#transformed into an one shot fic

[mrs-snape5984]

“I think, I know just what you’re longing for…”

“I may be undone, but nothing seems to undo you…” (“My Thieving Heart” by Sivert Høyem feat. Marie Munroe)

Wow…I’m crawling back to the surface of tumblr, coming from hell. My last crash has been one of the worst so far…I couldn’t stand up, I couldn’t get myself something to drink, I couldn’t eat, I wasn’t even capable of thinking in a proper way. Since I couldn’t even type anymore, I had to ask my sweet friend @vulnus-sanare to help me out by sending messages to some of my friends. I didn’t mean to make anyone feel worried about me, so please forgive me for my long silence.

This beautiful artwork, which I’ve requested from my lovely friend @opalchalice, is based on a dream, which I’ve had some weeks ago. Lia, I’m sorry for the delay, but I wanted to transform my dream into a short one-shot fiction to honour your fabulous work the way, it deserves to be seen. You know, that I’m a fan of your art, my dear….but this one…damn, Lia! You overwhelmed me with this stunning piece of art! Thank you so much for your understanding of my ideas. I’m beyond grateful for our verbal exchanges and I’m proud to call you my friend. You’re so talented and kind, Lia. Please…never change!

Now…back to my dream. Since I’m struggling immensely with brain fog, due to my disease ME/CFS, I noticed that my ability to write seems to fade away. This isn’t my best work and I’m very aware of this fact…so please keep in mind, that I’ve written this under the torture of my sickness and be gentle with me.

TW: smut and a slight mention of lactation kink…well…I leave it like that. 😅

🔞 🚫mdni 🔥💦 (1012 words)

More to love

It was midnight. From afar Julia could hear the faint tintinnabulation of the church tower bells…ringing once…and her bare feet touched the cold grass beneath herself. Twice…and she felt a cold breeze caressing her blushing cheeks. Tilting her head back, Julia closed her eyes and listened to the remaining ten strikes of the clock tower. Her nightdress was billowing in the wind, sending shivers down her spine.

Suddenly Julia sensed some arms coming from behind, tightly wrapped around her waist, when she was pulled back against a tall presence. A surprised gasp left her lips, but the familiar personal scent of her husband soothed her nerves immediately. “What are you doing here alone in the middle of the night, Jules?” Even after so many years, the deep voice of Julia’s husband caused a certain weakness to her knees. Severus‘ hot breath tickled the soft spot behind her ear, leaving goosebumps all over her alabaster skin. „You‘ll catch a cold, darling,” he murmured lovingly, burying his face in Julia’s wild curls. “Mmmh…so divine…,” she heard him whispering hoarsely, his voice was dripping with desire.

Severus’ hands roamed over her tummy, clenching the satiny fabrics of her nightdress in his lustful grasp. “Severus…,” she breathed, pressing her back against his chest. “…this isn’t the right pl…,” but one of his hands silenced her resolutely, whilst his other hand passed the plunging neckline of her nightdress, massaging her voluptuous bosom with a firm grip. “Shhh…stand still and be quiet, Jules,” Severus urged her, playfully pinching her erected nipples, causing a muffled whimper from his wife.

Suddenly, Julia felt two more hands grazing over her bare legs and her eyes widened in disbelief when she perceived another man kneeling beside her, shoving her nightgown up to her waist. But this wasn’t just any man, who touched her so intimately! The silky raven hair…the adorably crooked nose…and oh, those mesmerising obsidian eyes! She didn’t understand how this was even possible, but the man on his knees was no one other than a second version of her very own husband…observing her reactions with a seductive smile on his lips.

Julia couldn’t suppress a guttural moan escaping her lips…smothered by Severus’ hand on her mouth, when bold fingertips brushed against the edge of her panties…pulling them aside in a swift move. Another groan found its way up her throat as soon as a finger dipped into her moist depths. “Gods, you’re already so wet for us, Julia,” the deep voice of her husband cut the silence of the night, a subtle hint of mockery seemed to be layered underneath the lecherous tone of his words.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for us, Jules,” Severus murmured close to her ear, still holding her in place from behind her back. His hand released her mouth…only to be replaced by his arm, tightly wrapped around her neck. The tickling sensation of Severus’ breath on her delicate skin sent goosebumps all over her body, which didn’t stay unnoticed by him. His amused chuckle echoed through the air, only to be followed by a strict demand: “Wider, Julia! We know, you could never get enough of us…”

Severus’ commanding tone and the mysterious situation left her speechless and aroused. The wetness between her thighs glistened in the moonlight, causing a never known neediness to creep up inside herself.

