#so. maybe for optics reasons they would avoid that

[theoceanoasis]

Deaf Rodimus who always has his implant audials in but takes them out to charge on a night he forgot Drift and Ratchet were coming over

No one knew he was deaf not even Ratchet. It was his biggest insecurity and something he went to great lengths to hide especially when he became Prime.

Since most injuries and diseases could simply be fixed having a disability was looked down on. Many people believed those with disabilities were useless and a burden on everyone else who should end themselves for the greater good.

It hurt growing up listening to how others like him were talked about and it was the reason he was so determined to hide this part of himself.

When he became a Prime he was even more determined. Since Primes were seen as the closest thing to a god and no one wanted a broken one.

If they found out he was deaf they would ask questions wondering if he was worthy of the matrix. Something he already had to fight so hard to prove. This would just be another thing added on top.

He didn't know why Primus didn't fix his audios when he was upgraded and some part of him thinks it's because he was unworthy and that he was always meant to give up the matrix to Optimus.

He was nothing but a stand in while Optimus was the real Prime and he didn't deserve the title and oftentimes felt like a fraud.

He tried to push the negative thoughts away as he went to charge his implants. They worked wonderfully and he wore them all the time but occasionally they needed to be charged every few months.

He'd been putting it off, not wanting to take them off. Because every time he always felt uncomfortable and his negative thoughts would oftentimes overwhelm him.

After taking it off he felt uncomfortable and exposed to the world having been so used to hearing. He grabbed blankets and made himself a little nest with his back pressed against the wall while his body faced the door.

He tried his best to relax and fall asleep wanting to wake up and have his device charged.

He didn't hear the knocking on his door or his comm blowing up with messages since he accidentally left it in the other room.

He'd been so stressed out about taking off his implants that he forgot tonight was movie night.

Ratchet and Drift waited outside for a long time both of them calling him.

"Maybe something's wrong. Since he's not picking up."

Drift suggested looking at the door worriedly.

Ratchet went to enter his code when the TV turned on. They both jumped at the loud volume and continued waiting for Rodimus to answer the door.

Drift tried calling him a few more times wondering what was going on. He seemed so excited a few days ago for their movie date. He didn't know what changed since then.

"He's clearly home and since he's not answering he's avoiding us."

"I'm sure that's not true."

Even as he said that he looked at the door skeptically. It wouldn't be the first time Rodimus avoided them although that hasn't happened since they first started to court him and some miscommunication happened.

"Maybe he forgot?"

"Then why isn't he answering the door when we've been knocking on it or answer his comm that's been ringing nonstop? I can hear it inside."

They both listened to the sound of his comm go off as they continued calling him. He gave the door a sad look because Rodimus was avoiding them again instead of talking about it.

"Rodimus if you're not going to answer the door we are leaving!"

Ratchet banged on the door a few more times and when nothing happened he walked away with a huff muttering about a waste of time. Even as he said that he could see the hurt in his optics and he followed his Conjunx. Hopefully he could get some kind of an explanation from Rodimus and if he was avoiding them he'd like to know why so they can at least try and fix it.

[cyberrose2001]

Can we pretty please have some angsty fluff?

Maybe Optimus Prime from TFP returning to Earth because he missed his s/o. (Let's pretend RID never existed. Please.) Maybe he left on a bad note and they told him that they'd never forgive him. And once he's back, she's completely ignoring him and she's trying her best to avoid him at all costs

You can choose what to do in the end. I want to see your mind wander :DD

Unforgiven Goodbyes

TFP Optimus x human! gn! reader

whoops

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injury/blood, mental struggles, just straight-up angst.

Word count: 2,475

You're pissed off. No, you're more than pissed off. A tangle of emotions that would take a lifetime to detangle in your mind. You are pissed off, heartbroken, angry, yet excruciatingly relieved to see him.

But you can't bring yourself to face him again. That beautiful, other-worldly sculpted face seems to torment you whenever you close your eyes. That moment when he looked back at you before he plunged himself into the Well of Allsparks, the look of apologetic heroicness. It burned into your brain and left a nasty scab that you can't help but pick at. But the scar has healed. You've disciplined yourself to stop scratching it, but watching him walk through the hangar doors ripped it open once again.

You've distracted yourself as much as you can. Doing pointless chores around the new base the bots have made themselves at home with, going for long walks outside by yourself, hiding around every corner when you hear that rumbling voice. You tried everything to keep the wound closed, to pretend that he's still dead, to justify all the mourning you've gone through all these years.

Another reason not to face him was how you reacted when he told you his plan. You were the first to know, and you've never felt your heart sink so fast. It was like he had struck a dagger to your stomach and kissed you as you were bleeding out. You had exploded with anger you couldn't control and stormed out before he could do anything about it. You screamed at him as he collapsed onto his knees that you would never forgive him, and so far, you've kept that promise. The next time you saw him was before he made his great sacrifice, and you had nothing else to say to him. You couldn't say anything else.

And you won't for a long time, not when you have headphones on to block out the world. You stand at the sink in the human kitchen. It's semi-exposed to the main base, with a half-wall shielding the stove and sink. You're not sure why it's exposed; it must be concerning the lack of rooms in this old military bunker. You don't care anyway. You only care about scrubbing the dishes beyond clean and slamming them onto the drying rack before you break the delicate ceramic plates from gripping them too hard.

While cleaning the dishes, you don't realise how much of a racket you're making with your music blasting and capture the attention of the one bot you were trying to avoid.

Optimus.

He looks at you curiously, a hint of longing in his optics. Optimus knows you're avoiding him, and it's so blatantly obvious that everyone notices, too, creating tension through the base you could cut with a sharp enough knife. He wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to you. And so far, this is the only opportunity he's stumbled upon that could make it possible. Though, he doesn't want to frighten you and scare you away. He needs to be gentle and cautious in his actions, but it's difficult when you can't hear or see him.

Optimus reaches out, his servo twitching at how gentle he's trying to be. He touches your shoulder with a single digit but retracts his servo quickly when you jump out of your skin and drop a plate on the floor, shattering the ceramic in all different directions.

You scream then seethe, ripping your headphones off to face whoever dares to lay a finger on you, "Why the fuck would you-"

Frozen in your tracks, you stare at Optimus, the longest you've looked at him in a long time. Your heart snaps in two again, and the wound in your mind festers with flashbacks before you try to make a run for it. You don't get far, though, before you step on a piece of broken ceramic and cry out in pain.

"Ah!" You fall back on the ground, clutching your lower leg, "Fuck it-"

"Y/n, I am so sorr-"

"N-No!" You practically spit in his face. You let go of your leg and scramble backwards into a corner. With nowhere else to go, you turn to face him again and watch how his grip tightens on the railing before him. If looks could kill, Optimus would still be dead. Maybe you secretly hoped it was possible, "Get away from me."

"Please, you're hurt," Optimus looks down at your bare foot, now bleeding heavily onto the floor from a deep gash.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, not giving a damn that you're bleeding. You've been through worse, after all, "Oh, so now you care?"

Optimus tilts his helm, "What? I have always cared-"

"Oh really? You're really going to do this, Optimus?" You growl, grabbing the bench above you to pull yourself up, "You didn't seem to care about me when you sacrificed yourself! No, scratch that," You point a bloody finger at him, "When you fucking abandoned me!"

Optimus's shoulders sink, his grip on the railing relaxing as he feels like you've plunged a knife into him, "I did not-" He sighs heavily, like he cannot find the words, "Please... let us get you to Ratchet."

"I don't need his or- or your help," You hobble on one foot, hissing in pain as you make your way to anywhere else on the planet. The blood smears on the floor with every misguided step as you pass by him with a cold shoulder, "I've managed just fine on my own, Prime." You sneer at him.

Optimus watches you hop down the stairs, and he slumps his frame down on the railing. His vocaliser rumbles with regret and pain at how you're treating him. And it's not like he can blame you. Optimus would probably be stricken with the same grief if a lover of his decided to sacrifice themselves; he'd be absolutely distraught. And all that distraught just for them to return like it was a mere week-long vacation? Well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He thought you would be overjoyed and run up to him with that beautiful smile on your lips, perhaps even beg for one of those joyrides he always loved taking you on through the desert. He thought you would've missed him, the bare minimum for someone who has lost a loved one.

Optimus sighs and lifts his helm from the railing before turning on his pedes to look for something else to distract him from you. He looks down before he takes a step and sees your trail of smeared blood on the concrete. His optic ridges furrow, a look of determination and apprehension as he steps to follow your crimson breadcrumbs out of the hangar doors.

Before he reaches the hangar doors, a soft touch plants itself on his shoulder, and he jolts slightly. Optimus turns his helm down to see a gloomy look on Ratchet's face, his servo squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Let them go, Optimus," He speaks softly, "They need some space."

Space is the only thing he's given them so far.

-

"Stupid fucking dishes. Stupid me. Stupid him."

Your fingers tremble as you rip some of your shirt off to wrap around the gash in your foot. The minor hit of adrenaline quickly left you like a hit of nic as soon as you slumped down on the other side of the hangar outside. The dull throbbing turns into sharp pain as you tighten the fabric, causing a small whimper to leave your throat. You relax your head against the concrete wall behind you, wishing you could slam it against it instead. But anger slowly drains from your frame, and you bury your face into your dirty hands, and you sob—a heartbreaking sight to anyone that were to stumble upon you.

But you find that the tears weren't mourning from him, but for yourself.

