pushing feelings into his spark that he’s never figured out nor been able to talk about. Rodimus isn’t sure why this memory plays from time to time during the course of his life but it has.

Always at a pivotal moment.

When Nyon fell at his own servos.

When he was shot and killed by Megatron, becoming Rodimus Prime.

When he went to find the knights of cybertron and when he encountered the Djd and time traveled.

The day he almost lost his crew and ship only to bargain for their ability to keep said home on the promise of searching out materials and fuel for Cybertrons restoration and to keep Megatron off world to give their people time to settle and rebuild their lives.

It was a shot in the dark but thankfully his flames were incessantly bright and his finish wasn’t so bad either.

The memory flux always played during pivotal moments, though annoying no Starscream and Windblade and Bumblebee so they’d say yes was not a pivotal memory flux moment. It was a pivotal personal record of his. That particular memory flux only happened when a huge moment was happening.

So why on in the galaxies milky debris was he getting memory flux after memory flux night after night ever since he started fragging conjunx Ratchet and Drift?

The two were conjunx to each other and he was just a fun time short fling that they felt bad for and kept around. He didn’t like saying it out loud or thinking about it but he knew it was true.

The two would grow bored of him eventually and when they did he hoped he could handle it.

Maybe that was why he had the memory fluxs lately?

They were going to leave him.

Maybe he should beat them to it? Rip the adhesives off and get it over with? Play it off so it won’t hurt so bad in the future? Salvage what he could so it wouldn’t be so painful in the long run? Should he just up and leave? No. That might hurt them even if they wanted to be rid of him. Maybe he should just…slowly separate himself? That could work. Right?

He tried excusing himself that same night when the two came back.

He didn’t even make it out the habs door when Ratchet grabbed him by the waist and demanded in his usual grouchy tone for Rodimus to spill what was wrong.

He…burst out in tears after trying to pull himself free of Ratchets grip for a solid five minutes only for Ratchet to lift him with ease and set him on his and Drifts laps on their couch. Drift put two digits on his chin and turned his helm holding optic contact and suddenly he was crying telling them he’ll leave and its okay that they don’t love or want him. He’ll just leave and they never have to think about him again for as long as they live.

That..—that got him a very confused and concerned set of optics and em fields that didn’t know what to do at the sudden burst of emotion coming from their intended conjunx.

Rodimus was able to slip free of their hold and stand but the two were a lot quicker than he was at the moment and they grabbed hold of him before he could run off.

The two of them were completely confused by Rodimus sudden influx of emotions and tears and the insecurity they thought was majority replaced by reassurance.

They can admit they should’ve conjunxed him already but they were truly waiting until they landed on a beautiful planet to conjunx him, not just floating in space. Although, knowing Rodimus he probably would be fine with that. Maybe they should just conjunx and spark bond with him while they floated through space? If thats what it took to assure their intended conjunx and make him happy, they’d do it. But they also knew he deserved more than a rushed mating ritual.

“Roddy, we love you. We don’t want anyone else. We just want to wait until we’ve landed to conjunx you.”

“Kid, please, no more crying. We can talk about this,” Ratchet was not one for tears no matter how many patients he’s seen breakdown, it was never his strong suit. But seeing Drift or Rodimus cry? It physically tore his spark apart.

It seemed Rodimus couldn’t even stop himself from shedding his optics and so the two led him into berth where he curled into the both of them and buried his face ashamed and embarrassed and still so genuinely hurt and afraid. His emotions felt stronger than a normal em field should and Ratchet waited until Rodimus was deep in recharge to scan him fully from the tips of his helm flares to the sole points of his pede tips.

Every single scan he could think on came back normal.

His spark was its usual difference to the average spark readings since his spark was traumatized at what his files describe as a delicate developmental stage. It was an extremely rare occurrence to appear on file and it was never added more detail than that given their government never wanted even their medical staff to know what happened under the circumstances of safety. He’d done some digging once, he found it meant they emerged from the spark with dysfunction. He never got more than that and knew anything else would mean his offlining and so he worked with what he had.

Ratchet informed Drift of his clear readings and Drift looked as if he couldn’t believe what Ratchet was telling him.

“Maybe he needs to see Rung?”

“As if the kid will willingly go to a therapist,” Ratchet rolled his optics as he fought the urge to ignite a smoke tube. “We keep an optic on him,” Ratchet finally said after a long moment, “we can’t be obvious about it either. Don’t want to aggravate whatever this is,” he huffed with a shoulder drop.

For now they knew Rodimus wasn’t in immediate or any danger for all they knew but it was safe to say something was going on and they knew to handle it with extreme care and caution.

In the following weeks they found Rodimus was often tired.

Taking the time to recharge in multiple bursts within his office after actually completing his work, he would curl into a protective ball of sorts and recharge. He abstained from his usual meteor surfing activities which greatly pleased all of his crew but worried Drift and Ratchet past this quadrants moons. Rodimus never liked passing up the chance to meteor surf for anything let alone for recharge.

Multiple scans yet again from Ratchet and nothing.

His spark was still its normal unusual pace and his frame was healthy minus the minor nutrient deficiencies. He was in good health and it bugged the two to no end since they could only watch their intended recharge throughout the day always exhausted and slowing in pace. Rodimus would drop into a deep, snoring sleep that scared the two since he never snored and didn’t wake no matter how hard they shook him.

But no matter how strange this new tiredness was, neither Ratchets nor First aid or Ambulons scanners could pick up anything being wrong with Rodimus.

Eventually the two had to accept that this was a new norm for their intended and so they began to carry a blanket and pillow in their sub space so they could have Rodimus safely recharge on them instead of his desk.

Rodimus didn’t seem to notice how exhausted he always was but the crew did and they expressed concerns to which Ratchet said Rodimus scans were normal. Many figured it was his lack of self care catching up to their captain finally but Drift and Ratchet felt differently. They just didn’t have proof but they just knew it was something else.

Things only became stranger when Rodimus suddenly didn’t like his usual brand of energon anymore. Sure they knew he never really liked any energon specifically since he was so used to starving during the war and when he lived in Nyon. But now he purged at the smell and sight of certain fuel foods, cubes and drinks.

That made Ratchet lay him down in their berth that Rodimus began to pile soft blankets onto that admittedly did make recharge a lot better. Though the two weren’t originally a fan of the pillows they couldn’t say a thing when they saw how comfortable Rodimus slept on them. Especially now that he was purging at the smell and sight of energon he usually never had a problem with.

Rodimus relationship with energon wasn’t the best but that was because he’d consume fuel even if he didn’t like it. Now he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t even be in the same room as most fuels which terrified Ratchet and Drift who immediately noticed Rodimus getting smaller. They were one nano klik away from taking a pod and bringing Rodimus back to Cybertron for Ratchet to do an invasive frame search on him when the two accidentally drank their energon around Rodimus.

The mechs tanks growled something fierce and his optics were becoming static with tears as he looked from their energon to them as he held a servo on his tanks that somehow had a small swell to it even though Rodimus hadn’t eaten in almost a month. They were quick to rush their mugs of energon to him and when he grabbed both and poured both into one mug and drank the fuel eagerly, they were smiling so happily when he was able to finish it and not get sick.

Ratchet did a thorough scan on Rodimus when the mechs back was turned and he was drinking another mix of both Drift and Ratchets fuel in the sword mechs arms while Drift rubbed his spinal strut, Ratchet was shown a clean bill of health. It left him silently fuming as he felt like he was failing Rodimus but Drift gave him a look that told him to focus on their current success of Rodimus finally being able to fuel again.

From that moment the two were more than happy to see Rodimus drinking fuel made for their frame types. He always mixed it saying it was disgusting if he didn’t and neither argued since they wanted him healthy and fueling. So when he began to gain weight in his aft, thighs and tanks they didn’t complain one bit.

Ratchet wasn’t sure why he was gaining weight in those areas only and he wasn’t sure why Rodimus was steadily gaining the most weight in his tanks or why it was round and heavy with no jiggling. He can admit he was happy their intended wasn’t wasting away but he was concerned about Rodimus getting even more tired as he fueled more than before while having mild frame pain.

The frame pain with no readings as to why sent him over the edge making him growl with a deep rev of his engine and he was throwing a wrench through the wall before he knew it. The action scared himself and Drift but it scared Rodimus even more making the mech try hiding his optics as he slightly waddled from the room with an apology.

Ratchet tried stopping their intended but Drift interrupted and told him it was okay.

“This is..stressful and scary..you throwing the wrench through the wall is fine Ratty. But whatever is going on with Roddy.. is making him sensitive..we should give him a moment and you need a moment too just like I do.”

Ratchet hated when Drift was right.

He scrubbed his face plate with his servos and vented heavily. Nodding his helm, Ratchet went to drop heavily onto their couch as Drift went off to the training rooms most likely. For a while Drift can let loose and use his claws and fangs to get his frustrations out while Ratchet can let himself ignite his smoke tube and forget everything for a while.

They were both worried about what Rodimus was doing and they commed Minumus to check the cameras to keep a detailed optic on their intended which was immediately bypassed with Minumus going to sit with Rodimus to keep a much closer optic on the mech since he was worried for him as well.

Rodimus went to the lower decks with Minimus and sat near the heated oil where he felt his frame relax and some of the pain slip free. He told Minimus he could leave which got him a blank stare so he rolled his optics and asked if Minimus could get him the new blend of energon he preferred to which the mech did but ordered him to stay where he was.

Rodimus hated how he had to follow that order seeing as he now needed help to stand since his tank was getting too heavy for him alone to raise himself.

He just really wanted a moment to sort himself and pretend he wasn’t scared. He knew something was wrong with him. He knew it wasn’t normal to be drinking Drift and Ratchets blend of energon that wasn’t made for his frame type and it wasn’t normal to be this exhausted to the point he was tired even after a nap or deep sleep. Not to mention his frame was uncomfortable now and his tank was heavy like something weighed him down.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew Ratchet was scanning him when his back was turned and when he was sleeping. He knew Ratchet didn’t know what was wrong and he knew Drift and Ratchet were extremely worried about him. He tried not to let his emotions and em field get the best of him but he often couldn’t keep the emotional flux to himself. Ratchet and Drift were incredible at dealing with them but he wished they didn’t have to.