“Damn…you’re dripping already,” Severus teased her from his kneeling position, before his thumb started to draw circles on her throbbing clit, causing her to moan in delight. “Just give in and enjoy the magic, Jules…,” his dark voice growled and Julia couldn’t make out, who of them said that. The confusion mixed with her growing excitement made her feel slightly light-headed. Two fingers entered her moist entrance, adding a new layer of greediness to her already tense body. While her husband held her in place, his magical likeness drove the redhead crazy with the gentle and yet determined play of his digits….fingering her deliberately slowly…teasing her clit with his thumb until she begged for more. “Oh, gosh….yes! Please, Severus….fuck me! I’m begging you,” Julia whimpered desperately, almost crying from this lustful torture.

Suddenly a third Severus joined the scene. Julia noticed how good he looked with his man bun, a cheeky strand of hair falling over his eye, just like she had seen it countless times before, when her husband was focused on brewing his potions. His voice sounded so mockingly when he approached her, pinching her hardened nipples through the silky fabrics of her nightgown. “Well, well…what do we have here?,” he groaned huskily before he licked over the delicate skin on Julia’s neck. “Damn, you’re truly insatiable, Jules…but so am I!” Ripping off her dress, Severus revealed Julia’s soft, full breasts and bit his bottom lip in anticipation. “Fuck, Jules…you know, what I want…,” he murmured under his breath before his mouth found its destination…embracing her stiffened nipple with hungry eager. “Let me be your good boy, Jules…,” Severus mumbled before he started to suckle greedily until a small trace of milk drooled from the corner of his mouth…causing her legs to tremble.

“Aah! Severus…yes…do with me whatever you want…,” she whimpered needily, closing her eyes in pleasure.

“Oh no, Jules…open your eyes, my darling,” her husband growled from behind her back. “You will watch us, sweetheart…we want you to see everything, what we’re doing with you…and you will enjoy the view until you’re coming undone.” Julia couldn’t do anything else than nodding obediently, when Severus held her in place for his companions…pressing his hard cock against her back….

Suddenly Julia woke up from her naughty dream, with a loud gasp escaping from her mouth. Blinking rapidly, she looked at her familiar surroundings, feeling the soft surface of the bedsheets beneath her bare skin. Her gaze fell on her peacefully sleeping husband on the other side of the bed. Tenderly Julia bent over to place a little kiss on Severus’ adorably crooked nose…before she slipped underneath the covers to worship him the way, he deserved to be treated…..

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[lets-try-some-writing]

Broken Record

It all started that first loop, when Smokescreen was branded. Now he is stuck in a loop and absolutely determined to make sure Optimus Prime survives. The only problem? It seems that Primus himself has other plans.

(This thing is bloody LONG so be wary if you decide to start reading. I am not joking this thing is crazy so PLEASE if you are going to read be PREPARED.)

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It was the greatest cycle of Smokescreen’s life when he landed on Earth. There could have been no greater honor than coming to a world and being given the chance to serve directly under the one and only Optimus Prime. And for a few short Earth months, Smokescreen learned and fought alongside the most elite of their kind, growing and coming closer to the team all while being able to interact with the leader of the Autobots. It was a dream come true… until Megatron found their base.

Optimus decided to stay behind. Smokescreen and the rest of the team hated it, Ratchet most of all. But who was he to argue against an order? And so Smokescreen fled when he was told to, at least at first. He could not allow his Prime to die, especially not without honor. And so he threw himself back into the groundbridge, emerging into fire and ash just in time to find Optimus and drag him away with the help of the phase shifter.

It was bad, and even after what had to have been millions of years, Smokescreen recalled the distinctness of that first loop with crisp clarity. 