How selfish are you? Are you so dense in the head that you're blindsighted to how much he loves you? How much Optimus missed you that even after facing the hereafter, he came back for you? How awful must the afterlife be for him to want to come back to you, of all people? These questions come flooding into your mind with every tear-jerking sob that wracks your body. But the one question at the forefront of your mind terrifies you, making you want to slump further into the self-deprecating aura you've swallowed yourself in.

Do you still love him?

You bite your lip hard. Do you still love him? That's a stupid question to ask yourself. Of course you still love him. You wouldn't be the person you are today if you never did.

Then why the fuck do you push him away?

You don't know. Maybe it was how you spoke to him before he took his own spark, being so ashamed of yourself that you could barely look at him. Or perhaps you've become too comfortable in your new adjustment to life without him, and for that to all come crumbling down so suddenly with no warning has shaken you to your core.

That's very selfish of you.

You know that. You've always known that.

Maybe you just weren't ready to let go.

A deep, trembling breath leaves your parted lips.

...

Yeah, you know.

-

Optimus stealthily follows the trail once again after Ratchet leaves. He just can't walk away after that encounter. And as much as it hurts him to see your reaction, he must ensure you're okay despite whatever you spit in his face. Optimus did not beg at the throne of Primus himself for another chance at nothing. He needs to make amends, no matter how much of a fight you put up at your wishes to be left alone.

Soft steps of his pedes lead him on a wild goose chase. It seemed as if you had stumbled around in circles for quite some time, the trail of blood looping around before overlapping itself to follow the edge of the hangar. Optimus become increasingly concerned about your welfare, worried you have lost too much blood. But he knows that you are tough if all these years on your own have anything to show for it.

His pace replaces stealth for hastiness as he continues on the trail, rounding the next corner of the hanger. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, and his eyes soften with pure broken-heartness. His servos clenching in regret.

He carefully approaches your slumped frame and stands before you. He first notices your foot, half bandaged and leaking slightly. You weren't wrong after all. You could take care of yourself. He smiles softly to himself at this.

Optimus carefully kneels in front of you, still a fair distance away. All he wants to do is pick you up and tell you that everything is alright, that he's here and not ready to leave again anytime soon.

He keeps his servos to himself for now.

"Y/n," Optimus begins softly, "I know you are upset," This seems like an all too familiar conversation, "And you have every right to be."

No reaction from you so far, a few sobs and hiccups. His spark clenches.

"I did not get a chance to tell you how truly thankful I am for you," Optimus continues, fidgeting with a digit in his lap, "How I still reminisce on our long-forgotten time together, even whilst I was merged with the All Spark."

Optimus takes a chance. He shuffles closer to you and gently pries your hands from your face like you were a pretty piece of wrapping paper he wanted to keep. His optics drag over your sodden face, how your eyes begin to focus on his. It wasn't the fiery look of anger he had seen just earlier but one that looked of surrender; you had given up a fight he wished he could've helped you with.

Optimus moves one servo from your hands to gently caress your face, a gentle digit brushing over your cheeks, "My, just look at you," He cups your chin softly, tilting your head to look up at him, "You are still as beautiful as ever."

He watches as the tears well in your eyes again, a small glimmer in your eyes that's more familiar to him than the dull. You grip his servo and pull it into a hug, resting your forehead on his wrist, and you cry.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry...I-I'm stupid... I shouldn't have..." You sob, clutching onto him with every fibre of your being, "Oh god..."

Optimus's spark fizzles and cracks at your heart-breaking apology and the tears dripping onto his servo. He gives you a sombre look before carefully pulling you into his servos, picking you up to press you against his chassis to return his long-awaited affections.

"Shh," He hushes your cries, pressing a gentle kiss to your head as he rocks you softly like a slumbering sparkling, "It is alright; nothing you say could ever make me resent you."

You sniffle, burying your head into his chassis. His familiar scent of motor oil and fumes fills your senses and relaxes you deeper into him. You try to speak, to say anything other than hiccuping pathetically.

"I-" You stutter, ripping your face away from his chassis to stare up at him. A shaky hand reaches up to touch him, a tiny 'tink' as your fingernail grazes against his face plate. He's real, he's here, and he's not mad at you. And the best thing is, he forgives you.

And you forgive him.

"I missed you," You take a sharp breath, "I miss you so much."

Optimus' sombre frown turns into a small smile; a weight lifts off his frame at your admission. The worry he put himself through all seems to melt away as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hoping to melt away your grief with the kiss along with his.

You gasp softly. Far too much time has passed since you've felt those gentle dermas meld into yours, and as much as the past you wanted to forget how his touches felt, you find yourself kissing him back with as much need and passion. A few fleeting moments pass before you're forced to part for a much-needed breath. It feels like life has returned to you, like after all this time without him you were holding your breath in fear of drowning.

Optimus closes his optics, softly pressing his forehead against yours, leaning into the warm touch of your hands that he oh so craved. He knows you still love him, he never once doubted that deep down inside you always did, even after he had regretfully abandoned you.

"I miss you too."

Finally. He felt good to say that.

[ikkosu]

prowl stealing reader's panty and being an overall pathetic scumbag 🛐 I need

a/n: OUGHHHHH YESSSSS. NSFW WARNING UNDER THE CUT

IT'S funny. A lot funny, really. He considers himself pragmatic, prone to cold shoulders, used to remarks that'll sully his name, maybe even leave a dent on his face. He does have an optic left, though. All that he doesn't care because honestly? There’s no weight to it, whatsoever.

And yet.

You've been nice to him only once — a mere smile and a few parting words of praise, and now he's reduced to a degenerate, cushioned up against his berth as he purges himself with the scent of your undergarment. Panties, he remembers. Even better — or worse. Primus, it's unwashed.

His optics droop as the musky scent hits. Shoulders, once taut, now relaxed, helm hitting the berth as he groans. It was soft. Much too soft agains this hand, against his face. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He had only known, however, was the fact that he’s not himself. And a pull of something so minuscule, an organic fabric of all things, that reeled him senseless of thoughts is ridiculous.

He’s breached at least several protocols in the Autobot Code. Even behind closed doors in the confines of his own quarters, he had already crossed a line by invading your privacy. Invading your trust.

A simple patrol along the halls had his pedes roosted by your doorsteps. The Organic barracks. Female, too. After all, he was the one who fixed your lock when it broke (hm, yeah, wonder why) — so it doesn’t come off as a surprise when the officer is spotted dawdling in front of your room.

Initially, he’ll do a quick inspection and leave. But the door. It was wide open. A quick peek wouldn’t hurt, right? He just needed to, ah, yes, needed to see if anyone had messed with your belongings. Theft is a big, big concern these days. (Wheeljack would know, he’s been stealing Nitric Acid from medbay without fail. )

And, it does. It made him stuff a handful of your panties into his sub space. Made his pedes skim across the halls until he’s in his own quarters — doing whatever the hell he is doing now : eyes shut, lower regions pressured and uncomfortable.

Prowl never denies. He never denies his guilt because that would mean his calculations are proven innacurate. A faulty assumption. A mistake. And here’s the thing is— he never makes a mistake. So, he chalks it up to illusion when he thinks about you. A reason to justify the means of being a scumbag.

You’re pretty. Nice. That’s all there is to it. He knows he’s lonely so he’s filling up the void. It’s nothing deep. As soon as tomorrow comes, he’ll avoid you. Avoid you like he’s not fisting his spike, conjuring up images, wondering how you’d feel against him as he’s rutting up your soft flesh.

How your ankles would hook over his shoulders. How your sweet face would contort, lips, pretty and soft kissing up his shaft.His servos on your hips as he rolls his own, watching the spike pushing up against your cunt— in and out, slick and throbbing. How would you sound? Soft? Guttural? Loud? Would you bite your fist when he’s too rough?

Prowl groans, re-positioning the fabric over his spike. It had become too slick, purple transfluid blotching the pink a more creamy mauve and his other servo comes to stifle his moans.

He’s not getting any sleep tonight.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

This might be a bit of an uncomfortable topic, but do you feel that Kate's cancer diagnosis has changed the Sussex PR strategy?

I'm seeing a lot less olive branches, and less of that kind of PR overall. It stopped the "royal racist" line of attack stone cold dead.

Where do the Sussex go from here - if you care to offer an educated guess based on tracking new rumors and PR analysis - when they can't take potshots at their favorite target?

Yes and no.

Yes, the racist royal storyline has definitely been dropped, but I don't think it was exclusively because of Kate's illness. I think it was because of the hot mess Scobie (and Meghan) got into with the Dutch translation of Endgame leaking out; the only way that they could rescue themselves was if the racist royal story was dropped completely, and then Kate was sick right after and someone had a tiny sliver of humanity to know better. (My theory is that it was WME who knew better, because Sussex Squad was still going all in on kkkate.)

No, because the olive branch and reconciliation stories are still out there. It's just Harry being the face of those stories this time (they were Meghan's stories a bit before this) and they're spinning it in a "we just want to support them and help however we can" kind of way. I think the difference why this round of olive branches and reconciliation isn't getting any traction is because William and KP has done a very good job making it unequivocally clear - through leaks, through the rota, through their reactions to Charles's trial balloons - that the Waleses do not reciprocate the desire for reconciliation because they have other, more urgent, more bigger things to focus on at the moment...like health matters.