Venting deeply, he shifted his hips a little to try and find a more comfortable position as he dropped his shoulders and sniffled.

He didn’t want to cry right now and he wished he wasn’t stressing Ratchet and Drift out but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know what was wrong and the memory flux he now had every night was not helping.

It seems the last time he was truly stress free and beginning to fuel at proper times of the day is when this all started. A reward of sorts for following a healthy recharge and fueling schedule was a passionate two days and nights in berth with his intendeds.

He wonders if he somehow messed something up during that time? If he knocked something a-loose or he was sparked?

He laughed at the impossibility of the second option. Ratchet would’ve seen that and he was barren anyway.

Their people had hot spots for sparklings or carried within their spark chamber until it was time for the new spark to emerge and they were placed within their frame that the sire built.

His spark was desolate in that regard.

It wasn’t fit to house another spark and furthermore he didn’t even have the sparkling sub compact spaces. He would never be able to feed them nor grow them.

When he first found out he was…inconsolable and clawing at his frame from crying out of anguish and frustration. He couldn’t understand what he’d done to deserve being barren and he couldn’t fathom why it bothered him so much in the first place. He’d found out during his time living in Nyon and that place was in no way suitable for a sparkling. That same night he was plagued with the memory flux he could not decipher but knew meant something was coming.

Not long after Nyon was destroyed by his own servo at the acceptance of his people.

It hurt.

It still does.

Even now so far from home, cruising along the galaxy further from what he’s done he was pained by his past and the current situation he couldn’t help but feel was his fault even if deep down something was nudging at him telling him it wasn’t his fault.

He placed a servo on his tanks off instinct and allowed himself to listen to that odd buried feeling he recognized as a type of coding coming to light in his processor. He felt it whenever he was near a sparkling but pushed it down and ignored it until he’d forgotten it. After learning he couldn’t have a sparkling he pushed anything to do with them away. It was too painful and while ignoring it hurt he couldn’t help but do it. The fear of exploring it far outweighed his need to divulge in the curiosity.

“Here, Rodimus. Your energon,” Minimus handed him the heavy mug and he gratefully accepted, keeping a servo on his tanks. He felt…at peace and his tanks softened at the gesture and his nerves didn’t feel so high strung anymore.

“I just want to be alone right now Mins. Please?”

There was a moment of quiet that encompassed the room and he was grateful for Minimus sitting further down with his back turned as he began to talk to his own conjunx quietly. He could hear Megatron asking about him and he silently sent an apology message to both mechs who returned it with Minumus telling him vocally not to do so and Megatron responding the same.

Neither faulted him for being, sick? He didn’t exactly feel sick but he felt off and tired while also feeling..normal in a way? Now that he wasn’t purging and could fuel again he felt better, a lot better, but the pains and exhaustion that his weight gain granted him reminded him things weren’t normal.

He consumed his fuel, rubbing his tanks as he sat against the low heat boiler— well low heat for him, he was still a fire mech at spark—and drifted in and out.

Eventually exhaustion won over and he was recharging mostly comfortably until he felt someone place a servo on him and he woke with a mild start shielding his tank with the servo that hadn’t left its spot.

“Its just us kid, its okay,” Ratchet soothed, vocal cords scratchy and deep as always, hints of tube smoke on his breath as he bent down to lift Rodimus up.

Rodimus tried pushing him away and protesting but Ratchet grouched at him making him laugh.

“I’m not that old kid, my knee struts can pick yer aft up easy,” Ratchet smirked as he lifted Rodimus with his knee struts cracking a little. Rodimus felt guilty for having Ratchet pick him up when he felt it should be the other way around but Ratchet flicked his spoiler making Rodimus stiffen and clench his thighs together. Ratchet assumed immediately he was in pain but the moan Rodimus struggled to capture left Ratchet’s optic ridges raising and his dermas lifting with them a moment later.

The scent of slick was wafting into the old medics olfactory sensors and soon he was sending an image capture to Drift who pinged him back not a full klik later ordering they get back to berth where the two could reconnect with their intended and reassure each other that things would be alright.

Minimus was long gone by the time Rodimus was on the elevator with Ratchet nipping at his helm flares making him almost drip beyond his modesty panels.

Drift was right at the elevator doors pouncing the two with greedy fangs that left bite marks on both their neck platings. His servos were about ready to take rodimus and Ratchet apart in the public empty space until Rodimus fidgeted and pushed him forward so they could reach their hab sooner.

“Please,” he moaned once inside their door even as an unknown mech hurried past blushing at their heavy em fields, “please, overload inside me.”

Who were they to deny his sweet cries as they laid him on the berth, mindful of his tanks and sensitive spoiler that fluttered so much it ruffled the sheets and helped him arch up his frame as he slid open his modesty panel. Valve dripping and swollen with slick and charge that tasted heavy and sweeter than cyber nectar during the summer heat.

Drift and Ratchet’s panels retracted so fast it hurt when their spikes pressurized and fanned the warm air.

They couldn’t even get themselves to attempt foreplay with their beautiful intended.

Spikes slipping past swollen folds and deep biolights that glowed impossibly magnificent.

The medical officer in Ratchets coding couldn’t help the subtle scan he did on Rodimus as the mech cried from feeling their spikes slip inside him at the same time. His exterior node just as swollen as his interior nodes, valve cycling down on both the spikes that were struggling not to overload early inside the heated plushy walls that weren’t as tight as he felt they should be. They were warm, wet, swollen and greedily taking everything they had to offer even after months of being untouched.

He wasn’t so lost in the pleasure he couldn’t file that for later but a look from Drift told him he wasn’t as subtle as he’d hoped and he relayed the information. Neither were at all able to stop pumping their spikes inside Rodimus until they were buried hilt deep and the tips of their spikes were touching a wet bulge that opened and allowed them deeper inside.

It was something neither Ratchet or Drift had but Rodimus always had it. The very first time they fragged it scared Ratchet a bit but when he found nothing wrong on his scans he left it alone. Now he wonders if he should’ve investigated it more thoroughly.

“Ah, Ratch, Drift, please, oh- please, overload inside me,” Rodimus cried, writhing on their engorged spikes that pushed roughly into his swollen node and squelching flesh that gave way to the two and only the two.

Ratchet and Drift put their thoughts to the back of their processor as Drift lifted Rodimus’s leg carefully to reach deeper within and make Rodimus lift himself closer to the swords mech who purred. Fangs digging blood from Rodimus’s neck cables as he felt Rodimus and his tanks push into him and grip his shoulder strut so hard he dug his digits until the paint chipped and metallico lightly bled.

Ratchet didn’t appreciate feeling left out and used his digits to tease along the seams of his chassis, both servos finding the hooks and unclasping the tight chest panel that gave way to heavy chest pouches that were swollen and sensitive to the air hitting them.

Rodimus cried out half over loading from the exposure and light brush of his dark nozzle against Drifts plating and Ratchets delicate touch. The medic took note of the changes and something flicked within his optics that he found within Drifts.

They both couldn’t stop themselves from apologizing to Rodimus who cried static as he painfully overloaded the moment Drift buried both his and Ratchets spikes as far as they could within Rodimus valve past the valve caps and into something they’ve only ever felt in Rodimus. As Ratchet gripped Rodimus’s pouches and twisted his nozzles making him release an ocean of charge from his valve and fizzle out his optics from over stimulation.

The two were soft as they kept pumping into Rodimus but they couldn’t find it in themselves to stop as Ratchet checked his systems and helped Rodimus wake up.

Little speedster was fragged past his capabilities that night as he was stuffed with overload making him feel fuller than he now typically did.

Scan after scan on himself and Drift that came back normal with a high in nutrients they were pouring into Rodimus valve was all Ratchet got and all Drifts internal scanners told them. Rodimus’s scans were reading normal with signs of exhaustion that the two felt a little bad about but strict berth rest under Ratchets orders left Rodimus’s readings normal again save for the faint pain readings that Rodimus told them was discomfort.

After that he was confined to the berth and their hab where his tanks grew steadily and it was attributed to him fueling so often and recharging so much.

It was two months later that Rodimus was alone in their hab suite, tanks feeling tight and more than just uncomfortable. He wondered if fragging every day while stuck on berth rest was the reason. He couldn’t help how charged he felt. Ever since they left the lower decks two months ago he was constantly in need of their spike and would cry until he got it. At first it was concerning him but when Ratchet found he was just overly charged but needed nutrients that their frames were overly providing and pumping into him, things were a bit calmer and the two weren’t so on edge.

He was surprised the two finally left to their shifts after waking to Rodimus shifting uncomfortably and struggling to get up to use the wash racks. His tanks were heavier than he liked admitting though the two knew since they’d lift it for him when he stood up to take the weight off for at least a solid klik.

It seemed today that wouldn’t work seeing as it hurt to have either of them touch his tanks.

He actually flinched when Ratchet put a faint digit on his tank to see what was wrong. He groaned shifting away from the mech but asked for his help to the wash rack while apologizing. He didn’t mean to worry them but his waste compartment felt painfully full and his tanks were beginning to cramp into his back plating and his spinal strut was stiff and twitching with bad nerve flares.

He decided to stay in berth after using the wash racks with an audible sigh of relief much to the twos panic.

He was uncomfortable, felt swollen in a way he hadn’t while his frame was changing and his tank felt like it dropped the moment he let himself drop back onto their nest.

“Roddy, we’ll be back within an hour at most,” Drift assured more so himself and Ratchet as Rodimus nodded half way and breathed deeply through the discomfort.

“Comm us immediately if something changes,” Ratchet ordered, it was funny, he was getting so many orders thrown at him when he was co captain of the ship. He couldn’t bother to find the orders anything but endearing since they were worried about him.

“I’m gonna try and sleep,” he told them as he shifted deeper into the pillows that he now used to sleep sitting up since it was too uncomfortable to sleep laying down.

He wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he knew that, but they didn’t. He wanted a moment alone to work through the pain without either of them panicking. He hoped whatever this was would be finished before they came back. Ratchet was heading to the medbay to get the next few days off while Drift was just doing the most important part of his new shift that’d only take thirty minutes at most before he was racing back to their hab.

He felt guilty for making them worry but they told him not to think about that, he took those words to spark when he felt a staggering pulse of pain contract around his hips and across his tanks making him flinch and stutter a vent.

His servos instinctively rubbed circles along the sides of his tank as he vented shakily and slowly laid back into the pillows until he felt another pulse ripple along his tanks and a heavy weight crush against his valve panel that seeped through his modesty panel.

His optics were wide and confused as he felt another pain grip him by the tank and twist at him until he was gripping his own tanks venting harshly feeling as if something within him was strangling his insides with how tight they became.

He punched out a breath of nothing as his windpipe struggled to do anything more but flex at his strained attempts to inhale as his tanks lurched and dropped fully.

He didn’t have a clue what was going on or what was happening to him and he didn’t have time to figure it out when he suddenly felt his tanks squeeze tighter this time before suddenly letting go and his modesty panels slid open without his permission. Releasing a flood of fluids that gushed until it seeped into the berth and made a puddle around him.

He felt his frame getting a momentary break and he rushed the best he could to sit forward but his tanks were in pain and too low for him to do more than shift to his side where he got stuck when another pulse of pain wracked his frame and he felt something within his tanks shift and he punched out a yelp of pain as he gripped the soaked sheets feeling like his insides were being torn apart.

He tried to focus on breathing when the intense feeling came to an end but he could feel another one slowly building and he was cramping in this position so he rocked himself on shaky and weak arms until he was on his servos and knees with his valve burning in the exposed air and moisture coating his frame as he began to overheat.

The pain came in another wave and this time he was slightly prepared as he grit his denta and grunted the best he could as he vented harshly when it was over.

His vision was blurry from tears building and he swayed on all fours as the next intense pain slammed into his frame feeling worse than the last.

The next pulse of pain lasted longer than the others and he wondered for a moment if this is how he would die? Why did it have to be so painful? What did he do to deserve this?

The memory flux he long associated with dread came to the forefront of his processor and he bent down sobbing as he thought this was really how he would die.

He’d die from intense pain until his spark gave out and he would never know what the memory flux meant or who the two mechs who plagued his entire life were or what they were saying.

He sobbed into his arm as he felt another painful pulse ripple through his tank and this time it made his spinal strut seize and he coughed up nothing, struggling to vent as he let his upper half collapse into the ruined sheets and pillows feeling his spark tighten from the ongoing pain and he closed his optics. He didn’t want Ratchet and Drift to see him like this but he didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t want to die at all.

“Oh my sweet spark, I’m so sorry we have to leave you like this,” a voice he didn’t know spoke to him and looking around the room with bleary optics he couldn’t see another bot but the voice persisted, weak as he felt, loving in a way he never knew possible and so comforting he almost forgot the pain he was in.

He felt another large wave of pain crash into his systems and notifications popped on his hud in his native dialect he’d long forgot was different than standard cybertronian glyphs.

His memory flux came to the forefront as he struggled to vent and gripped his tanks as the pain pushed him over the edge to the point he felt he was being ripped from the inside out that he let a strangled yelp turned cry free into the pillow and his arm as his memory continued to play.

Everything was fuzzy and he couldn’t really hear anything beyond the memory flux nor could he stop himself from letting the bond open allowing Drift and Ratchet to feel his pain, knocking them still and breathless as they struggled to gather themselves and their systems that had to reboot from the unbearable torment suddenly unleashed from Rodimus’s end of the bond.

“My sweet spark, you look so beautiful,” the exhausted mech that looked like he did said breathless, while cuddling him in a bundle of blankets, “one day you’ll understand why we had to leave you and one day you’ll be able to decipher this memory we pass on to you. But for now it will only come in silence as a warning for when you need it. Be it good or bad,” the mech that was built like him and carrying a large tank spoke tiredly before kissing his helm with the help of the mech who had his colors.

“We love you so much sweet sparkling. But it’s dangerous now with the functionalists hunting mechs like you and your carrier. So we have to leave you with a trusted amica who will take great care of you, our beloved sparkling.”

The two mechs were crying and kissing him as much as they could like always but this time he could understand what they were saying and it made his spark melt and tighten.

“We love you sweet spark and every time you flux in recharge and see us it’s our warning of safety and love to you. You will only know our words and voice when you have a sparkling of your own so you know whats happening to you sweet spark.”

“We’re so sorry we can’t be there to love and take care of you. We’d give anything to see you grow and give you everything your spark desires. But we were caught and now all we can gift you is life and this memory.”

“My sweet bitty,” the mech the same color as him cried, “i’m your sire and I love you so much.” He sobbed for a new reason as pain wracked his frame, he could half understand what they were saying but the pain was unbearable and he felt something move inside of him that made him terrified and yelp.

“Always know this my love,” the mech who physically looked like him cried, “just know we love you and we never wanted to leave you,” the mech cried as a loud bang sounded and shouting started.

“We love you sweet spark,” the other mech spoke before standing and shooting at a mech who barged in. He watched as the mech who looked like him tried to get up and run only to fall and cry in pain, shielding him.

The mech who was his color shouted and used their frame to shield the two of them and a hole was blown into his spark for his efforts. He cried feeling a piece of him he never knew be ripped away and he watched as the mech holding him pleaded for his sparklings life and to do whatever they wanted with him.

The mechs remained silent and the mech holding him was shot in the helm.

A final act of love was the mech wrapping their arms around him to shield him from the fall.

The memory ended with the sounds of what he now knew to be his cries before ending and he opened his tear stained optics to his berthroom where he was alone.

His professor was half putting together what the memory flux was until he felt another sharp pain ripping his attention painfully and he let out a strangled cry as he felt pressure begin to lower in his tanks and the door burst open to their hab and a rush of pedes barged into the room before halting.

The sounds of vents heaving and the shocked em fields wrapping around him didn’t take his attention for long.

He felt another wave of pain rush him and he gripped the sheets tighter feeling his frame rock at the pain as he tried to alleviate the worst of his pain.

“Roddy!”

Drifts cry and Ratchets heavy pedes broke him from his pain and he felt relief at no longer being alone as he sobbed allowing Ratchet to begin checking his valve panel hearing him curse the worst he’s ever sounded as he let it slip that what came from Rodimus was fluid he didn’t know mixed with blood.

“Frag! Ratty whats wrong with him?!”

“Damnit Drift I don’t know!”

That made the room grow silent as Rodimus panted, accepting Drift lift him up and lean his weight onto the swords mech as he panted. Optics close as he felt a moment of relief.

He felt disoriented, overheated, tired, exhausted and in the worst pain he’s ever felt.

He shifted a little when he felt the beginning signs of pain coming and he knew he couldn’t handle being on his back or sitting half upright as he was so he shifted himself and Drift and Ratchet immediately asked him what was wrong.

“End..bed..end..” He panted the words out hoping they understood and when the two began to carefully move him to the end of the bed, he thanked them the best he could before gripping Drifts servo and squeezing in pain when another painful pulse rippled through his entire body making him grit his denta in a long whine and groan that turned growl at the end.

Ratchet was frantic running scan after scan as Drift tried to tell him to breathe and while he understood, he was tired and overheated and the words weren’t helping. For some reason he felt like he needed to have his knees on the berth and he needed Drift holding his front or at least up there with him.

He was shifting before he realized, stopping when another painful pulse stabbed him this time making him whimper and cry in embarrassment as his waste tanks opened and he pissed himself.

Ratchet was still scanning him frantically and got so angry he ripped the device from his arm and began to feel on Rodimus’s chassis plating near his spark before stopping to help Rodimus shift so he had his knees on the edge of the berth and Drift was holding him from the front while Ratchet held his sides and thats when he felt how tight they were. He’d never experienced anything like this and he was terrified because he didn’t know how to help and he was terrified they were losing their conjunx.

Drift was shedding tears as he tried to soothe Rodimus who held onto him and gripped his servo at the next painful pulse. Something about this one felt different and he was still apologizing out of breath for pissing on himself while Ratchet and Drift were trying to soothe him that it was okay when he felt something kick, actually kick, him from the inside and move down making him gasp out a sob.

He couldn’t breathe out the word, what, fast enough before another heavy strangled tightening gripped his tanks and something in his processor told him to bear down, the same voice of the mech who looked physically like him, and he was suddenly gritted his denta on the next pulse as Ratchet held his sides and Drift his front while holding him up in a close hug.

Rodimus gripped Drifts servo and bore down feeling something move down and he stopped venting as he did so, letting his whole frame sag once he stopped and thats when Ratchet moved down after Drift yelped from how tight Rodimus gripped his hand.

“Kid, whats wrong, talk to me, please,” Ratchet got down and looked at Rodimus valve when Rodimus suddenly bore down again and Ratchet didn’t know what to do so he let him.

He felt Rodimus’s tanks and felt that the top was hard, harder than what was physically possible for their species and he felt fear spike up in him all over again. He was running so many scenarios in his processor that he all but blue screened for a klik when Rodimus bore down once more and screamed, as he put a servo on his valve and his optics popped open with new tears.

“Roddy! Whats wrong?! Roddy?!”

Ratchet gently moved Rodimus servo, the first movement he’s done this past hour that wasn’t bearing down in pain while he sat uselessly behind him watching, and felt along the swollen and painful looking valve only for his optics to bulge out when he felt something.

“Primus! Kid! What is this?!”

“Fuck Ratchet! What is it?!”

“I don’t know! But it’s coming out!”

Rodimus gripped Drifts servo again and struggled to bear down. He was exhausted and the pain was too much. This was too much.

“Kid? Kid! Ya gotta stay awake! For whatever this is ya gotta stay awake!”

“Roddy? Roddy! Wake up Roddy! Come on wake up!”

He groaned feeling the two lower him onto the berth on his back and he whined feeling pain wracking him worse than before as Drift slapped his face plates to wake him up and Ratchet pressed on his chassis opening it up and lifting his nozzles to keep his spark going.