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“Don’t worry Optimus! I’ll get Ratchet and he’ll patch you right up!” Smokescreen attempted to soothe despite seeing Optimus’s optics flicker more with every nanoklik. This was bad, this was very very bad. He wasn’t trained in this-

“The time for a new leader… is upon us.” Optimus’s voice called out in the darkness, his vocalizer straining with each glyph he uttered. His frame heaved, his battered body failing more every time he vented. Smokescreen wanted to panic, but Optimus’s field washed over him sadly and in understanding. There was something sorrowful in his optics, something that did not seem to be the languishing of a dying mech. His field spoke of… pity for Smokescreen of all beings. Why?

“And I believe in my spark, that… that leader stands before me right now.” What?

“Optimus, I can’t-!” He tried to object, to step away. But Optimus held firm, grabbing his arm with strength a dying mech should not have had. His gaze held a fierceness that Smokescreen could hardly comprehend as the failing Prime again spoke into the darkness, his will so mighty that for a split second, Smokescreen found himself afraid. 

“The will of Primus is absolute. This is the calling, and you cannot escape… none of us can.” Optimus’s field flared, his optics blazing as Smokescreen felt a searing heat creep into his spark. He cried out as he fell to his knees, looking toward Optimus in terror. The Prime however merely gave him a pitying look before he sighed, his vents fluttering before he ultimately fell still, his spark sputtering out.

Smokescreen could only gape as his spark flared in agony, a brand now placed upon it that ached unendingly. Optimus’s broken torso split as the Matrix revealed itself, shining in all its glory. And yet when Smokescreen viewed it, his very being cried out in terror. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want that accursed thing in him. Something deep down within him told him that the relic before him was dangerous.

“No, this isn’t how the story is supposed to go.” He attempted to get up and run, primal fear directing his movements. However when he ran, leaving the body of his Prime behind, something shifted. The brand in his spark burned with such fierceness that by the time Smokescreen managed to track down one of the team, he all but collapsed. He didn't recall what followed perfectly, but he was sure it was Bumblebee who tried to hold him up and figure out what was going on. 

Smokescreen could do nothing as his vision swam and he purged until he had nothing left to give. It BURNED and there was nothing he could do as he heard Optimus's soft voice in the back of his mind and the world became a mess of colors before fading to black.

"The choice is neither yours nor mine to make. When the time comes, the Matrix will choose one who is worthy." 

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Just as quickly as it all ended, Smokescreen found his optics booting online again to the sight of his stasis pod opening. He found himself climbing out into a burning crater, unable to figure out what in Primus's name was going on even as Vehicons swarmed his pod. He knew this scene. He had lived this scenario. However he had no time to figure out what was happening as the Autobots arrived with a very much alive Optimus Prime leading the charge. 

He decided not to question as he threw himself into battle, a little wiser and better trained than before. He quickly jumped into formation, flanking Arcee and laying down suppressive fire as she had directed him before. By the time he was finally questioned, Smokescreen found himself in total disbelief. He had watched Optimus die and yet here the Prime was asking for his designation and thanking him for his efforts. Arcee was still as snarky as the first time and Ratchet was firmly sitting in the boat of suspicion. But this was just as things played out before.

"I'm Smokescreen, a member of the elite guard." He stuttered, his optics wide and his spark flaring as the brand pulsed. It ached and all Smokescreen could do was stare up at the mech he thought dead until Bumblebee stepped forward in concern.

"Are you alright? You are leaking coolant." Reaching up to touch his face, Smokescreen found coolant falling from his optics. That wasn't right. Why was he crying? Optimus was alive. It had to have all been some sort of relic induced fever dream. He had been abusing the phase shifter before all this and he had been guarding the Hall of Records. Strange things happened to mech who worked there. Maybe it was doing things to him, giving him visions. 

It couldn't have been real. He refused to believe it was.

"I'm fine. Just a bit out of it. It's not every day you meet Optimus Prime of all bots!" He shelved his memory and forced himself to smile. Arcee glared, Ratchet scoffed, Bulkhead nodded, and Bumblebee got back in position. Optimus for his part merely made a soft sound, his optics glinting before he ordered a groundbridge back to base, regardless of Arcee and Ratchet's complaints. 

Smokescreen simply smiled. The brand burned, but he did his best not to feel it. Everything had just been a bad dream. It was all going to be fine now. He would use what he knew to his advantage, and this time, he would ensure Optimus Prime survived.