As for when they'll fire up the Kate cannon again, well, it depends by what you mean. Sussex Squad has already been fired up, each time Kate makes an appearance. They make comments on social media, which then gets picked up by the blogs and the royal rota, of things like "hmm, she can go to Wimbledon in a designer dress but she can't go to a cancer charity" or "that's a fake lookalike because her smile is different" or "look at that line on her face, that's definitely a facelift scar" or "suuuuuuuuuure, she's getting chemo because look at all that hair" or "she's really faking that smile, she absolutely hates standing next to William, they're definitely divorcing." And they'll continue making these comments every time Kate makes a public appearance because that's what they do.

If you mean when will Harry and Meghan specifically say something that targets/attacks Kate? I don't know. It could be the fall, if they see William back on his "regular" schedule but Kate is still convalescing; they could make a dig at Kate thinking William won't notice. It could be after Kate has the all-clear and is able to resume working (because the optics of beating up on a cancer patient in the media definitely isn't good, let alone a cancer patient as well-loved as Kate is). It could be if/when the Sussexes becomes desperate enough for new attention from the BRF or William.

I do feel pretty confident saying that one of the reasons the Waleses are being very careful about Kate's day-to-day is because she worsens with stress. And if there's one thing everyone knows about the Sussexes, it's that they cause, and add to, stress everywhere they go and no one wants to take the risk of the Sussexes adding to Kate's stress and triggering flare-ups. (Because my takeaway from Rebecca's article isn't that Kate was sick for weeks or months before they planned surgery, she was actually suffering for years, like maybe it was a chronic condition she could manage by avoiding triggers and it just became critically urgent in January to address.)

So I would speculate that the Sussexes might be a little more hands-off regarding their use of Kate in the media until she's fully back full-time but they'll use Sussex Squad to poke and poke and poke in the meantime.

But we'll see. Things can always change.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Darling proficient in martial arts… their yandere could be a competitor, team member, coach, fan, nurse/physical therapist… imagine it’d be quite difficult to subdue someone who spends hours every day training in self-defense and maybe practicing with weapons~! Or maybe their yandere would just enjoy getting beat to a pulp?

By some types of martial arts:

In martial arts like karate, practitioners are encouraged to maintain an intense degree of self-control. Actually striking an opponent with force to injure is grounds for automatic disqualification in a sparring match, and even outside matches, you’re encouraged to be patient and avoid conflict as much as possible. A particularly spiteful yandere could probably ruin a country- or world-class athlete’s reputation if their Darling beat them up, and they knew how to spin the optics in their favor…

Martial artists like boxers and MMA fighters get injured a lot. A competitor or team member could go damn-near all out on anyone that threatens you in the ring (or their chance to fight you themself…), with an audience cheering them on as they do it. I mean, sure, the refs would hate them but it’s not like they care 🤷. Also an incredibly good setup for a nurse/medic yan. Just don’t think too hard about what they do with all the bloody gauze afterwards.

It’s also kind of funny to imagine wrestling, with the yan being a huge fuckin heel and a face Darling who genuinely dislikes them (but of course, everybody thinks their distaste is just part of the show).

By the dynamic:

Rivals are a fucking classic, and for good reason. “You’re the only one worthy of facing me.” Obsession masked as hatred, leaning in close to trash talk but failing to hide their glance at your lips… Maybe they stalk you under the guise of trying to catch you doping and cheating ‘cause they can’t accept that you’re really just that good. Losing to you while their heartbeat, quick with anger and shame, begins to beat quickly for different reasons as you stand over them and gloat, or maybe you choose to offer your hand to help them up… Besting you in competition, feeling self-satisfied and smug— or maybe they feel empty, unsatisfied— “go practice some more and try me again.” Bonus points for silliness if this whole dramatic rivalry is between a Yan and a Darling who both objectively suck at the sport

Team members/fellow students for the casual intimacy of training together, of booking hotel rooms to share for out-of-state competitions. Sharing water bottles when one of you forgets (and if you’re not forgetful, they certainly will be 🤭). Maybe they’re better at the sport than you, and so they have the responsibility to help train and guide you, or maybe it’s the opposite, and you have a cute newbie clinging to your every word and instruction. They’d certainly stalk you too, studying your routine like a rival might, though they’re certain down to their bones you can’t be cheating! You must have some special routine that makes you so strong— like extra workouts, or certain foods you eat! Extra points for angst and cognitive dissonance if Darling actually is a fuckin cheat lol

Coach/Instructor for that sweet, sweet power imbalance. Maybe they’re extra strict with you because they can see your potential. Maybe they’re extra lax ‘cause of their gigantic soft spot for you, and the other students resent the special treatment you get. Coach overseeing your training personally, instructing you, watching you run laps and do push-ups. They like watching you get all sweaty and out of breath from training. And the little strained noises you make when stretching are just too cute! It’s a little too easy for them to touch you under the guises of correcting your form, or helping you stretch. They’d barely have to stalk you, especially if you were a world-class athlete— they’d be in charge of your schedule anyway. Workouts, meals, competitions, trips, all under their control~!

[odinsblog]

So I was at an after work business function this evening (because networking, free food and free alcohol), when this happened:

These functions are blindingly white, but hey, I paid my fees for membership + attendance, so I always try to put in some face time. And ordinarily, these monthly meetings are wonderfully apolitical, but today a white woman and man were having a very loud conversation in the middle of the great hall and unfortunately you couldn’t help but hear everything they were saying.

Her: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. HOW COULD THAT HAPPEN? A 20 year old kid with a gun was able to just walk through Secret Service security and set up on a rooftop unnoticed? How the hell did that happen?

Him: I don’t know , but I’ll tell you this - somewhere out there, there’s an angel with a bullet hole on his wings

Her: I knowww!! Just one inch closer and he would be dead. We really avoided a real tragedy

Him: I still can’t wrap my head around how some young kid was able to get past the Secret Service. With a gun!! It doesn’t make any sense

And the two of them went on and on like this for what felt like decades, but in reality it probably wasn’t much longer than 3 or 4 minutes

Anyway, I’m focusing on my free liquor and trying to ignore this white foolishness. And just then, I spot another Black person there. A woman. From halfway across the room, our eyes locked and we both were rolling our eyes and shaking our heads ever so slightly. She knew what was up and it was disgusting her too

And as chance would have it, the two people had meandered closer to me, and the woman goes, “Can you believe it? How the hell did he get so close without anyone stopping him?”

Now I’m not a bomb thrower. Not at work where my livelihood and my ability to get new clients depends heavily on being able to play well with others, right? So I somehow managed to deflect the question without really saying anything. But then she asks me again, and maybe it was all the free alcohol talking, so for whatever reason, I answered her question very directly: “I wonder, do you think that an openly armed 20yr old Black man would have gone completely unnoticed by the Secret Service?”

It felt like everyone in the room stopped talking

But by now I was well lubricated, and I was in my (political) element, and I was ready to do this conversation if the two of them persisted. But surprisingly, she didn’t say a word and just walked away. The guy lingered for a few moments before walking off in the other direction, but not before I heard him muttering something about “always bringing race into everything” … but I let it go. They both had finally stfu and they were leaving, so as far as I’m concerned, I was winning

Look, unless something is seriously going off the rails, there’s a lot that I won’t discuss in professional business settings. It’s just not smart for most Black professionals, and it exposes you to unnecessary risks (either you know or you don’t know: no cussing, no yelling, lest you get charged with being an “angry” Black man. Always gotta control yourself and be constantly aware of optics)

But it’s never surprising but always disappointing when supposedly educated white people don’t ever consider how race in America is almost ALWAYS a factor—the race of the attacker, the race of the victim, etc. and the way that too many white people expect that their experiences and beliefs are universal beliefs and experiences. Talk about insularity and a lack of self awareness

And lol, when she approached and initially addressed me, I instantaneously decided in that moment that I wouldn’t take the bait if she asked me if I thought it was a near “tragedy”

Anyway, wild huh?

[writerwithnofreetime]

Try Again

Pairing: Law x black!fem reader 

College! au 

You and Law were both willing participants in a summer fling that turned sour. You make it your life's mission (for three months) to make him regret tossing you to the wayside so carelessly. It all comes to a head at this party. 

wc: 4.025k

cw: mentions of alcohol, inebriation, smoking (weed and cigs), i say vape smoke like once, shit gets angsty at the end, crying 

a/n: this one is for my college girls :). I was planning on writing an Ace x reader, but I found a random draft and the spirit of Law took over me lol. I got way too into this, so I plan on turning it into a series (hopefully max 5-6 parts). Please please pleasee! Feel free to give me feedback and let me know how you feel about certain writing choices/ plot points. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Part 1- The idgaf War

He was not expecting to see you here. 

You knew it. You were counting on it. Law most likely remembers you as the super introverted girl who’d much rather stay inside with a glass of wine and a good book than go out partying with friends. You knew he viewed you as a fledgling of a woman, too naïve to be taken seriously.

It should also be known that all the heaviness in the atmosphere that contained you and Mr. Trafalgar (is what you called him in your head, using his first name feels far too intimate than he deserves) was mainly his doing. You always knew he existed. He was a friend of a friend of a friend, and you would see him out now and then, but there was no reason to speak to one another. The two of you officially met at a train station during the summer. After a week of sharing the frustration that train delays brought, he came up with the idea to exchange numbers. To- you know, let each other know about the status of the train. After a week of turning texts like ‘trains five minutes late’ into conversations about anything from tastes to relationship statuses, he suggested you guys catch dinner together.