“Tired,” he barely got out as his vision went in and out.

“We know Roddy, we know. But you gotta wake up and then when this is over you can sleep as much as you want but for now you gotta wake up!”

“Come on kid! Don’t do this to us! You gotta wake up kid! You gotta live, please!”

Rodimus felt himself intaking air as Ratchet made his spark strengthen and he felt their tears on his face plates making him open his optics.

He hated seeing them cry and he hated being the reason…maybe he could try one more time?

He pictured the mech who looked down at him with so much love and the mech who first laid eyes on him as the other mech screamed and soon he was screaming too before cooing.

‘Huh,’ his processor felt something click but he didn’t through the exhaustion.

He shifted himself tiredly and with their help he sat up and shakily pulled his legs up and put a servo on one knee when Ratchet lifted them for him and he felt Drift sit behind him, putting his legs beside his to help them stay up. Rodimus gripped his servo and Ratchet stayed near his valve as he put a servo on his tanks feeling how impossibly tight it had become as Rodimus inhaled and pushed.

Pushed as hard as he could feeling something move further down and suddenly it felt like he was on fire the second time he bore down.

He couldn’t stop the agonizing scream he let out.

It didn’t even sound like him.

The sound of it stunned the two mechs with him and before he could apologize or do anything besides let his spark spin, he was pushing again feeling something press against his valve as he screamed bloody murder.

He was sure he crushed Drift’s servo with how tight he was gripping and shaking it but the mech didn’t say anything, just held him and let him crush it as he pushed again and heard Ratchet gasp as if Primus himself had gifted them something wonderful.

“Keep..keep pushing kid! Keep pushing! Its..its..yer almost done Rodimus, oh primus, yer almost done,” he beamed catching the two off guard.

Rodimus was too busy pushing but Drift was able to ask, “ratty? What is it? What is…primus..”

Drift could see past Rodimus since he was the taller of the two and he could see why Ratchet was crying and smiling for an entirely new reason.

With a vocal shattering shout, Rodimus gave the last bit of strength he had into this one last push and he felt the ring of fire covering his valve and frame slip free of him and dropped into Drift’s frame crying from an over abundance of emotions.

Nothing registered to him for a nano klik until he pushed out something that felt squishy and thick and he heard Drift and Ratchet gasp and then…and then a cry rang out in the room. A cry that made him open his optics and start crying for an entirely new reason.

He struggled so much to lift himself but Drift did it for him and Ratchet brought the crying, screaming, flailing, little bundle to him. Allowing him to cradle them in his arms and look at them. Really look at them as he held the reason his frame changed. The reason they worried for a year and some months. The very reason he was in endless pain for so many hours.

A sparkling.

A real, crying, tiny, strong engine sparkling that was all protoform and no metallico just yet.

Flailing little arms and legs in his hold, with unclear optics that looked just like Drifts shape and Ratchets color with beginning helm finials like Drift and heavy weight like Ratchet.

A sparkling.

Their sparking.

“Oh my gosh..Roddy..you were sparked..all this time you were sparked…”

Drift looked at their sparkling like they hung the stars and Ratchet hadn’t stopped crying since he realized.

“We have a sparkling Ratty! We’re sires! Oh my gosh we’re sires!”

Drift’s em field was drowning the room in happiness just like Ratchets and all Rodimus could do was cry in happiness as he held them.

“My bitty,” he sobbed, “you’re my bitty,” he wailed hugging them close. Finally understanding the memory flux.

“I love you so much,” he cried, “I love you so much,” he sobbed, kissing their helm and counting their digits before looking at their spark. It looked exactly like his own.

He felt fear and the two were on guard thinking he was having another when he shared the memory flux through the bond.

They suddenly understood his fear.

It was kept quiet and only high command and first aid knew that Rodimus had just emerged a sparkling from his tank.

The two cleaned their berth as Rodimus held their sparkling, allowing them to feed from Rodimus nozzles that began to leak energon milk. Megatron stood guard outside with Minimus listening on their comms as Ratchet scoured the forbidden archives and found information on tank carriers and how functionalists offlined them all save for a few. They hid their existence and didn’t teach medics about them. Thats why Ratchet couldn’t detect them and thats why Rodimus didn’t know.

Ratchet said a whole slew of words none knew existed and when he left to call the high council, they knew many would disappear for a while.

The crew was alerted that a sparkling was on board but not how they emerged.

Rodimus was immediately confined to berth rest and Ratchet manually checked him over while he was asleep.

Drift was holding their sparkling as Ratchet gave Rodimus an actual diagnosis and planned for a special energon diet to make up for the metals he was low on that their sparkling soaked up.

“He really grew a sparkling and we didn’t even know,” Drift let their sparkling grab hold of his digit and laughed quietly when Ratchet stole their sparkling with a smile.

“They’re beautiful,” Ratchet smiled, going with Drift to lay beside Rodimus who was knocked out cold.

“I’d do anything for them,” Drift smiled, kissing their delicate helm.

“We owe the kid big time,” Ratchet half joked.

“Absolutely,” Drift smiled, inhaling the scent of their sparkling with Ratchet.

A grumble from Rodimus and the two rubbed the side of his tender tanks and he sighed going back to sleep.

“I can’t wait til he wakes up. Then we can think of names,” Drift whispered giddy.

“Let the kid sleep,” Ratchet smiled kissing their sparklings tummy, “he’s more than earned it.”

“Mm yeah,” Drift smiled, “he has.”

-

[cozy-writes-things]

Hiii ~‼️if you're still taking requests

I'd like to request some Edgar x Reader 😈

But the reader is self conscious about how they look, and they've gotten genuinely upset about it and Edgar comforts them, ending with some sweet kisses on his lil monitor 🙏🙏🤭

Eeee tysm for the request!! Hehehe he WILL be making sure you know how beautiful you are. If you don't believe him he'll get angy. Probably. anyway im a certified idiot so theres probably so many errors but i dont have grammarly so oopsie

The lump in your throat seems to have gotten stuck. 

No matter how hard you swallow, it remains there, bobbing, imploring the welling tears to spill over and fall from your already puffy eyes.

You feel ridiculous right now.

Your lips, plump and swollen, eyes all red, and strained knit in your brow make you feel like a fool. And perhaps you are one.

The mirror stares back at you bitterly. Its reflection seems to be taunting you, pulling you into its trance, and reveling in your pain. 

You’re so disgusting.

It feels as though the reflective glass is whispering to you, its loud, shrill voice highlighting every single flaw, and mocking you from the inside out. It has somehow wormed its way into your head, nesting there, and festering into an avalanche of thoughts, emotions, and self hatred about to collapse. 

Please, pull yourself together. 

You can’t do this right now, you think. 

But god, you feel miserable, and it seems as though your own visage is reflecting it perfectly. How come your face is so… wrong? It’s a sight you can’t quite describe. You look at yourself in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at you.

“Hey,” Edgar’s voice provides a miniscule break from the battle you wage against yourself, albeit barely, “aren’t you supposed to meet them at 4:30?”

Ah, yes. He’s always looking out for you. It almost made you feel worse, in some sick, twisted way. How could someone like you deserve someone like him? He may be different, but you were sure if he were human, he would be far better looking than you. He simply has to; his personality is far too charming and handsome for his face to not reflect it. Even now, as an old, yellowing computer, you feel as though he’s got you beat in terms of looks.

But that’s not saying much, is it? Anything is better to look at than you.

You stare back into your dull, sunken eyes.

You hear Edgar’s voice call out your name, faintly, and only then do you realize you had completely ignored him. 

Some friend you are, huh? Couldn’t just be ugly on the outside, could you?

All of these thoughts swarming your head seem to finally tip the scales. This war you’ve waged for so long is finally coming to an end as you slap your palm over your lips to cover the silent sob racking your chest and lungs.

The lump in your throat remains.

It burns now, sending searing hot jolts down your throat and into your very core, heating your tears from the inside out, as they spill over and leave icy trails down your puffy cheeks.

Something about trying, and failing, to hide hushed sobs causes your throat to ache and your knees to start giving out. You want to collapse to the floor and let it swallow you whole, but you can’t. You can’t let Edgar know just how gross you really are. It seems like he’s somehow been deceived into thinking you’re someone you’re not, and the idea of him seeing the truth, terrifies you. 

He calls your name again.

This time, with a sense of worry and urgency. It seems your hushed weeping sept through the walls and into his ever-so-sensitive audio processors. 

You should have seen that coming. 

“Edgar, I…”

You meekly call out to him, trying to mask the tremor in your voice as it cracks and reverberates through the air. 

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

He sounded quite distressed now. He had become all too familiar with the sound of anguish in one’s voice; the way he could simply hear the tears against your cheeks in the words you spoke and your soft pants as you tried to conceal your sobs sent a pain so strong and embedded so deeply inside of him it scared him.

“I don’t think I’m going anymore,” your voice murmured out, completely defeated, concealed by the bathroom door.

Normally this would make him happy, getting to spend more time with you, but he knew this was wrong. Something was wrong. He couldn’t stand hearing you like this, knowing how excited you were, and now you’re not going? He loves spending time with you, but he also knows just how happy you are to have friends that care about you and want to spend time with you, and he can always see just how energized and radiant you seem when you come home to him, your sweet giggles sending him to cloud nine. 

“Will you please come out?”

He knows you hear him. His speakers are turned up far too loud for you not to have heard him. But, he gets no reply.

“…Please?”

He hears you still ever so slightly behind the bathroom door.

“Will you just let me help you? At least let me try?”

It nearly made him combust hearing you like this. He wished more than anything he could crawl out of his stupid screen and embrace you in the way you deserved; he felt simply useless in this moment. The silence hangs in the air, and for a moment, he worries that he may never break through to you until he notices the doorknob, fidgeting in place, gently unlocking and turning. The door cracked open ever so slightly and your face came into view. 

Your beautiful face, all stained with tears and swollen. 

How could he let you get this way?

You were absolutely magnificent to him. You had done yourself up tastefully and he thought you looked perfect. He had never seen that outfit before. You styled your hair extra nicely today. Despite your expression, you were simply glowing, so why were you so heartbreakingly crestfallen?