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He did his best to warn his Prime without putting too much faith in his vision. He directed the team away from dangers and jumped into the fray with more wisdom than before. Nothing changed all that much, but there were a few less scars than in his vision and that was a small relief. Despite Smokescreen's efforts, Megatron found their base again. It was not ideal, but this time Smokescreen knew how damaged Optimus would be. He couldn't get Optimus to change his decision, he knew that much. But if he could get Ratchet to stick with him, then he could stop the devastation he knew was coming. 

"Ratchet, he's going to survive the blast, but he won't last much longer afterwards. He needs a medic on call." Smokescreen murmured as he pulled Ratchet aside. The medic gave him a sharp look, seemingly about to say something snippy before Smokescreen shushed him.

"Listen to me! You won't believe me if I tell you, but I know what is going to happen. The blast will hit, the Cons will arrive, and Optimus will survive for a few more days after the attack." Ratchet's optics blew wide, his field radiating pure suspicion. Smokescreen grabbed the medic's shoulders, trying to convey his conviction as much as he possibly could. Ratchet was a hard nut to crack, but not impossible.

"Are you a traitor? Is that how you know what's coming? Did the guilt of knowing eat you up inside? Is that why you are telling me this now that it's too late to stop our base from being destroyed?!" Ratchet's voice raised as the ceiling shook. It wouldn't be long now. 

"You just need to trust me! I'm no Con, but I saw the future! So please, listen to me!" Optimus and the rest of the team began to return back into the base through the elevator shaft. Smokescreen could only curse as he hurriedly hissed.

"There is a cave system under the base not far from here! I will take Optimus there after the blast hits! Meet me there with your medical kit!" The sound of blaster fire and the team rushing into base had Smokescreen pulling away, but before he left, he did his best to nod toward Ratchet and pray that his words were taken to spark. The medic glared, but his servos shook enough that Smokescreen could hope.

He was right to hope. When Smokescreen pulled Optimus from the ash this time, Ratchet arrived not an hour later and began to dutifully tend to the ailing Prime. It was bad enough that even the medic seemed to be on the brink of a mental breakdown, but as wounds were welded shut and energon siphoned into Optimus's battered frame, Smokescreen found himself hopeful. Things were still rough, but Optimus wasn't about to die anymore. They could make this work-

"Smokescreen." Optimus called out from where he lay on the ground, Ratchet still fussing over him. The medic stilled and Smokescreen paused as the brand burned. Coolant began to fall from Ratchet's optics as his scanners blared. 

"No no no, Optimus please no." Ratchet pleaded, his voice edging into static as he desperately tried to weld more wounds shut and repair the extensive damage to Optimus's systems. Smokescreen shook his helm, this couldn't be possible. He had made things better. His vision couldn't have been real. He was meant to stop this from happening. 

"The time for a new leader... is upon us." The same line. The same look. Optimus stared at him in understanding and again Smokescreen found himself afraid. This wasn't right. Optimus wasn't meant to die.

"Not again! I am not doing this again! I am not letting you die, Optimus!" Smokescreen cried out even as the Prime repeated that same pitying stare. Smokescreen did not wait for the inevitable as his brand burned. He ran faster than he ever had before as Ratchet wept behind him. He wouldn't stay, he wouldn't wait for what was now a certainty.

He ran until he could run no more, falling somewhere in Nevada far from Darkmount. His processors screamed at him to return to the team, but as he lay on the ground, the brand burning just as hot as it had in his vision... he knew that was no longer an option. Optimus was dead. He had failed. As his vision began to swim once more, he found conviction lacing his very being.

This was not how the story was meant to end. 

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Again he found himself coming online to meet the familiar sight of his stasis pod. This time, he wobbly emerged. He looked around in disbelief, glancing down at his servos and the Vehicons surrounding him in absolute fear. He was back again. There was no way that was all just a vision.

When the team arrived, he was too shaken to help. He hid within his stasis pod, watching the fighting playing out from within. Vehicons were shot at until they fled, and despite feeling like a coward, Smokescreen remained huddled up in the only space he knew to be safe until at last the team neared. From the inside, Smokescreen could see them arguing over whether or not to open his pod. Smokescreen made the decision for them with unsteady digits. 