Thus began a summer whirlwind romance, which swiftly swirled its way into a tornado as the fall semester's start was approaching. Law, who was interning at a hospital seemed increasingly busy at times he had previously allotted for you. He canceled plans he made. Phone calls went from once a day at lunch to twice a week- if you were lucky- at odd hours. You had no idea what to make of the situation, other than look at the optics and realize that you would be left in the cold if things went on this way. You made the call to end things, and to your dismay, he agreed. Although your fear had played a pivotal hand in the way fate fell, it could have been sated if the asshole had offered a sliver of reassurance at that moment. The two of you agreed to stay friends, but neither of you meant it. 

Staying friends was code for ‘let’s still follow each other on social media and kind of act like nothing happened, though we’ve seen each other's bare asses.’ It would be much easier to play it cool than to explain to any of your mutual friends why the two of you might not want to be around each other. 

The recluse version of you had played the front for 90 days so this plan would be most fruitful. To social media- and by proxy, Law- you were busy attending class, working, and studying. When you would post a selfie (semi-rare), Law would like it but never felt compelled enough to text you. Maybe the reminder of how gorgeous you were wasn’t enough for him. 

There was the possibility the two of you would run into each other, yet you accounted for this. It pained you, but you avoided the quaint cafe you introduced him to that quickly became your guys’ spot. The cafe (Puddings’) was not your favorite- you were smarter than that- but a former safe space. You also passed up on several parties and random outings Nami or any other of your friends invited you to if you so much as got an inkling he would show up.

Only you knew that those 90 days you went unseen were preparation for this month. You planned for this night to be the season finale of the fiasco that was you and Law’s (situational) relationship, and you would go out with a bang. For 90 days, you planned, scrapped, replanned outfits, and worked out ferociously. You salivated at the thought of this night. Your objective was simple- you would pop out looking like a knockout and the realization that he fucked up would hit Mr. Trafalgar so hard he would spontaneously combust. 

D-day was a party your buddy Luffy was throwing. Nami, one of your closest college friends was adamant that you made an appearance tonight, complaining about how long it’d been since everyone was together. You didn’t object. Luffy was known for throwing the best parties in the area, especially after winning a big boxing match. You knew of Luffy through Nami (his manager) who told you Law had recently become a part of Luffys medical crew for the biggest fight of his career thus far- against some guy named Doflamingo. He would be present for this party, even if only to stand on a random wall with his arms folded like Nami described on one of your Facetime calls a while back. 

Since you were here, like this, Law knew that it only meant one thing: A declaration of war. The scales were already tipped in your favor. Your armor of choice tonight was the tightest little black dress in your closet and a pair of black Converse. The dress had a square neckline and showed just enough of your chest, and if anyone got close enough, they'd see the frills from the lacy white bra you wore underneath. Your hair was piled on top of your head in a perfectly picked puff, with face-framing coils on either side of your face, right in front of your ears. Your lips were glossed clear and your makeup simple- the embodiment of cute and casual. To others, it always appeared like you were effortlessly beautiful. Mr. Trafalgar probably thought you didn’t know how to wield your beauty like a sword, to make him kneel at your feet with an offhanded glance. But he was going to learn very soon.

The smell of weed, vape smoke, and booze slapped you in the face as you made your way into the function. The two Buzzballs you pre-gamed with hit you halfway into your Uber trip, so the flush of party wind was disorienting. You pushed- well shimmied, it was pretty packed- on. Clung to your left shoulder was a small black purse with your necessities- lipgloss, debit card, ID, and some dum dums (real bad bitches keep candy in their purse). In your right hand is the unopened bottle of Bacardi Tropical you promised Nami and Vivi to bring. 

It didn’t take long to find them in the kitchen area of the party, with the usual crew- Luffy, whom you heard before you saw, solo cup raised with his signature smile. Sanji has a cigarette in his mouth, a blunt behind his ear (you would question him about that later), and a pretty brunette under his arm you hadn’t seen before (typical). Zoro is leaning against the counter closest to Luffy chatting with…. Law? Well, you couldn’t see the dickheads face, but you knew damn well that was the back of Law's head you were looking at. You smiled devilishly to yourself. This was just the situation you were expecting. You stride over and greet your friends. 

“Y/n!” Luffy exclaimed as soon as you set the bottle on the counter by the other ones. “I’m glad you could make it!” He put an arm around you and smiled even wider. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” You giggled. Luffy is always great vibes when you’re around him. 

“Yeah, I guess I have been a bit mia…” You trail off with a playful smile. Nami yanks Luffy’s arm, chastising him for almost spilling whatever was in his cup on you. Vivi laughs and greets you with a hug. Sanji introduces you to the girl you know for a fact he met no longer than a week ago as the ‘love of his life”. Her name is Viola and she has your blond-haired friend wrapped around her finger. Someone taps your shoulder, and as you turn to see who, your eyes transiently focus on Mr.Traflagar’s visage. It was hard to tell if he was looking at you, the brim of his hat was pulled pretty low tonight. His face was facing yours. It was pretty dark, but you noticed his lip twitch into a scowl as he took the joint from Zoro’s hand. Law clearly senses the bloodlust in your demeanor. You quickly adjust your gaze to the person who requested your attention.

“If I knew you were bringing more liquor, I would’ve texted you. We ran out of sake about thirty minutes into the party,” Zoro says, peering at you with an easy grin. You roll your eyes and display a cheeky smile of your own.

“Oh, please. You’ll drink anything you get your hands on so shut up, and let's take some shots.” You turn to face the counter full of liquor and grab a cup. Zoro moves past you and fills his cup with the Bacardi you just brought. Nami forces him to pour a shot for the girls before he makes off with the rest. The four of you cheer, then lean your heads back to take sips (in Zoros' case, gulps) of the vodka. 

The burn produces heat in your throat, forcing you to part your lips and exhale. However, it seemed the side of your head would catch fire long before your windpipe. Maybe the incoming tipsiness had you imagining things, but you swear you could feel his eyes on you, dancing across your body and soaking up your frame. Still, you refused to acknowledge his presence. 

No one has noticed that the area y’all are conjugating in had suddenly become a war zone, let alone the blaze emanating from Law’s stare. Your target was now to your immediate right since you and Zoro had traded places. Zoro and Luffy are going shot for shot, entertaining Nami and Vivi. Sanji and his new lover had quietly disappeared after you all took a shot together. 

“Y/n.” He said it loud enough for you to hear it over the music, but it wasn’t like he was raising his voice. His tone was firm and even, and clearly laced with the influence of weed. It seemed to ring in your ears and vibrate in your brain.

You faced him and scanned his countenance with your eyes. He looked… okay. Fine, more than okay. He looked the fuck good. He wore a black hoodie with a white top underneath, his favorite pair of jeans, and black Jordans. There was a decent amount of space between the two of you, but you were close enough to see that he was, in fact checking you out, with his eyes trained on your ass in particular. Shit, it was poking in this dress, which was the defining factor in you choosing it tonight.

You quickly downed the rest of your cup.

“Trafalgar,” you replied cooly, not faltering under his punitive gaze. Seriously. Law looked genuinely bothered by your presence. He was squinting at you, almost as if you were some mirage. The look in his eye made your chest burn with feelings you were actively trying to suppress. Still, he would not win this battle of wills. Not when you knew that simply being here was enough to ruin his night. You craned your head to the side and gave him an easy smile. A smile that you know for certain would weaken his composure. 

It strikes him, you’re sure—his right eye twitches.

“I…..” he trails off, scanning your figure again. You clear your throat and turn to face him. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here tonight.” 

The statement stunned you because it was exactly what you wanted. It also seemed- dangerously honest?  Law was never this forthcoming in the past. He’s the liar-by-omission, roundabout truth-telling type. What is he playing at? You glance at him, brows furrowed.

“Why wouldn’t I be here? Luffy and I are good friends.”

“You weren’t at the match.”

“I couldn’t make it. Besides, I’m here now, having a great time with my friends.” The two of you hold a gaze. Law parted his lips but quickly decided against whatever he was going to say. A chuckle escapes you. “Aren’t we friends, Mr. Trafalgar?”

He raises a brow at the use of his surname. 

“No,” He says after a ten-second pause. He takes one step toward you, and you have half a mind to help him bridge the gap. “I’m not your friend y/n.” His tone is resolute and his eyes, though half-lidded, reflect the same. 

The closeness of his voice resurfaces dangerous memories. Heat rose in your cheeks and the pit of your stomach, but you would not let that control you. You steadied yourself, remembering why you were in this position in the first place. How easy it was for Law to distance himself from you after the night the two of you almost crossed the line. How he responded to your rant at Zepplins with ‘ if that’s what you think is best for you’ then immediately left when you told him you wanted to end things. The text he sent you after saying the two of you would always ‘be cool’. He didn’t fight for you then, so he doesn’t get to make you horny now.  You smile sweetly, but the sentiment turns sour by the time it reaches your eyes. He recoils at the look. 

“Good,” you say warmly. There was more you could say, more you wanted to say, but you knew it would sting more if you kept it short. You spin around, not wanting to spend another moment looking into the asshole's eyes. You rejoin your friends' conversation as if you have never been missing. 

Zoro pours too much tequila into your cup, and you can’t even be bothered to scold him for it. You immediately down half and chase it with a Gatorade, hoping that the electrolytes will be enough to save you from a hangover in the morning. Zoro glances at you, one brow raised.

“You okay there?” Your moss-haired friend has always been extremely perceptive. You press your lips together and nod your head.

“I’m great. I just want to make the most of tonight.” He looks at you again, straight-faced. Zoro’s not buying your shit, but he won't pry any further. Not tonight at least. His eyes focus just past you, then back on you again. “What?”