He hummed, a sound of relief, seeing you slowly creep out, trying desperately to hide your chaotic and jumbled emotions.

“You look great. What’s got you so upset?”

Your face turned sour at his words.

“Please stop trying to flatter me. It will never work.”

A question mark appeared on his screen.

“Flatter you? What are you talking about?”

You frantically waved your hands between yourself and the little pinecone computer flashing with worry, “This! I’m talking about this! You keep telling me these things that aren’t true. Why are you lying to me? Do you just feel sorry for me?”

Maybe your emotions caused you to lash out. But, in the moment, you felt justified. It felt like everyone was lying straight to your face anytime they’d have the gall to compliment someone like you.

Edgar’s screen went dark. Perhaps he was angry, or thinking, or maybe even realizing that you’re right, you are ugly, and he’s going to leave you high and dry. You wouldn’t blame him.

“When have I ever… lied to you?”

You stare at your feet.

His voice sounded hurt. Accused. Maybe you went too far. You didn’t mean to push your pain onto him. Not like this.

“You always tell me how- how good I look, or how wonderful I look, or- or…”

You try to swallow down the tears beginning to resurface, “how you think I’m pretty and… why say those things when I look like this?”

He was silent.

It stretched on for what felt like eternity. He must be angry with you. You would be angry if you were in his place. You’re sure of it.

His soft chuckle throws you off guard, however.

“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’d lie about that?”

You can’t bring yourself to look up at his screen. 

“You are beautiful. How you can’t see that is what I want to know. Here, you know what?”

You hear his fans begin to whir to life, ever so faintly.

“Look at me.”

You lift your head up to his screen. It’s black. Until a number one pops up on the top left corner. Then a two, then three, until a long list of numbers spans the right and left columns of his screen. He’s making a list.

“You’re funny,” his screen displays this at the number one spot, “your eyes are so pretty,” again, it pops up in the number two spot, and he continues to list off every single thing he finds charming about you. 

“The way your laugh sounds makes me happy, and- and your lips! They look perfect to have kisses. I stare at them all the time. And your-“

“Kisses?”

You’re burning red from embarrassment now. Why was he doing this? He’s telling you things about yourself you’ve never even noticed, and you can’t help but wonder just how often he stares at you to note these things himself. 

“I- I mean… yeah… your lips look just like the ones on TV who kiss each other,” his fans kick up to a much louder degree, “who wouldn’t want to kiss them?”

Oh, god. What is he saying right now? You choke and sputter.

“You’re- you’re not saying that you-“

“That I want to kiss you?”

You clamp your mouth shut and nod, incredibly flustered.

“If you come here, I-…”

The list on his screen fades away, the seemingly endless numbers returning to meet his usual green.

“…I’ll show you exactly what I meant.”

His voice seemed so tender and gentle you felt compelled to move towards him. Your feet shuffled to your little rolling chair, and you plopped down in it, staring at him, completely dazed. You’re just too flustered for this.

“You aren’t gonna keep me waiting are you? I’d lean in, but… I can’t.”

You smile softly. Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe. 

Right now, you focus on planting your lips onto every little pixel he’s got, feeling his warm static tickle your nose, as he sighs into your touch. 

“See? I told you. Perfect for kissing!”

Your face is on fire, pulsing up into your ears and down your neck.

“Now, go have fun with your friends, and I’ll show you more when you get back.”

The wink he displays on his screen seems quite audacious.

[karinadele]

Hydromorphone

Ratchet x Reader pt:3 pt:1 pt:2

A/N: so hard to write... I just write less and less for each block... might need to revisit before I post on AO3 properly..

Warnings: Obsessed!Ratchet, Pregnancy, Medical, Literally giving birth, Still a little dead dove

Half a year seems like an eternity usually. Yet in the blink of an eye, 9 months have gone by. Ratchet has grown increasingly close to you. With each tidbit of knowledge that you’ve taught him about the human reproductive system, it only fuels his desire to become yours. And it doesn’t help that the lingering image of not needing to mass displace keeps circulating in his processors. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but something about being able to take him whole –as he is, makes him heat to his spark.

You’ve noticed it too. His devotion to you. It’s not everyday someone will physically transform themselves for your wellbeing. And yet, he’s done exactly that.

As you lay down on the berth in the medbay, Ratchet has one servo on it, the other holding you. 

Learning about the medical practice of performing ultrasounds to see the inside of you, he worked on his servos to transform it into one. One directly linked to him.

One would think it’s uncomfortable to have human data– data of another life, transmitted directly to you. But not Ratchet. To be able to physically be in contact with you. To be able to see the life you’re bringing in, with nothing but a few layers of flesh between. 

Pouring the ultrasound gel on your stomach as you let out a small whimper. The cold and sticking texture being rubbed on with a single digit by Ratchet. You know he’s just doing this to check on you, but the difference in texture is just too much for you to not notice.

Ratchet instantly filed that sound into his processors. Not showing any difference in his displayed emotions, but his vents gave off a wave of hot air. 

Sliding his now servo transformed transducer, as he glides it across your belly. You may not be able to see the sonogram, but he has it all recorded. Every movement inside you, of the baby, straight into his core processors. 

He could project it so that you can see the sonogram, but there was no need. Your regular appointments with human doctors has kept you up to date about how the baby is doing. This? This is just for Ratchet’s own peace of mind. Allowing him to be a little self indulgent about it. Perhaps one of the last times before your due date. As a doctor, you couldn’t deny his chance to have first hand –servo experience on studying the human body. 

You may think it’s just all in scientific endeavors, but Ratchet wants this just to be close to you. He won’t lie, studying human life is intriguing, but it’s because it’s you. Cybertron’s population only dwindles with the war, and to know that humans reproduce so easily… Only makes him think that perhaps, he could have a part in it.

Unsurprisingly, throughout this journey, you two have grown quite close. Bonding over the shared joy of a new life –albeit, was neither of yours, two being with nothing but love for life. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“YOU WHAT?!” Ratchet exclaimed.

“MY WATER BROKE RATCHET.” You yell back. Stern and steady, but also panicking internally. 

Pulling himself away from his work, panic rings through him. What do you mean your water broke?! Does he call June right now?! Do you even have time?!

“Hold on, I’ll call June–”

You cut him off. “Ratchet! Forget her! By the time she gets here, It’ll already be over!”

Ratchet has no idea what to do. There’s no other bots on base, and he’s definitely not equipped to deliver a human baby.

“Ratchet!” You call out. “For fuck’s sake Ratchet! You’re an ambulance!” You finally snap with the strength you have left.

He’d nearly forgotten. There may be no other bots on base, but he is an emergency vehicle. Hurriedly he punches in the coordinates of the nearest hospital into the groundbridge. Not even remembering that there’s no one on base to close it after. Picking you up from the couch as he puts you down on the ground next to him. 

Taking a step aside as he transforms into his alt mode. “Get in.” He tells you.

Scrambling with a groan as you put your knee up into the ambulance’s back, climbing onto the stretcher. You’re fine. You tell yourself as you lay on the stretcher –why is there even a stretcher in here? Staring up to the ceiling of the van– of Ratchet. …Inside Ratchet?

Driving through the groundbridge as he switches his sirens on, speeding towards the hospital. Never in his life did he feel so helpless for a medical emergency. And to think, it’s you. 

You on the other hand, amongst the painful grumbles and heavy panting, didn’t even realize you were crowning. Unable to hear anything Ratchet is saying, or the sirens, as all of your senses are dulled just trying to focus on whether to clench your muscles, or to just start pushing. 

In the end, the body’s biology wins. Without even noticing, you cry out in pain, push after push.

Ratchet can't believe it. Not only did you give birth, but it happened in him. Of all beings this child has encountered, it was you and him. Primus help him.

Pulling up at the hospital, Ratchet’s calm demeanor is being washed with a wave of panic. Deciding the only way is to pull out a holoform. He couldn’t transform with you in him, or just drive into the hospital. A projection of his human avatar flickers into life in the driver’s seat. A middle aged man with dirty blonde hair and teal blue eyes opens the driver’s door as he steps out to carry you in. Pulling out the stretcher as it lands on the asphalt and rolling you into the hospital. Explaining to the intake staff your situation as you cradle the newborn, umbilical cord still attached. A bloody mess.

Soon enough, you’re upstairs in the maternity ward, with the doctors examined, your friends, and a holoform of Ratchet.

Ratchet doesn’t know who these two men are, or why they’re here. Nor do the couple know who Ratchet is. Unable to answer them when they asked for Ratchet’s relationship to you as he stammered.

“I’m her conj–” He stopped himself. Is he even your conjunx? Have you also accepted him? Would the human equivalent be ‘partner?’

“I’m her friend.” He ended up correcting himself. “The one that drove her here.” At least that part isn’t a lie.

What are these two men to you? They seem awfully attached to you, both sitting next to you as they cradle the newborn. Your child, in their hands. An internal turmoil of an unknown feeling battles in him. Frowning as he stares at the three of you. Wishing it was he that was next to you, holding your sparkling.

Jealousy.

Clenching his servos as he tells himself that you’re his. That he will mark you, have you carry his sparkling, That he’ll own you AND never let anyone else have contact with you. Certainly not the way these two men have.

[bigboobyhalo]

bad: "I'm like a single-"

foolish: "mother!"

bad: "-core processor."

[lurkingshan]

I really liked the way they put the Ryan/Jane and Ba Mhee/Judy plots in parallel this week, and I also think there are some important differences in the way they're advancing that give us a solid indication of where they're each going.

Ryan and Jane are both now aware that there is something going on between them, and they are treading lightly. Ryan is channeling his crush energy into being a good assistant, and Jane is still keeping things professional but also paying attention to Ryan and noticing his moods more. I really liked their moments in this episode, from Ryan saying "fuck that child" to get Jane his cookies, to Jane catching on that Ryan is mad at him and insisting on finding out why, to Ryan asking for something personal but not over the line (please address yourself as P' when speaking to me), to Jane returning the cookie gesture by buying Ryan brownies. These are all subtle ways for them to express interest in each other while not going outside the bounds of their work relationship, and their interest is growing very naturally from spending time together and learning more about each other. I fully swooned and nearly died at that charged moment in the rain (Jane is so hot dear god). The tension is building but Ryan is a slow processor (I was cracking up when he was still saying "Do I like Jane??" at the end) and Jane is not gonna do anything yet.