"A youngling." Optimus mused as the pod opened and Smokescreen's shaking form became visible. He tried to still his movements, but his vents came in broken sputters and he could hardly move with how much it all was. He was back again. HOW was he back again?

"Part of the Elite Guard based on his badge, although he doesn't look the part." Arcee taunted, her blasters lowered but still ready to turn him into scrap metal if Smokescreen acted out of line. The rest of the team made similar comments, all appearing highly unimpressed. Smokescreen wished he could speak in his defense, but he was shaking too much. His spark ached, the brand still burned, but it was easing. The fragging brand had to have something to do with this. Whatever Optimus did to him the first time had changed him, he could feel lit.

"Youngling, you are safe with us. Can you tell me your designation?" Optimus knelt down and reached into the pod, offering a servo to help Smokescreen up. It was all so very wrong, but Smokescreen accepted the aid and stood before the team, trying desperately to find his voice. He was back again, he didn't know how, but he was. And if he was back-

He could change things.

"Sorry Sir. I was... not expecting my arrival here on Earth. I'm Smokescreen, an elite guardsmech." He saluted, but he did not smile. This was no laughing matter, not anymore. What he thought to be some sort of dream last time was evidently something else entirely. He refused to fail again. 

"I will not fail you." He bowed, his oath flowing from his vocalizer smoothly despite the way his doorwings still twitched. He was going to make things right or die trying. Maybe then whatever this was would come to an end.

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"I want you to teach me to fight." Smokescreen proclaimed as he stood before the team. Bulkhead paused, Miko silenced her guitar with a strange look, and the other two children glanced over at him. Arcee glared, an act he had long grown used to, and Bumblebee's faux vocalizer whirled in confusion. 

"You fight well enough to hold your own. What brought this up?" Arcee questioned as she crossed her arms. She didn't seem upset but rather intrigued. This time around Smokescreen had not made the best of impressions considering his hiding away in his pod. But he knew what he needed to do now. He needed to be better, fight harder. Then he could turn the tides and hopefully make it so that the team's base didn't get discovered at all. 

"You are all elites. I want to know everything I can so that we don't lose any more good mecha due to my idiocy." A few raised optics ridges met his statement, but none outright rejected him. A long silence followed before Arcee made a hum of understanding and nodded.

"I'll teach you what I can. Just don't die rookie. I won't be going easy on you." The two wheeler smiled for the first time since Smokescreen's arrival. He returned it with glee. Finally, he could begin trying harder to make things right. 

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Learning under Arcee was its own form of torture, but Smokescreen was devoted. When he wasn't training, he was reviewing his memory to prepare for what was to come. Battle after battle met him and each time he walked away more skilled. He was no longer the barely trained recruit who arrived on Earth two loops ago. 

He moved faster, utilizing his size and the phase shifter to his advantage. Arcee became a close friend, at least as much as one could call Arcee that. She was there to guide him, and when he started working himself toward exhaustion, she was there to smack him back down to earth and give him a reality check. She cared about him in her own strange way, and Smokescreen appreciated it. Every smile she offered told him he was improving, and for the first time he felt as though he was really part of the team, if only because Arcee approved.

"I thought you were just a skittish deadweight, but you've proven me wrong." Arcee patted him on the back after a training session well done. Smokescreen grinned even as the brand ached. Soon, the time for the Cons to attack was coming. As he threw himself against a training dummy, he felt that maybe this time, he would be ready.

He was wrong. Despite his efforts and the additional victories for the Autobots, Megatron found their base again. He had no clue how the fragger did it, but somehow, regardless of whether or not Smokescreen gave up the base's location by accident, their whereabouts found their way to Megatron. Optimus stayed behind, and again Smokescreen pulled him from the ash. This time he tried something different, running to Darkmount to attempt to reclaim the forge of Solus Prime.

He tried to get it the first time around, but it had meant so little in his shock that he had forgotten to use it. This time he would not make that mistake, especially not now that it had been proven not even Ratchet could repair his Prime. But by the time he dragged the relic back to where Optimus again lay dying, the Prime once more gave him that pitying look that Smokescreen was quickly coming to associate with failure. 