He raises his cups to his lips to hide his smirk as he nods in Law’s direction. You feel your cheeks burn and a finger at your shoulder, followed by the side of Law’s head. You refuse to move anything but your eyes. Zoro turns around to give the two of you as much privacy as possible. 

“Y/n,” Law starts. His breath is heavy in your ears and his voice reaches every part of you. “I get the feeling if I don’t ask you to speak to me now, I’ll never hear from you again. Please, talk to me.” You lift your chin and pout in frustration. Law wasn’t playing fair. He straightens himself as you turn to face him, arms folded.

“You want to do this right now?” 

“Not here.” You squint. “On the porch.” He adds. You shrug at him and Law visibly relaxes. Two gulps emptied the contents of your cup. You grab a water bottle and previously opened Gatorade and make your way out of the party. Nami and Vivi catch you on your way out. You tell them you were going to get some air. They ask if you want company, but you shake your head and stride out of the party into the night air. Not once do you look back to see if Law is following behind you, though you hear his footsteps once under the plywood of the porch. 

Luckily for you two, there was no one outside- at least anyone who would care to listen in on this conversation. You move to the ledge and wait for Law to join you. You soak in the ambiance around you as you take sips of water. It was pretty, the audio blend of the bass and drums from the party mixed in with the night sounds. There was a light breeze you let wash over you as you closed your eyes. Law clears his throat, but you remain as is. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” You were not fucking fine. You’re racking your brain for a strategy, or any indication of how he would play it. This was a shocking turn of events. The Law you accounted for would never draw you out of a party to talk, where several eyes could witness. You played with the cap of the bottles you placed on the ledge. 

“Is it too much to ask you to look at me?” 

“Yes.” Law sighs. You place your hand on your chin and glance at him. He takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his messy waves before pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks up and his grey orbs widen, shocked that yours are staring back at his. 

Fuck it, you thought. I’ll just do whatever I want tonight and pretend it never happened later. 

You bit the inside of your cheek as the silence pressed against the two of you. The tension was so palpable you could see the air currents moving between you. You wish you could grasp it and throw it across the street.

“Y/n….” He straightens up and leans against a support beam. 

You followed his movement with your eyes. “How many times are you going to say my name?” 

He chuckles and looks up from the brim of his hat in his hands directly to you. The sincerity in his eyes softens your heart. 

“I know what I’m about to say might be too late, but please. I need to tell you this.” His words made you straighten up and turn to face him, fingers awkwardly drumming at your sides. The both of you were clearly out of your element here. Law clears his throat and continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push you away back then. I’m sorry. After that night when we almost-”

“You don’t have to say it”

He rubs his shoulder with this free hand. “Yeah, sorry. Listen y/n, it wasn’t your fault. I panicked. I don’t know. I knew then that I liked you way more than I felt I should have, and I didn’t want to. I don’t know why- maybe fear- I don’t know. I just,” he exhales. “I thought that if I let you any closer, it would devastate me if I lost you. I didn’t account for losing you when I was icing you out. I wasn’t thinking about how my actions would affect you, only about saving myself. Leaving without talking about it was a big mistake, and I knew it as soon as I got up. But I couldn’t let you in back then. I was…. terrified.” 

The heaviness of the indignation boiled and anviled inside your bosom. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides. Tears prickled at your eyes, but you refused to let any fall. You refuse to hide your pain either.

“Law, I-” you started, unconsciously stepping towards him. “ I don’t believe you. This doesn’t make sense to me.” He raised his arms slightly as if to grab you, but lowered them again as his face studied yours.

“I- I know.”

“No, you don’t know.” you took another step. “Why didn’t you tell me this when I told you how I felt that day? Or any moment after that? You-” Your fist was raised, and two tears fell down one side of your face. “How dare you come and tell me you let me go because you were terrified! You? I thought you didn’t care about me. I thought you discarded me because we didn’t-” You were holding back sobs at this point, and your fists weakly hit Law's shoulders with every sentence. “You made me- I- I felt.” 

He pulls you into his arms and you collapse—everything you held inside escapes you in the form of silent tears against his hoodie. The faint smell of his cologne and weed fills your nose. You were too overwhelmed by the release to be ashamed of yourself for crying in his arms like this. Law presses you tightly as he whispers a slew of apologies into your ear. You honestly don’t know if you believe him. Right now, it didn’t matter. 

Laws hold felt like a steady anchor in the new waters that was the vulnerability between the two of you. He presses his lips to your forehead and you pull away slightly to look up at him. He grimaces and pulls away a little more, using his hoodie to dab at your eyes. 

“Fuck, y/n. I-” He pauses. “I don’t want to keep apologizing. I know it doesn’t do much for you. But it’s tearing me apart inside that I made you feel like this. I fucked up.” You inhale sharply.

“Yeah,” you whisper. Law lifts your chin to his gaze. You could see that a few tears had escaped him as well. You lifted your hand to his jaw, which clenched slightly at your touch. 

“I missed you so much, y/n.” You sniffled as you looked at his lips, suddenly wanting to watch his mouth formulate every word. You were soaking in this new side of Law, not caring about its potential expiration date. You ran your thumb over the outer corner of his eye, wiping away the wetness that gathered there. 

The sound of police alarms pierced through the night and the tender moment. You jump away from each other as Lieutenant Garp slams his car door and walks up the porch. 

“Evening, L/n.” He looks to Law and furrows his brows a bit. “Trafalgar.” His eyes train back on you, a bit of surprise mixed in them.

“Uh-”

“I suggest the two of you get ahead of the crowd that’s about to disperse and call for your rides now. This party is over.”

“Uh, okay.” Garp walks away from the two of you and into the party of unsuspecting youth. You chuckle and shake your head, wishing you could be inside to witness the conversation Luffy and his grandfather would have. You’re sure Nami will tell you the next day. You turn back to Law, who had jumped back a respectable distance at the sight of Garp. His hat was already back on his head and he tapped at his phone screen awhile before looking at you”

“I’ll call you an Uber home.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Correction,” he interrupts. “I’ve already called you an Uber home. It’s ten minutes out.” Your body temperature went up five degrees. 

“Well, thanks.” He shrugs and looks off to the side, his jaw clenched again. Another five degrees. You pull at your dress and play with a pebble under your foot.

“Y/n,” Law starts, commanding your gaze back to his. “I know I don’t deserve it, but please, let me make it up to you. I want to try again. I want to do it right this time.” 

“Law…” He shook his head.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. Text me when you get home safe. Goodnight.” He plants a quick peck on your forehead. Before you can respond, you hear Vivi call out your name from the doorway as the crew approaches you. When you look back in Law's direction you find his spot vacant. He disappeared in the growing crowd. You pull your phone out of your purse and two notifications stand out.

The first is the Uber details.

The other- is a text from Law’s Number. You deleted his contact in anger in August, but that combination of digits is burned into your memory. 

hey, it’s law.  sorry for stealing a kiss. couldnt help myself. brunch on me at Puddings tomorrow to make up for it. text me when you get home. please 

[melishade]

Attack on Prime: Autobot Anthology "Matrix of Leadership"

Main Story

Lobbing

Ice Skating

Comfort

This was brought up by a guest reviewer under the name of 'Svecz Dávid' and it was something I should have brought up but kept on forgetting so thank you for that!

This will take place just before chapter 77 in AOP.

Wheeljack was tightening the screws on the panel of the Jackhammer while Arcee was looking over their datapad in silence. As Wheeljack finished fixing up the Jackhammer, a thought occurred to him.

"'Cee," Wheeljack called for her, "A thought occurs."

Arcee hummed absentmindedly, browsing through some old Cybertronian literature.

"Why didn't we ask Prime to show us the Matrix of Leadership?" Wheeljack asked, "That's like...the biggest evidence he could even provide."

Arcee raised her helm to process Wheeljack's question. Her optics narrowed at the thought, and when the realization finally came to her, she covered her face in shame.

"Primus below! We are so fragging stupid!" Arcee yelled, her servos muffling her voice. Wheeljack just started cackled, finding the whole situation hilarious.

==

"The what of what?" Sasha asked in confusion as Hanji began flipping through their notes.

"The..." Arcee grimaced a little, ashamed to even admit her own failure in this, "Matrix of Leadership."

"Ancient relic, ultra powerful tool of the Primes, only thing that would even make a Prime a legit Prime," Wheeljack listed.

"The collective wisdom of the Primes." Hanji read, "If the device is removed from the holder or relinquished, the holder could suffer amnesia with no ability to remember their time without the Matrix of said Matrix is restored."

Everyone looked at Hanji in surprise.

"Commander, how do you know that?" Eren asked.

"Oh, I eavesdropped on Optimus' little history lesson to you years ago," Hanji answered casually.

"Commander," Optimus scolded.

"Erwin asked for information on you and who was I to defy orders," Hanji reasoned.

"You would have gotten that info regardless if Erwin told you," Levi shot back.

"Maybe." Hanji shrugged.

"You also called the Matrix a 'parasite'?" Armin leaned backwards to see the notes that Hanji had written on the subject matter.

"Yeah, I stand by that," Hanji declared.

"What does this have to do with Optimus?" Mikasa asked Arcee.

"If Optimus actually has the Matrix, then we can't assume that he's a fake," Arcee groaned in shame, ducking her helm a little to avoid eye contact.

The Survey Corps was quiet for a moment before Jean spoke up. "Are you fucking serious?!"

"Jean," Optimus warned.

"No! What the hell?! This whole tension bullshit could have been avoided if they had just asked about it in the first place!" Jean yelled.