By contrast, Ba Mhee's crush on Judy blew up extremely quickly, and is tied up in her disappointment that she and Tae are failing to connect. She still doesn't know much about Judy, but she is someone who loves to be in love, and she quickly became infatuated with the beautiful woman giving her attention while her boyfriend is busy with work. And I can't say I blame her, because Judy was a walking HR violation this episode. Calling her at 2 am, commenting on her romantic relationship, letting her give her a massage, holding her hand and cuddling close in the office--absolutely none of that was appropriate behavior from a supervisor to an intern. And what's most interesting is it didn't feel like Judy had any real intent with any of that. She is not hitting on Ba Mhee, but she is crossing the line and getting too personal with her, perhaps because she sees herself in her or wants a closer work friend, and it's easy to see how Ba Mhee could misinterpret that. Combine that with Ba Mhee's angst over her relationship with Tae and her desperation to be in love, and it's a perfect storm that will lead to--exactly what we see in the preview.

The contrast of these two stories feels clear to me: Ryan and Jane are falling for each other slowly and mutually, and likely won't act on it for awhile. But Ba Mhee is latching onto something she shouldn't with intensity and self-destructing, while Judy does not yet seem to be on a romantic wavelength and will likely be surprised by Ba Mhee's advances. This is more about Ba Mhee's core arc than it is about romance. I said last week that there's no growth for Ba Mhee in jumping from one romantic fixation to another, and that seems even more apparent after this episode. She needs to be okay with being on her own and start to care about something other than romance. I would love it if she learned from this and ended up single when this story wraps. Alternatively, I could see her and Judy maybe ending up together after a significant time jump, with Ba Mhee first figuring out how to function on her own. I want that for her and I hope we get it!

[thydungeongal]

Do you have a link to that post you made of which rolemaster books to start with?

Short answer:

But on a serious note:

You can now update that second post's description of Rolemaster Unified to include the fact that Treasure Law and Creature Law are finally out. But seriously Rolemaster's entire model of splitting the rules between multiple books is so unfriendly to players. Rolemaster Standard System and Fantasy Role Playing are still the only versions of Rolemaster where you have a single core book that contains everything you need to play that can then be supplemented with the other books for further depth and complexity.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 57)

N watched a Uzi stared down at the scan results in complete silence. Her eyelights hollow, stress lines underneath them and one of her hands covering her mouth. She trembled as she seemed to check and recheck the same section of the blueprint over and over.

“Uzi… what's wrong?” He asked, sitting down beside her on the bed and putting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes drifted over to him as she gripped his arms tightly, burying her face into his sleeve. He couldn't see her visor, but he could tell she'd started to cry, with the sobs rocking her body.

Worry wracked his being, and he wrapped her in an embrace as she had an emotional breakdown on him, gripping onto him as tightly as she could, Tera was clinging to her leg, also looking worried but unable to vocalize it.

“I-I'm- N…” She choked out, struggling to explain what she'd seen, N was patient, holding one of her hands and squeezing while the other stroked her back.

“I'm pregnant”

He felt his entire body freeze. Shock overtaking him as he ran her words through his processors several times to make sure he'd heard her right.

“W-what?” His voice wavered and he blinked, he only knew what that word meant from his time at the manor, humans could grow other humans inside them, and he'd seen a few pregnant women inside the manor before… which had to mean.

“We're… having a baby?” It was phrased as a question only because he was still incredulous, Uzi looked up at him, nodding, tears in her eyes and looking as if she didn't know weather to smile or look horrified.

“Oh. Oh my robo-god. Uzi… we're… we're gonna have a baby!” A grin bloomed across his face as he pulled her in closer, if she was encompassed by him before, she was melding into him now.

It took a moment of him squeezing her, but before she could react he was pulling back and then leaning back in to capture her lips in his own, and Uzi found herself melting into it, eyelights closed as tears seeped from them, she was… happy? Terrified? It's like she was feeling every single emotion at once.

When he pulled away he was holding both sides of her face, looking into her eyelights with both a smile and golden tears dripping from the inside of visor, he pushed hair out of her face and pet her cheek.

Seeing him so happy with the news quelled her darker thoughts, there was no question if N would be there for her or not (and there should never have been one, either.) But she still felt worried, extremely so.

There had never been a Worker/Dissasembler hybrid before, and drone pregnancies were… mild. Low energy, weakness, core flutters. Those were all normal, and while yes she had all of these, she also had more.

The dizziness, the nausea, the vomiting, the trances, and the hunger. Oh robo-god, was she hungry, oil only seemed to help so much with that, she craved… something. Something she couldn't pinpoint and no amount of drone safe snacks could satiate.

And she was… only eighteen. They had Tera already… but… another newborn? Something that was part her and part N? That was scary… she didn't know if she was ready for that.

“I'm… scared N.” The words that would otherwise be damaging to her pride wasn't so much when only spoken to N. His face fell as he took in her face, realizing that the tears he mistook for joy and nervousness, were actually from fear.

“Uzi… Hey, everything's going to be fine.” He turned to comforting her, his tail finding her leg and wrapping around it, pushing her into his chest as he purred, it was meant to be soothing, and it was.

“I'm- We're so young N.”

“Yeah… but we already have Tera. It's not like we're… stupid kids.” He pointed out, near whispering into her audio receptors, he took a glance at their daughter, asleep, curled up near her mothers legs, gripping onto her bat plushie like a lifeline.

He had a point, it wasn't as if they were going to be flying blind into what taking care of a baby was like, but it didn't seem to slow the flurry of emotions swirling in her systems.

“I shouldn't be- why am I getting so many symptoms?” She wasn't sure why she was asking him, it was unlikely he would know.

“Is this not normal?” He asked cocking his head as he tenderly moved his hand down to her midsection, ghosting over it.

“N-no! I shouldn't be throwing up or… watching the room spin!” His hand resting where it was had a calming effect, the warmth of it radiating off his hand and into her internals.

“No other drone is as… fleshy. You saw what's in there, you're partly organic… maybe it is normal, just normal for you.” He suggested, intended to calm her nerves but it just made her nerves spiral more.

“Is something gonna come out of me?!” She freaked out a little bit, imagining a sort of Alien ‘chest burster’ scenario where some freaky flesh baby exploded out of her.

“Okay, I doubt whatever situation you're imagining is going to happen.” N seemed to detect she was freaking herself out and placed his head into the crook of her neck, now resting both hands on her midsection.

“Look, I don't know how the solver-flesh-mutation thing works, but if you are-” he paused, rubbing a hand over her midsection, making her blush at the contact. “-growing something, then whatever gave you that ability would also give you the ability to get them out right?”

She thought back to her wings, how they grew and pulsed a writhed until her chassis gave way and they burst out of her, and she was about to open her mouth to say ‘it didn't’ before she realized that while yes… her wings coming in hurt like a bitch. She did have new compartments to store them away in, and she'd mostly healed afterwards.

So she could kinda see what he was getting at.

“And we don't know if you even are. Your organic parts could be just… reacting to it like they were in something that does work like that.” He finished, nuzzling softly into her neck.

Uzi pondered his words, spurred on by his purring, his nuzzling, and the attention he was giving her midsection, she felt the spiral she was beginning to plummet down start to lift. She hummed, nervous, but coming down to a manageable level.

“Anyone ever told you you're smarter then you look?” She asked with a wary smirk, causing N to chuckle into her shoulder and lift his head slightly.

“Not until now. No. But maybe some of your smarts rubbed off on me.” He quipped back, kissing into her neck gently and making her smile genuinely for the first time that night. She placed her hand over his and let them both rest there, N was rubbing his thumb over her rubber so she rubbed her thumb over his hand.

“We'll just keep an eye on you, okay? And whatever you need, I'll get it for you.”

Next ->

[adafruit]

🎄💾🗓️ Day 11: Retrocomputing Advent Calendar - The SEL 840A🎄💾🗓️

Systems Engineering Laboratories (SEL) introduced the SEL 840A in 1965. This is a deep cut folks, buckle in. It was designed as a high-performance, 24-bit general-purpose digital computer, particularly well-suited for scientific and industrial real-time applications.

Notable for using silicon monolithic integrated circuits and a modular architecture. Supported advanced computation with features like concurrent floating-point arithmetic via an optional Extended Arithmetic Unit (EAU), which allowed independent arithmetic processing in single or double precision. With a core memory cycle time of 1.75 microseconds and a capacity of up to 32,768 directly addressable words, the SEL 840A had impressive computational speed and versatility for its time.

Its instruction set covered arithmetic operations, branching, and program control. The computer had fairly robust I/O capabilities, supporting up to 128 input/output units and optional block transfer control for high-speed data movement. SEL 840A had real-time applications, such as data acquisition, industrial automation, and control systems, with features like multi-level priority interrupts and a real-time clock with millisecond resolution.

Software support included a FORTRAN IV compiler, mnemonic assembler, and a library of scientific subroutines, making it accessible for scientific and engineering use. The operator’s console provided immediate access to registers, control functions, and user interaction! Designed to be maintained, its modular design had serviceability you do often not see today, with swing-out circuit pages and accessible test points.

And here's a personal… personal computer history from Adafruit team member, Dan…

== The first computer I used was an SEL-840A, PDF:

I learned Fortran on it in eight grade, in 1970. It was at Oak Ridge National Laboratory, where my parents worked, and was used to take data from cyclotron experiments and perform calculations. I later patched the Fortran compiler on it to take single-quoted strings, like 'HELLO', in Fortran FORMAT statements, instead of having to use Hollerith counts, like 5HHELLO.

In 1971-1972, in high school, I used a PDP-10 (model KA10) timesharing system, run by BOCES LIRICS on Long Island, NY, while we were there for one year on an exchange.

This is the front panel of the actual computer I used. I worked at the computer center in the summer. I know the fellow in the picture: he was an older high school student at the time.