"Optimus! I brought the forge! It'll fix you up good as new!" Smokescreen pressed the hilt of the forge into Optimus's servo, but the Prime shook his helm in distress.

"The time for a new leader... is upon us." Frag it all. 

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Smokescreen didn't hear the rest as Optimus's spark went out. He grit his denta, feeling rage run hot in his spark alongside the brand. He was doing something wrong. He had to be.

Twenty eight more loops Smokescreen threw himself into training. He was inadequate, and that he could fix. He learned under all of the team, doing everything in his power to train and become better. The novelty of waking up in his pod stopped shaking him sometime around the fifth loop and from that point onward, he moved directly into his next plan as soon as he was able to. Sometimes he learned under Arcee, trying to squeeze all the training he could from her and doing his best not to think about their lost friendship. Other times he worked with Bulkhead, learning the ways of strength and training with a hammer instead of a blaster. In a few instances he served alongside Bumblebee, learning the ways of the scout and exemplifying his already present skill with speed and stealth. 

There were moments of levity amongst it all. Times when he would play video games with Bee and laugh until his vents ached. He missed those times most, especially the handful of loops where they became friends. Sometimes he would banter with Arcee, enjoying the short victories he earned before Arcee shot back at him. He missed her snark and fond chastising, more so during loops where he threw himself into training with another. Occasionally he even spent time with Bulkhead, reveling in dealing with the children and causing a degree of chaos. The Wrecker was not a mech Smokescreen would have normally befriended, but during the loops he worked with him, Bulkhead was a good teacher and Smokescreen enjoyed the stories the elder mech told.

The children themselves were plenty fun to converse and play with. Jack he found he had the most interesting interactions with. More than one loop he helped the boy get revenge on his bully. Miko was entertaining and quite a few times during his loops he ended up joining her collection of favorite bots due to his increasing skill in battle. Rafael and him never really got along, they had different focuses, but he came to appreciate the child. There were several instances where he spent quiet nights up with the boy, ready to take him home as soon as he finished attempting to decode Cybertronian glyphs. He tried not to think about those lost moments when he started the loop over again. 

It was never enough. Every single time he always ended up at Optimus's side after the destruction of the base listening to that same line over and over again. Sometimes he dragged Optimus farther away to different locations, wondering if that would change anything. On other occasions, he left Ratchet with Optimus and went with the team to raid Darkmount alongside the mighty Ultra Magnus. That too was never enough. Optimus always died, and soon after he did, Smokescreen found himself once more in his pod. 

It enraged him, but it taught him a lesson. Fighting would not save Optimus Prime. He needed to try something else. And so he instead turned to Ratchet. The doctor was one of Cybertron's finest, but he was only one set of servos. If they could repair Optimus after the blast, then all would be well. As such, when Smokescreen awoke for the twenty ninth time, he went directly to Ratchet. 

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"You want to become a field medic? You are a guardsmech." Ratchet looked him up and down, that same disgruntled expression on his face as always. Smokescreen nodded, his conviction thrumming through his entire being. He'd already attempted battle as a means to fix things, and that had failed. Being a medic was the next best option. 

"I know that. But the team come back injured far more often than they should and you only have one set of servos." Smokescreen pointed out with a raised optical ridge. Ratchet tisked and looked ready to object until Optimus spoke up.

"I see no harm in Smokescreen learning the art of medicine. You are overworked and we could use the additional skill, Old Friend." The Prime rested his servos on his hips, smiling fondly at Ratchet who waved dismissively even as he covered his face in what could have been embarrassment. Optimus chuckled softly as he continued.

"You have trained plenty of apprentices. What is the harm in one more? Smokescreen has already proven capable of fighting if need be. We would not be losing a soldier and would instead gain an additional medic." Ratchet grumbled, but after a moment, he sighed and shoved a series of datapads in Smokescreen's arms.

"Read all of those and come back when you can identify all outer components of the Cybertronian frame. If you can do that, then I will know you really want to do this." Smokescreen internally winced, but he did as he was told. 

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That loop he learned under Ratchet, and while he was not skilled enough to save Optimus that time, he did not despair. Again and again he returned, devoting himself to his task. When he had free time he trained in combat just so that he wouldn't lose what he'd gained, but almost everything else was put away in favor of his medical training. He missed conversing and bonding with the others, but Ratchet was a good teacher, if a little gruff.