"All those months of tensions and stand offs!" Connie lamented.

"Look it slipped our minds, okay?!" Arcee exclaimed, "We figured the Star Saber was the best way to go because Optimus was the only one who could pick it up! Anyone can take the Matrix for themselves or make a copy of the fragging thing!"

"Arcee is right," Optimus spoke up.

"Don't defend her!" Levi ordered.

"There have been false primes in the past who have tried to forge a fake Matrix in order to gain political power," Optimus explained, "But the Matrix has to be granted to the holder by Primus. He is the one who held the Matrix in the core of Cybertron."

"And Primus is..," Sasha trailed off.

"Uh...god." Wheeljack pondered the right words.

The 104th tilted their heads towards Optimus.

"You've met god?!" Jean asked.

"That's another story for another day." Levi shut down, already getting a headache at the implications of Prime's long-winded life, "Prime, why the hell didn't you show the Matrix in the first place?!"

"The Matrix is within my chassis. If I opened my chassis, I would be exposing the Matrix and my spark, and Arcee and Wheeljack were already mistrusting of me. I did not want to put myself in danger like that," Optimus explained.

Wheeljack rubbed the back of his helm. "Fair."

"I suppose...I don't trust people...easily," Arcee grumbled.

"So...Are we going to see it, or-!" Hanji's question was answered when they all heard and saw the mechanics of Optimus' chassis move. The plating had folded in on itself, and when it was completed, everyone saw a strange device locked and planted in his chest. It looked like some shards of energon were inside of an incomplete golden sphere. The sphere itself was surrounded by a rectangular outline of silver metal. There were some other mechanics and parts that none of them could recognize, no doubt part of Optimus' biology, but the reactions on Arcee and Wheeljack's faces were more than enough.

Wheeljack pointed at Optimus' open chassis before glancing at Arcee. "That looks pretty real. Between the forge and the Allspark container, ancient relics tend to have some kind of vibe."

Arcee raised an eyebrow at that. "A vibe?"

"Yeah, a 'do not touch' vibe." Wheeljack justified his reasoning.

Optimus merely closed his chassis before crossing his arms in response. "Does that give you some form of closure?"

Arcee nodded her helm. "It does."

"Oh thank god! We're finally past this bullshit!" Eren crumpled in relief.

"Well there's still Bu-!"

Eren clamped his hand over Connie's mouth. "Past. It."

Hanji blinked when they realized what Connie was talking about: Megatron. There was still going to be tension about him regardless. Things might have become a little calmer, but...a thought occurred. One that they wanted to ask the former warlord when he comes by later.

==

Later

"No new updates?" Hanji asked in their office. They were sitting on top their desk, legs swinging back and forth.

"No," Megatron answered them in his human form, "Everything's been stagnant as of late. I have no new tasks for Lionheart as of now."

"Hm. Well, I guess if something urgent comes up, let me know," Hanji said, "Wait! One more thing!"

"What?" Megatron hissed.

"I'm certain you know what the Matrix of Leadership is," Hanji began.

"...I'm not telling you what I know." Megatron crossed his arms.

"You don't need to. That thing is a parasite, but that's not what I wanted to ask," Hanji insisted, "Wheeljack and Arcee asked about the Matrix because they explained that it's what makes a true Prime."

"So?"

"You didn't ask about it," Hanji proclaimed, "Ever since you came here, you didn't ask Optimus to show the Matrix to prove his identity. You didn't question Optimus at all. For someone so mistrustful of everyone and everything, you trusted completely that Optimus was Optimus."

Megatron mouthed form a thin line. "You want to know why."

Hanji nodded.

"....." Megatron knew he shouldn't say anything, but he knew it was going to be a question Hanji wouldn't shut up about. How much could he say where it wouldn't compromise him too much?

"I don't have to tell you my business." Megatron decided to go on the offensive. He didn't need to tell them.

"Ugh, Megatron." Hanji rolled their eyes, "Don't make me guess."

"Goodbye," Megatron bid them farewell and deactivated the holoform. Hanji sighed and rested their cheeks on their hands.

"Grumpy asshole," Hanji grumbled.

Megatron continued to fly north, assuming the Autobots weren't at the neutral ship. But...the Commander was right. He didn't question that it was Optimus. Not even for a second.

Well...he had nothing left. If Optimus was who he said he was, then he can try to make amends with him. If Optimus wasn't who he said he was, what more did he even have to lose?

(It was literally hope and desperation driving him that he didn't question Optimus about the Matrix. Anyway, thanks Svecz Dávid for the idea.)

[gouinisme]

I see your “something is wrong with the Dyers” post and raise you the fact that Alice is canonically trans (as stated by Mr J Newall) in a reply on here

The Dyer name found in the Magnus spreadsheet is probably most likely Alice’s deadname

Plus I feel that that would cover some of her previous experience with the Horrors, and that it’s not just her experience at the OIAR. She might be parallel to Jon and how he was skeptical as a defense mechanism

Thoughts?

yeah that's why i said a "potential third" cuz i'm kinda taking both possibilities into account. at first i was 100% on the "alice was in the magnus institute" train and thought maybe the reason she didn't remember anything about it is she was "chosen" unlike sam and gerry.

i still like the theory cuz i've been hoping alice isn't a mortal since the beginning, with her flying so many death flags and mostly with the line "i was born down here and i'll die down here" but probably not being a killable character given she's 1/ one of the two announced protags and 2/ the first trans character in magnus. and one way she would be a not mortal is if the magnus institute had experimented on her. plus i believe jonny sims said if tma is asks "what is a monster" then tmagp asks "what is a person" which is probably mostly about the computer guys but might be applicable to a non human alice

but i've seen some people comment on the optics of centering a plot point on a character's deadname and while i don't think that's necessarily a bad thing to do (depending on how it's handled by writers) i think the writers might have avoided it. so now i don't really think alice is that kid anymore

so yeah. tldr: idk so i put potential to cover all bases

[sylvanas-girlkisser]

Rumored Arcane S2 characters and how likely I (the queen of the universe) think they are to actually show up.

Warwick Already been confirmed, I expect the werewolf!Vi AU on my desk in 2 weeks.

Renata Glasc Somebody has to take over now that Silco is gone, and seeing as she is just kind of capitalist Silco, she would make sense as an escalation of tension. Someone who can present herself as both the reasonable choice to Piltover, and the revolutionary choice to Zaun - also the Zaun logo is literally based on her company.

That said there is some argument to be made that she is too similar to Silco, and they might avoid her for that reason, but I just take that to mean Jinx is about to have her face caressed by an manipulative cougar in a suit.

Camille With how likely I think it is Renata is to show up, I can't imagine Riot being cool enough to give us to evil cougars in one season. That said I've been wrong (we don't talk about the firelights theory), so maybe they'll do like, a tale of two milfs. With the way S1 ended, it would make sense that someone like Camille would step in and take control of Piltover.

Ooh maybe they'll do like a thing with her being like what Caitlyn is going to end up like unless she stops seeing the world as black and white? that could be cool.

Seraphine She's probably gonna have a cameo singing one of the songs, but nothing more than that.

Urgot I know that for a while they were trying to set Urgot and Vi up as fated enemies, but i dunno, they kinda already did that with Sevika so meh.

Corina Veraza I feel like if they don't do Renata they're gonna do Corina, to be like, Caitlyn's Sevika. I have a hard time imagining them doing both in the same season, just for the optics of like: "we added a few new characters, including two different WoC who each run a criminal empire".

Zilean In the hopes that S2 is gonna be more Ekko-centric and have a storyline about him building the Z-Drive, I think it would be cool to have him hang out with Zilean for a bit. Then again, it does feel like Heimerdinger has already claimed the spot as Ekko's Yoda so 🤷‍♀️

Rell So look, I know it's based around a crack theory that Rell and Mel are sisters, which doesn't really make sense with the timeline. And I know that if they brought in Rell they would then also have to explain the Black Rose and Swain's rebellion and probably BS but listen:

It would really add to the already dysfunctional family dynamic, to have miss "I'll twist Noxus until it snaps" hanging out at the dinner table; just absolutely no chance of going 5 minutes without a shouting match.

It would also mean there was a chance of the good ship Relljinx becoming more people than just me. And wouldn't it be so good to see Jinx compensate for the hole in her heart left by Silco's death by finding someone to give love to in turn, and they could bond over their shared fear of abandonment. And now I'm just writing fanfic but imagine a fight between Vi and Rell over who Jinx should stay with, like wouldn't that just be the angstiest, and coolest thing ever?

[teruel-a-witch]

Sorry for hijacking your meta-writing abilities but I'm at work and I have just had an epiphany. You know what's really, insanely wild about the whole Cath/Billie/Steve problem? That when in 4x02 Steve rants that Cath will need a job, and Danny answers that they'll find her one, despite harping about Catherine’s unmatched abilities in recon and intel, Steve doesn't suggest, NOT EVEN AS A JOKE, no, it doesn't even cross his mind, that they could offer her a job in Five-0. Steve could do it. Later he will. BUT. NOT. HERE. AND. NOW. See, it would've solved any issue: give Cath a job exactly tailored onto her, keep her close to Steve, reinforce their bond. But neither Steve, nor Danny, even suggest it. Or think about it. It's like....dunno, it's like they don't want to break the perfect bubble of intimacy and closeness they've built for themselves. Like Cath would play among them the same role Billie plays between Steve and her. Or maybe I'm seein things.

You are not hijacking anything like I'm ever gonna pass up an opportunity to ramble (especially about my current obsession aka McDanno). You are not seeing things, unless you mean seeing what's actually shown on screen ;).