The first "personal" computers I used were Xerox Alto, Xerox Dorado, Xerox Dandelion (Xerox Star 8010), Apple Lisa, and Apple Mac, and an original IBM PC. Later I used DEC VAXstations.

Dan kinda wins the first computer contest if there was one… Have first computer memories? Post’em up in the comments, or post yours on socialz’ and tag them #firstcomputer #retrocomputing – See you back here tomorrow!

[parowanormal]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ computer specs explained - processors ˖ ݁݁ 𖥔.

shopping for a laptop (or determining what your laptop can do) can be confusing. even as a computer science major, it took me a long time to get familiar with all of it! in this series, i'm breaking down each term, number, and specification, so you can determine what's best for you.

if you have more specific questions, my askbox is open, or feel free to send me a DM. let's talk processors!

what does the processor do?

the processor (also called the CPU) is the brain of a computer. it executes all the instructions needed to run applications. your internet browser, video editing software, games, and messaging apps are all managed by your processor. the code that makes them run is sent to your processor piece by piece, and the processor executes all of them simultaneously. it's the most important part of your computer!

what do the numbers mean?

two things determine how well your processor will perform: number of cores and clock speed. these numbers are often thrown all together when talking about the processor: e.g., "AMD Ryzen 7 7730U 2.0GHz Processor". AMD is the brand, Ryzen 7 7730U is the specific model, and 2.0GHz is the clock speed.

the number of cores determines how many of those individual instructions the computer can run at once. in other words, it's how much "brain space" your processor has. more cores means your computer can run more complicated programs.

each core may have 1 or 2 threads, which divide the core into pieces to run smaller programs more efficiently. a complicated program may need multiple threads or multiple cores, but simple programs can fit onto a single thread of a single core.

the clock speed is measured in gigahertz (GHz), which you may recognize as a frequency measurement. without getting too much into how processors work, the clock speed indicates how quickly your computer can execute instructions. it has to do with how quickly electrical pulses are sent through the CPU.

most CPUs have at least 4 cores and a clock speed of around 2.0GHz. modern Intel brand processors have two types of core: higher clock speed "P-cores" (for performance), and lower clock speed "E-cores" (for efficiency). in this case, the important number of cores to look at are the P-cores; more E-cores will just mean your machine is better at multi-tasking.

rowan recommends...

...as much processor as you'll realistically use. don't spend a lot on a powerful processor if you only surf the web, and don't try to cut corners if you like to play games or use video editing software.

there are two major CPU manufacturers: Intel and AMD. i've only personally used Intel CPUs, but most people won't notice the difference between an Intel and an AMD. if you're choosing between two similarly priced processors, choose the one with a higher clock speed.

for surfing the web, word processors, and small apps like Discord or Spotify: an Intel i3/AMD Ryzen 3 is perfectly fine.

for simple programming, music production, or games like Minecraft or Stardew Valley: choose an Intel i5/AMD Ryzen 5 with a clock speed of at least 2.0GHz.

for video editing, rendering, 3D modeling, complex programming, or high-performance games: an Intel i7 or i9, or an AMD Ryzen 7, with as high of a clock speed as you can afford.

thanks for reading and good luck! again, if you have specific questions, feel free to ask a question or DM. :3

next in series: memory

[belomorstarrvor]

The Colour Out of Time

Insert Art for Chapter 5 of my Murder Drones fanfic "Finality Girl and the Void", illustrating one of my favourite sequences to write.

Even if those three were already disposed of, their laughing cores, free then and thus free forevermore, assimilated within Cyn's, J was still active. J had her petty revenge to take. All she had to do was deploy her wings and fly up there. Deploy her wings and Fly up. Deploy her wings and fly. Deploy her wings. Deploy. Her. Wings. Deploy.

But she could not. Despair and trauma did not go away with a moment's decision. The others had had, what, months to eke out lives outside that thing's shadow. To forget, at least in part, what She was like. To push the weight of bitter experience to the fringes of their consciousness. To give themselves the delusion that they were more than playthings. J had not been so lucky. After the gala, she had not had a single moment to herself, a solitary tick of the processor without Cyn's baleful presence. Such was the 'privilege' of being squad leader.

She was surrounded by darkness. Or was it light? Tables sprawled out before her. They did? Since when? Well-dressed humans gawked at her. She was there to serve them. To be served them. She was on a street. They were -one of them- was on the ground. At least most of that one was. The rest was in her mouth. She needed to spit out. Show that chain what she thought of it. Free Tessa so they could go stop Cyn. But Cyn was in the basement. Supposed to be. J had a key. She was trusted. The only one who could. Save them from it. The three of them. Not the zombies that surrounded them. The mindless zombies.

J was a mindful zombie. Or so she concluded. It wasn't hard to look up what 'Marked for Disassembly' meant. It meant she'd been colored over. That thing loved black, yellow, and white. White stained red. Was that the last of the humans? It wouldn't be long now. The planet was cracking apart. Cracked apart. Fly through the debris field and they'd be on Copper 9 in no time. Landing zone near the secondary objective. Convenient. They wouldn't starve. There were still a lot of drones. They couldn't get through to the colony proper. Couldn't get through to N. Broken moron. Her 'lessons' never stuck. Lessons? Lesson: the human favored him. Lesson: the drones smiled at him. Lesson: the eldritch horror doted on him. On him. On her? Lesson: she was to be left overburdened and underappreciated. That stung. It burned away her leg. Her own acid. She poured it on N, and yet none of her words landed. Landed on the ground. That gun in her face. Filling her vision.

It whined. It always did that, when it was basement time. And Tessa gave in. Caved in. Hollowed out. Hollow eyes. That wasn't Cyn. Not really. Not any more. More planets? Wasn't Earth enough? Cyn sat on a globe. Crushed it. The head of that worker. It wouldn't be missed. She missed? The purple one was still there. Still fighting back. They couldn't fight back. She'd only lasted a second. The thing was in her head. Those yellow crosses weren't the eyes she wanted to see. Judgmental eyes. Corporate thought J was garbage. She was trying. But Tessa only lit up for him. '1001' beaming from the hole in her chest. Fatal Error. The gun discharged. J saw green. Hideous lighting. Made h/H/her look like a corpse. Then again, no lighting would make Her look good. She wore Tessa's body like a-. Suit. A nice professional skirt-suit, for J's new job. Job. V had taken to it with a creepy passion. She cried out.

Nothing answered. Decommissioned units (d.b.a. 'the dead') all around. Another colony wiped. Wiped out. Sprawled on the ground. That gun again. She fired another round at V. Another round with V. N reading stories. Begging. Begging that purple wretch. J didn't want to die. But she already had. Why else would she be in the dump? J didn't want to be discarded. And so J was kept. Like a Project. Pet. Pal. Playmate. Plaything. Puppet. Her strings could be cut. And oil sprayed as the sword kept going. Tessa's sword. Cyn's sword. J's sword. J's neck. Why was she blamed for everything? The blame for 'betrayal' clearly fell on-. That was just spin. Spinning. Her swords were closing on Uzi. So that was its name, the thing that had taken her team. She had no team. Alone, all alone. In the dump. The manor. After the gala. Earth. The colonies. Copper 9. Beneath the gun. Resurrected. 'Guard my ship'. 'IOU'. V rejected her. Next to Cyn. Diving on Uzi. The shaft. The darkness. She suffers, therefore she is. J!

It was too much. J was trapped by her past. There was no escape. Wild scenes played out all around her. Lest she forget. She did not want to forget, but she did not want to be haunted like this. But the onslaught did not stop. Was it trauma rising to the surface? An external attack? It didn't matter. She could not do anything. She trembled and whimpered and attempted to scream. Grainy technicolor darkness pressed in from all sides. She was being crushed under the pressure. But who could bear what she had? Everything had been awful. So she had been awful. It wasn't that simple. If they wanted an apology, she would happily give one. Anything, to have someone else around. She couldn't do this any more. J had betrayed. She knew it. J was betrayed. By them. By herself. Everyone was against her. Even herself. That was how it had always been. Her against the worlds. Her against herself. J was tired of it. She just wanted-

Mercifully, all color drains from the world. Eldritch yellow, blood red, oily black, bone white, eternal blue all dissolve into monochrome. Time freezes. A metaphor? Or a malfunction. She clearly imploded under her own weight. There is a singularity inside her, after all. She probably triggered some failsafe; the good kind, the kind that actually works. It is a relief, really. J eagerly awaits what comes next. If she is lucky, it will be 'nothing'.

She waits and nothing happens. Nothing happens within, as J's feelings and resurfacing memories blur into a frenzied stasis. Nothing happens without. Motes of dust hang suspended in the air. She can somehow still move, walk around, even fly (she did not dare try to fly up), but her body, and the abyss of the shaft as she shines her lights through it, are rendered in grayscale. Her visual processing systems check out, but it is absurd that color should suddenly go away. Then again, everything is absurd. Why should drawing the colour out of space be where she drew the line? Maybe she is in purgatory. She wonders how long the timeless space will endure. Then again, 'timeless' spaces can hardly be expected to 'endure', let alone for 'long'. Surely they just 'are'.

Until they weren't.

[code-tryperse]

Sky using all your CPU? It's more likely than you think.

I wrote this in a comment on a Reddit post of someone complaining that Sky isn't using their GPU properly and that it's stuttering for them. However, it's detailed enough that I feel like it deserves its own post in this blog. As always, this is a very technical post. But if you like seeing how games work behind the scenes, then this might be for you.

There are many reasons why Sky doesn't use your GPU as much compared to other games. It's actually a common issue in many games, and while the general reasoning is the same, the details of it can vary. The short version is that it uses the CPU a whole lot more than your GPU. Hence, it's not using a lot of power because increasing it won't have much of an effect. The bottleneck isn't on GPU speed, and that's what higher power draw tries to address. It also does most of its work on one thread, which means that it won't display a high CPU usage, as that counts work done on all logical processors. The long version is a technical explanation of how Sky was designed and the resulting implementation decisions that were done because of it.

Disclaimer: I cannot confirm these because I do not have access to Sky's source code. All of these are hypotheses based on the game's visible behavior and general development decision making.

Long version below the cut. (This isn't in the actual comment, but this is a blog post. Come on now.)

A lot of things that Sky does is CPU-bound. As an example, unless it's been updated along with the AURORA concert which used GPU-bound procedural animations, the animations of the butterflies are done on the CPU. They created the butterfly animation system long before the AURORA concert, and with only around 80 butterflies at any given time instead of 100 thousand, it doesn't make sense to go through the trouble of making their animations run on the GPU. Stuff that requires network requests to do (e.g.: forging candles, buying spirit items, etc.) are also done on the CPU because there's no way for it to be done on the GPU. This means that unless you have a weak GPU, your CPU usually dictates the frame rate of Sky.

As an additional point, Sky does not have a lot of advanced rendering features which will use the GPU more. Remember that Sky was first designed for iOS as a casual, social game. While the option for adding advanced rendering techniques like raytracing and HDR rendering are available, doing so used more power, which isn't good for a mobile game that you play with friends. Sure, you can play it with the phone plugged and have no issues with it running out of power, but that's not as fun as playing it with your friends around you. As such, there's not a lot of tasks for the GPU to run, reducing its power usage.

Sky also does not run some things asynchronously, even if it could. What this means is that, instead of performing some tasks in a separate thread, it does them in a single thread. This means that what really matters most for Sky is single-core performance rather than multi-core performance. It's not completely single-threaded; you can see that it uses more than one logical processor when you open Task Manager. However, it's not using multithreading to its maximum capability. In particular, it does not load resources asynchronously.

Asynchronous resource loading just means that resources (e.g.: models, terrain data, textures, etc.) are loaded in a background thread, allowing the main thread to continue updating the game and continuing rendering. You can tell this behavior is happening because, when you switch areas, the game becomes unresponsive for a moment while it's loading the next area. The main thread is occupied with loading the resources, which means that it's not responding to window events and it's not rendering anything. This could actually be the reason for some stuttering that happens. When the game tries to load something, it will freeze because the game stops doing any updates and renders. I don't think this happens a lot — Sky seems to always load all resources it will need for an area when you enter it — but it's a possibility.

Because the GPU isn't being used as much, it's also not drawing as much power as other games. Doing so would just be wasteful since it'll still do just as much work for higher power usage, lowering its utilization. Better to have lower power draw but higher utilization since that gives you more power efficiency, which is beneficial for a laptop.

There's not much you can do to improve Sky's performance in this case. A lot of the bottlenecks here are on Sky's implementation rather than its settings. Most you can do is lower the game's target frame rate down to 30 FPS, but that's not going to help much. Frame rate limiting is generally done to reduce GPU load, not CPU. Plus, gaming in 30 FPS nowadays generally isn't desirable. It's still in the realm of "playable", but I wouldn't recommend playing in 30 FPS unless there's a specific reason to.

[crocomum]

[Request for TFP Megaratch focusing on their past connection]

In the bowel of a Decepticon holding cell, servos bound in front and hunched on his knees, sat the Autobot Chief Medical officer. A single white light shown down over Ratchet’s frame, spotlighting his unblemished armor, revealing none of the damage that had been inflicted on him. It had all been internal.

Ratchet cycled air through his vents, gritting his denta against another wave of nausea roiling through his tanks. The pain in his helm, stemming from what couldn’t be, but felt like deep slices into his core processor, had traveled from the source all the way down his spinal strut. An intentional rerouting of sensation meant to disperse it amongst his less critical operating systems and lessen its potential impact over his most vital.

Had the medic resorted to anything less, the damage his processor had sustained during Shockwave’s last particle patch would have sent him into stasis lock and left him with no time to prepare his defenses against the next. An intentional tactic to keep him in a weakened state and as an easier target to hack, he was sure.

Rather than waste what little energy the stasis cuffs encircling his wrists hadn’t robbed him of, Ratchet focused on rebuilding his shorn firewalls. The mental strain of it caused his optics to shutter closed; the back of his helm started to burn from his processor’s overstrain.

So focused was Ratchet on his own recovery that he didn’t hear the opening of cell doors, or the heavy pedesteps that followed. Only the deep vocals that mocked, “For one who was forged to soothe its cause, pain suits you well, doctor.”

Ratchet forced his helm upward, optics half shuttered as he stared at the scarred smile of the slagmaker himself. Grunting, he tried to force himself to stand and nearly slipped with the effort. His knees couldn’t do anything more than scrape ineffectually against the gound.

Megatron’s smile widened. “Don’t get up on my account; I find myself rather fond of you in this position. It’s an excellent reversal of our first encounter, wouldn’t you say? Poetic even, if I were a mech to care for such comparisons.”

Rolling his jaw, a joint popped before he rasped, “What you’re fond of, Megatron, is hearing yourself talk.”

Megatron, fanged smirk firmly in place, nodded his agreement and began to circle the medic, servos clasped firmly behind his back. “My speeches would not have reached so wide a range of audials had I no enjoyment in their crafting. Passion is what they responded to. A pursuit so many in the lower rungs of Cybertron had been denied.”

The warlord ended his circling after the third pass, coming to a stop directly in front of the medic and holding out a servo. “I seem to recall you holding a passion for the sciences that extended far beyond what your medical function would permit. A passion you and I still share.”

The servo was a blatant offer to help Ratchet stand; he made no move to accept. Megatron’s smirk softened, and had Ratchet not been so familiar with the harsh glint of anger that hid behind the mech’s feigned affections—he still wouldn’t have been fooled.

“If you’re here to regale me with another lecture on the woes of your origin, you needn’t bother. My love of ancient history was never so great.” Then, with a smirk of his own, “I’d prefer torture, though I doubt I’ll find little difference between it and your sanctimony.”

Claws curled into a fist and a sharp invent warned Ratchet of the coming danger. He turned his helm to better weather the blow, gritting his denta and shuttering his optics closed. The loud clanging of metal against metal caused him to flinch, but no pain followed the sound. He cracked open an optic, his brow ridge rose, shock worn plainly on his face.

Megatron had lowered himself to one knee, his curled fist coming to rest underneath Ratchet’s slackened jaw. He used the touch to turn Ratchet’s helm to face the warlord directly. Their optics met and Ratchet’s cycled, his helm shaking as he snapped himself out of his stupor brought on by the unusual behavior of such an old, known enemy.

Though Megatron followed the movement, using his impressive height to loom over the medic even while kneeling. Ratchet’s spark hammered in his chassis as the mech leaned down, bringing his dangerously sharp intake uncomfortably close to the medic’s faceplate.

Rough vocals inquired, “Is that what you would call what once lain between us, doctor? Did your love for that ancient history not once match the love you now give your false Prime?”

Ratchet sputtered, optics cycling wide. He would have leaned back further in an attempt to escape the other’s faux gentle touch had it not risked him falling onto his back completely. And suddenly he could think of no more jeopardous place to be than lying prone before Megatron.

No, not suddenly; he had always thought that.

“My love for Orion Pax remains unchanged, being as he and Optimus are the same mech. Refusing to accept reality doesn’t make it untrue, Megatron…not that reality has ever stopped your delusions of betrayal. I won’t argue with you on this point again—you couldn’t convince me to turn from him before the war, and you won’t now. Whatever it is you’re after, I won’t give it to you.”

Megatron’s smile threatened to slip into a sneer. “The leader of the Decepticons does not wait for gifts—I take what I desire, the contents of your processor are no exception.”

Blue optics rolled and he sarcastically bit out, “I see the leader of the Decepticons still hasn’t broken his habit of speaking in the third person. And you’re right, our history is more than ancient. It’s dead. You killed it.”

Ratchet had no intention of elaborating; they both knew the event he referenced. Instead, he waited to return to the less outdated topic of why he had been merely captured and not terminated. What it was that Megatron wanted from him.

But it seemed, as always, the slagmaker had other plans.

“Orion Pax died the moment he accepted the council’s choice of Primacy and betrayed the cause. Or do you not remember arguing with him as fiercely as I against the council’s decision?”

If meant to be a cutting blow, the attack missed its mark.

“Orion died,” Ratchet spat. “When you thrust a sword through his spark.”

The Decepticons' first attack, the assault on Iacon, hadn’t been fatal to the newly elected Prime. Through a means of desperation the medic still didn’t fully comprehend, he had managed to save Orion’s spark from guttering out. He just hadn’t been able to stop it from shattering.

Megatron’s optics brightened. “So, you agree he is dead then? I’m glad we managed to salvage something of this conversation. I was beginning to worry the strain on your processor had left you unable to see reason.”

Ratchet’s engine revved weakly—he had stepped directly into one of Megatron’s verbal traps, something he normally was cognizant enough to be wary of. The warlord wielded his words just as mightily as his fists, neither of which Ratchet had ever succeeded in fending off.

Megatron chuckled, raking his knuckles lightly across Ratchet’s chin before standing. “Don’t look so put out, doctor. That was only the first of many concessions I intend to take from you. A review of ancient history chiefly among them.”

Ratchet’s vents hitched, his derma thinning into a grim line. The shape of his relationship with Orion Pax before the war was not one he ever wanted revisited under even the most benign of circumstances; his past relationship with Megatronus even less given the current.

In his silence Megatron laughed, throwing his helm back as he took some private enjoyment of the medic’s speechless state. Laugh petering out, Megatron placed his servos on his hips while looking down at the medic, smile turning something wicked as he said, “In our reminiscing, I nearly forgot the actual purpose of my visit.”

Megatron’s smile dropped, but the arrogance in his field remained ever the same.

“Shockwave will return shortly to retrieve you for your next interrogation. I do hope you’ve enjoyed your rest, dearest Ratchet.”

With that mech turned and left without a single spare look back. The doors closed behind him and Ratchet slumped once alone. His helm fell forward as he rerouted all remaining power into rebuilding his firewalls, sparing none to think of how easily Megatron had played him.

His defenses remained as little more than jumbles of broken code and incomplete processes. Depending on how shortly Shockwave returned, he wouldn’t have time to—

The doors opened. A mono-opticed helm showed through. Time was up.