First, I'm gonna speculate on the reasons the writers wrote it this way and then I'll put my shipping goggles on.

As soon as they made Cath a regular on the show, I thought it's just a matter of time before she would have to join 5-0 just because, well, it's what the show is about.

BUT there were two problems with that, one - they didn't want to make it look like she only got the job because she's Steve's sometimes maybe girlfriend (even tho lbr that is why, not that she's not qualified, of course she is, but she was only considered for the job because of her connection to the boss, that is the definition of nepotism, not to mention they wanted to avoid the implication that she...uh...slept her way to the top) so they had to make it look like she had her own thing and they tried everything before just sticking her on the team.

The second problem, I imagine, is they didn't want to make it look like they immediately replaced Kono with Cath (while Grace was on her maternity leave which was a valid reason for her to be absent the optics are just not great especially after they already sidelined Kono for Lori in S2, since the show was allergic to having more than one woman on the team (had to adhere to the Smurfette Principle I guess).

The Powers That Be and the marketing doesn't care about the show *being* progressive it cares about *appearing* progressive which is why they had to cover their bases, so to speak. They had to go 'See? We have tried everything. We gave her her own job, that didn't work out, and now they are one team member short so it makes sense for her to be there since she is more than qualified, not because she's dating the boss, she's her own woman, hashtag feminism'.

So that's my conjecture/speculation for why it was written like that OUT OF universe.

Now *puts her shipping goggles on* since we don't have to consider the external reasons and only work with what we get on screen, you are absolutely right, it's veeeery curious how neither Steve nor Danny actually want Cath there, because 5-0 is ohana and no matter how much TPTB tried to force it she was never truly part of it.

But more than that, their job is their partnership, it's a Steve-and-Danny thing, of course they didn't want a third wheel to invade their own private little world.

It's absolutely in the same vein with Steve inviting Danny to go fishing to his father's secret spot and refusing to disclose to Cath where he is going. (He needs his very special male bonding time away from wymyn ;))

Steve NEEDS a place where he can escape to from the tiring burden of heteronormativity, Danny doesn't have to see his 'girlfriends' at work every day, this is the time where he can spend as much time as he wants with Steve without anyone invading that, of course they don't want Steve's 'girlfriend' to be there every day taking a giant bite out of their quality time cake.

Cath being there means they both have to be on™ all the time, the performance never stops and they can't relax and be themselves and it's exhausting. Steve prefers to compartmentalize and he was perfectly happy to keep Cath and 5-0 separate.

Not to mention he was perfectly okay with the little amount of time he usually spent with her (tells us everything we need to know, doesn't it, especially compared how him and Danny live in each other's pockets) and if she worked with them it would be like being forced to eat tasteless bran every day instead of only occasionally just to tick a box.

Lastly, I would argue that unlike with Billie, there IS actually a triangle of sorts with Cath - Steve - Danny (Billie - Cath - Steve isn't a real triangle because Steve is clearly not interested in competing with Billie).

Danny definitely doesn't enjoy Cath encroaching on his quality time with Steve, and he *cannot* watch any form of PDA between the two, as evidenced by him literally turning away and/or making a joke every time he has to witness the forced display. Her working with them would mean he would have to suffer through even more of that so of course it wouldn't be his suggestion. Danny may feel like 'the other woman' sometimes but in reality Cath simply couldn't compete with him, if Steve knew he returned his feelings he would have dropped Cath like a hot potato. It's not a real love triangle when the sides are extremely uneven and the choice is obvious.

TL;Dr: you are not so much seeing as perceiving correctly.

[mocchimi]

Sooooo, I wrote something for the beautiful crackship Wingrod (thanks to @avoidghost by the way for getting me into it) and decided to absolutely fuck my existence by posting it here :D my anxiety is having a blast.

I had exactly 4 hours of sleep while writing this and honestly, I think it shows.

Anyways have this fantasy Apocalypse AU that I will probably write more for, depending on how I feel about it tomorrow.

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

How had a simple search ended in this kind of disaster?

He hadn’t intended for it to go this far, really, he hadn’t.

But destiny apparently had other plans for him and his beloved, so now here they stood. Shadows eating into their plating, hope slowly extinguished and no way of reigniting it. The Prime had fallen, and darkness had won.

They were not many, and he held no delusion of victory, but if he could keep the little spark of hope alive then he would. This would be a sacrifice in vain, suicide, but it could, just maybe, inspire future generations to rise against the devil and stop his madness. He finally decided it would be time to make a decision that benefited other people, instead of continuing his selfish ways.

He knew that his dearest would disagree with him, argue that he wasn’t selfish, but he could not deny that most of his actions had been fueled by selfishness. It was almost comedic that it took the oldest evil known to their kind to make him realize that. Maybe he could do better in his next life, if there was a next life.

“Hot Rod.”

The white mech beside him had taken his servo and looked at him, trying to figure out what his beloved was thinking. Hot Rod smiled sadly and squeezed the flyer’s servo in hopes of distracting or reassuring him, he wasn’t quite sure which one he was trying to achieve.

“It’s okay. I was just thinking about what we’re about to do and how I changed since this all started.”

His partner wasn’t being distracted from what he meant by that, no matter how hard he squeezed his servo. The flyer’s other servo was raised to cup Hot Rod’s cheek and the speedster couldn’t avoid the optics of his beloved anymore. They were filled with understanding and hope.

Hot Rod still didn’t understand what Wing exactly saw in him, of all mechs.

The swordsmech always tried to help everyone around him, and while that sometimes was the wrong thing to do, his optimism and hope for the good never stopped or got any weaker. How had such a cruel world deserved Wing? Or for that instant any of the mechs Hot Rod was with now. All of them were brave and had overcome a hard and dark part of their past, all of them were proud warriors ready to give their life for others. Hot Rod wasn’t like them and would probably never be like them.

Before he could suffer from the dark thoughts clouding his mind, the soft brush of Wing’s digits pulled him back to reality. Wing smiled at the speedster, sadly and so knowing, but with no judgement. Hot Rod wanted to cry but couldn’t bring himself to let that weakness show. They had chosen him, for some ungodly reason, as their leader and he would not disappoint them. Not like he disappointed Orion and their creators.

“I know that this is hard, especially considering what happened with your brother, but Hot Rod believe me when I tell you, that you are not selfish. You make mistakes, like everyone else and people just decided that you need to be punished more than everyone else. It was never easy for you, but you decided to change and try better and that is something not everyone can do.”

Wing cupped his face with both his servos and Hot Rod couldn’t find any malicious intend in his partners optics. He could see the love and adoration the other held for him, which he didn’t feel worthy of, but was so clearly true that he couldn’t deny the other. The flyer held him in high regards whether Hot Rod agreed with it or not. He was never pushed to believe Wing, but the white mech made him see the good sides to him.

“When I first meet you, I didn’t understand what you were doing. I couldn’t see why you were acting like you did, but I came to understand as you started to understand yourself.”

Hot Rod covered Wing’s servos with his own, trying to show the flyer how much he appreciated this right now.

“I cannot tell you how proud I am of what you have become. Hot Rod, no matter what happens in the next few hours, I will never regret meeting you.”

He felt the tears in his optic and tried desperately to swallow them but found that he couldn’t succeed. Tears started running down his faceplate and he grasped desperately at Wing’s servos. A hiccup breaking free from his chassis as he tried to speak. Wing just came closer and leaned their foreheads together, knowing that was all the speedster would need.

“Thank you, Wing. I don’t know what would have happened without you or the others. What you all have done for me is something I can never repay, and I am sorry for that, but knowing you is truly a blessing I feel not deserving of.”

He smiled and offlined his optics. Knowing that his next words could ruin everything they had build up, but he knew that he had kept it for to long and wouldn’t be able to stand it ant longer. With a deep vent he onlined his optics again and looked at Wing.

“I really love you, Wing.”

There was no shock, no mockery or disgust. Wing looked a little perplexed, but it melted soon into a smile filled with adoration and love.

“That means a lot, truly. I really love you, too.”

And with that they sealed their lips. Hot Rod didn’t even know who initiated the kiss, but that moment it really didn’t matter. All that matter were Wing’s arms around him, holding him and giving him the safety, he craved all his life, ironically just hours before their suicide mission.

Hot Rod didn’t feel deserving of Wing’s love, but that did not matter as he decided to be selfish just one last time.

[lord-squiggletits]

"blind Pharma au" Please tell me more 👀

Oh shit hiiiiii dsklfjsd I'll try to write down some sorta interesting details in bullet points, I don't really have a specific "plot" for it or anything it's literally just, "everything is the same but Pharma was born blind" so here goes. Also, warning for made-up medicine, sketchy biology/scientific knowledge, and lots of headcanons

Pharma was still a forged medic, only when he finished forging everything about him was top notch except his optics. They're still there on his face and look like any seeing mech's eyes, it's just that there's just no connection between his eyes and his brain for whatever reason

This leads to a lot of discussion of what classification he should be put underneath, as Pharma has beautiful medic hands (scientific class) but is also a flight frame (typically consigned to transportation or soldiering) but is blind so how is he supposed to do any of those things (disposable class)? Pharma is sitting there through all this and gets increasingly irate at these mechs calling him useless because he can't see and this is apparently a big deal. From Pharma's perspective, he has all the tools he needs to live a normal life, but apparently because he's not "seeing" there's something wrong with him

Pharma meanwhile was forged with plenty of extra strong senses including keen hearing, echolocation, electromagnetic sensors, sonar, etc even sensitive touch and taste and smell. He can walk around and avoid colliding with other mechs without aid. He can detect objects around him even if they're of very small size.

Somehow or another Pharma ends up successfully becoming a doctor (maybe they just decided they didn't want to waste a forged medic or something) and his medical hands + his increased senses actually allow him to do just fine. Things that other mechs would observe with their eyes, Pharma can sense through his hands but also unorthodox senses like tasting/smelling faint chemical traces in the air and being able to hear small changes in patients' organs and whatnot

Yes, Pharma gets a lot of questions about "but how can you fly if you're blind???" and his answer is always that his alt mode works just fine, he just avoids flying in the city because he doesn't want to get hit by anyone.

Which actually means that Pharma spends a lot of time living among ground-frames (taking public transportation instead of flying, living in an apartment with ground floors instead of high towers flight frames usually favor) and thus he becomes accustomed to near-constant attention and more or less being a spectacle. As a result, Pharma really doesn't like being stared at or having people crowd too close to him (sometimes people on the bus would get...touchy with him, with the wonder of seeing a flight frame on the ground and all).

Pharma could navigate on his own and do his job without disability aids, but he does buy a cane at some point just because it makes things a little easier (and also he can stab/whack people with it "by accident" if they get in his personal space)

Eventually, Pharma saves enough money from his job as a doctor to buy a seeing eye drone (this is why I was reblogging your art with "blind Pharma AU" :3c ). I imagine the drone also has flying capabilities and can augment Pharma's senses with its own due to some Cybertronian Bluetooth connection or something. It gives Pharma enough extra sensory and spatial information that he CAN do things like fly in crowded areas, since the drone can help him navigate traffic and guide him from open area to open area

Why doesn't Pharma just get his eyes fixed or something? A couple of reasons, one being that Pharma insists that there's nothing to fix out of pride. From the moment he came online people talked about him like he was defective just because he couldn't see, and frankly Pharma is so offended about it that he partially wants to remain blind just to spite everyone who thinks he's odd or can't be a good doctor

Another reason that Pharma doesn't "fix his eyes" could possibly be that the cause of his blindness isn't well known (he was forged, not cold constructed, which means there are no "schematics" to explain how each piece of his frame works) and Pharma is afraid of letting anyone tinker with his body or especially his brain without knowing exactly what the potential side effects of surgery could be. I mean, Pharma literally works for the Institute before the war; he knows exactly what things like shadowplay are capable of doing, and quite frankly, he doesn't want to even risk anyone getting inside of his brain and tampering with something that could completely alter his mind

That's about everything I can think of offhand ^_^ I'm happy to answer any follow-up questions or maybe dig through my Discord DMs if you want more details!

[chrisevansluv]

This is what I have been noticing about Chris for the last 3/4 months , I’m opend to rebuttals.

Something that I find very interesting is the fact that Chris has been off ever since he started filming PH. He went MIA and barely posted on sm. But the unusual thing is that he looks sad or something seemed off every time we have seen him since Sept. (in set photos and even on the Bros, SMA and The Rock videos he looked kind off/sad) And throughout the year he wasn’t like that (he would have a few off moments in interviews but for the most part he was he’s normal goofy self).

So my question is: Why do you look so miserable if you’re in a “happy” relationship ever since Sept. (I don’t believe they are PR and we know she’s been around him since then)

Maybe I’m imagining things but I’ve been feeling that way before we got the confirmation and was wondering why he seemed off. Now it makes even less sense lol. I’m sharing to see if anyone has felt the same way.

He looked fine while filming Pain Hustlers though

I mean, clearly in SMA he looked off, but probably it's because he knew what was to come right after 🤷‍♀️ We've seen him being insecure and ashamed of the whole thing ever since it was released to the public.

I don't think the reason he's off is Alba though. In intimate pics he looks comfortable and happy with her

BUT the whole situation, and how affected he is by the rest's opinions is what makes him be off. And it's obvious when he spends hours blocking random people (that aren't even tagging him, so he's actively looking for his and Alba's names).

He knows the optics are bad, he knows a part of his fandom know when and how it all started (and it's not the fairytale he tried to sell to everybody).

There's a reason why he always wears a full on disguise to at least hide his age and avoid people comparing his looks to hers. Because not only she's 16 younger than him, she doesn't look her age.

Of course he's off. Before, most part of his fandom would literally praise him and baby him as soon as he was attacked. This time, he still has a vast majority babying him, but the ones dragging him or shading him were the most active ones in his fandom.

I don't know. He's a grown man. He took a decision and he should own it, give 0 fucks about what others think because it's his life. But it's a privilege you can't have when your career depends so bad on the public, the fandom and the perception they have of you.

[mantleoflight]

The little orb that was Stoat's shell hovered around Mathafew's head. For now, it was still blissfully quiet in there thanks to the cocktail of drugs that had been in his IV that past several days. He was up and moving now, albiet a bit sluggishly, still a little glassy-eyed, but at least he was awake and in back in his own head.

And for the most part, he was alone in there.

Some whispers from the hundreds of minds around the tower were beginning to creep in, but they were so soft he hardly noticed them. What couldn't be ignored though was the soupy thick tension between Darius and their father. While Stoat hovered protectively by his head the young man was curled up on the sofa huddled in Darius' beat up coat and a blanket wrapped around himself. He peered at the other two with his glassed-over scarlet eyes.

It had been like this for a few days now from what Stoat had said. The two of them avoiding talking about anything more touchy than whether it should be eggs or oatmeal for breakfast. Since waking up, Mathafew had noticed the same. They talked to him, but they barely talked to each other. He sighed and flopped over to stare at the ceiling.

He wondered, if he froze them both in place, would that make a difference?

@sundanceofapache

'I don't think that would work very well,' Stoat thought back, eyeing the two suspiciously. 'Bari's doing good at trying to communicate, but Darius just seems... locked up for some reason. Like some muscle that won't unclench or landing gear that won't unjam. Something like that.'

The ghost huffed and nestled down beside Mathafew. 'I'll see what I can do with Baribus but Darius seems like he's trying to protect himself from.. us? Or maybe from Baribus. He's scared of... something. I dunno.'

He glanced over at Mathafew, optic eyeing the boy's glassy-eyed stare. 'Maybe if I bring them on a mission? Give them a chance to work together? It worked when Darius did it with us, maybe it'll work with him and Baribus?'

[petitelepus]

Dude, how is your writing so good? I’m jealous!😭

Could you maybe write a yandere rid 2015 saberhorn x a cybertronian reader who works on decepticon island and is quite scared of him? I cant help but find amusement in a dynamic of:

saberhorn: *appears* Hello my dearest worker :D! As your conju- i mean superior i demand to know your schedule and who you were just talking to-

Reader: AAHHHH-

Amazing work you’re doing! 😁👍

You were so nervous around your superior that you were almost embarrassed by how your armor rattled when you felt his presence near you.

You knew that sir Saberhorn was charming, robust, and not to mention loyal Decepticon, but something about him made energon in your lines freeze.

Maybe it was the way how he would talk to you with this calmer and more gentle way as if he was talking to an easily startled sparkling. Or how his optics followed your every move or how they lingered on your back when you left the room?

Others either laughed at you and told you that you were imagining things while some accuse you of being egoistic and having such big thoughts about yourself.

Like why would a high-ranking Decepticon general look at a simple worker like you in a way you accused him of doing? Get your helm out of your aft!

It hurt when others wouldn't believe you and accused you like that, but you were just a worker ant. You had no say in anything.

"And how are thee on this wonderful day?"

You jumped and screeched in shock and quickly turned around to see the Decepticon general you so much feared behind you.

"S- Sir Saberhorn!" You yelped in shock, but remembered your place and saluted your superior, "H- How may I serve you?"

"At ease soldier. You have done no foul." He said and you slowly lowered your hand. "Y- Yes sir, how can I assist you?"

"I've heard some Cons have been rather... Unpleasant towards you?" He seemed to search for the right words to use, "Accusing you for things you have no say in and by far have not done?"

"O- Oh, nothing, it's nothing!" You shook your helm and tried to smile but it came out more nervous and fearful than genuine. "W- We were just teasing each other, yes, that's it!"

Saberhorn stared at you as if trying to see if you were lying, but finally, he smiled and gently patted your shoulder, making you almost faint on the spot.

"Good good! It's good to have a healthy relationship with your fellow Decepticons!" Saberhorn nodded, "Keep up the good work little one and you will get what's rightfully yours!"

That's when your superior left and you sighed out loud when he was gone from earshot. In his optics you could do no harm and no foul. That was so nerve-wracking! but what did he mean by what was yours?

Later you heard that one of the Cons who had said all those nasty things to you had been stripped from his higher ranking and you were named to take their place. You were sure it was work of Saberhorn.

When you walked down the halls, the Cons you were familiar enough to almost call friends refused to even look at you and would leave as soon as you averted your gaze from them.

As you watched your closest friends leave you behind, you felt a powerful presence behind you.

"S- Sir Saberhorn!" You gasped as you turned to address your superior and he smiled as he told you to calm down. "How do you like your new position as overseer?"

Your new position. Wait... So Saberhorn really was the one who had made your promotion possible? Was he the reason your friends took their distance and avoided you? Because they feared what Saberhorn would do?

As the realization hit you, the Decepticon general gently patted your helm. "Aren't you happy? Now you don't need to spend time with those ungrateful ones and you can spend more time with me?"

"Y- Yes, sir...!"