The cycles repeated, but every time, Smokescreen learned a little more about the medic who came to be a mentor to him. His education progressed, and he understood more and more why Ratchet was so very tired. Too many loops ended with one of the team coming close to death, and in one loop, even offlining permanently. Ratchet worked himself half to death just to keep the group operating, and for that, Smokescreen came to respect him. At first, he could hardly handle the sight of wriggling internals, but as he continually worked with Ratchet, he calmed. He stopped being concerned by the sight of innards strewn across the ground or energon spilled after the forty third loop. He watched bots die, he put torn limbs back into place, and he was no stranger to plague.

Most loops followed the same old tune, but every now and then, there were differences. Optimus always died, but the small differences taught Smokescreen valuable lessons. Serving under the doctor gave him ample time to learn and observe. He was familiar with the team and their past from his time training with them in prior loops, but working as a medic gave him greater insight. Arcee had aches in her joints from being stuck in the arctic. Bulkhead's hydraulics sometimes locked up when he tried to stand too quickly. Bumblebee's vocalizer always bothered him, and Ratchet himself had enough aches and pains that Smokescreen had to question how the medic still functioned. Optimus's medical files were extensive enough to have Smokescreen simply put them down quite a few times.

He learned, he grew, and loops passed by in a blur.

To learn of the war and its origins as he cleaned tools in the medical bay was by far one of his most favored memories with Ratchet. Odd as it was working in the dark and listening to Ratchet talk, Smokescreen cherished it. The conversations distracted him from the loss of friendships that plagued his mind. 

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"You would hardly believe how much Optimus has changed over the vorns. Before the Matrix, he was a bit like you. Not much mind you, he had more political awareness." A slight jab, but Smokescreen did not react. He had long grown used to Ratchet's manner of speech. 

"He was a cunning character, that's for sure. He walked on a knife's edge all throughout his time in the Archives. But after the Matrix, something changed in him." Ratchet stalled in what he was doing, his shoulders falling. Smokescreen looked up from where he was putting away the scalpels he was tending to, his fresh medical insignia glinting in the light. This was the eighth time Ratchet had deemed him skilled enough to bear the mark.

"He looked at everyone strangely. He stopped trying to connect with anyone. He seemed almost... defeated. I tried asking him about it, but the only answer I managed to get out of him was that the Matrix put him through a trial when he took it." The elder medic scowled and Smokescreen listened attentively. All details were important. He couldn't afford to waste what Ratchet was giving him. Building up trust with the medic in each loop was a time consuming affair. 

"Do you know what the trial was?" Smokescreen asked cautiously. Talking with Ratchet required a degree of skill. Too informal and he wouldn't get anything, but being too formal had earned him the status of co-worker rather than confidant. He needed this information.

"No. All he's said is that every Prime goes through it so that they make the 'correct' choice." Smokescreen paused as the words reached him. What was it Optimus said during the first loop?

"The choice is neither yours nor mine to make. When the time comes, the Matrix will choose one who is worthy." He murmured to himself. Ratchet all but did a complete 180 to turn and face him, suspicion written all over his features.

"What was that?" The medic questioned sharply. Smokescreen waved him off.

"Nothing important. Just some old script I read." He had long become proficient in the art of warding Ratchet off. Besides, in the worst case scenario, he could just rebuild the relationship by making the correct verbal statements next time. 

"Old script my aft. You are keeping secrets Smokescreen. I don't know what they are, but... I am here if you want someone to listen." Ratchet's field brushed over him in a fond manner. The doctor offered a rare smile and Smokescreen found his resolve shaken. Who would believe him if he spoke? Besides, Ratchet was already overworked enough.

"Maybe next loop." He whispered as he turned back to his work. Ratchet's concern washed over him, but the doctor did not pry. It was both a comfort and a curse.

Loops passed by, and every time he returned, he came with more knowledge and maturity. No longer did he find himself as energetic as before, likely an effect of Ratchet rubbing off on him. What used to leave him thrilled meant so little. He enjoyed praise and comfort from the team when he developed friendships during a loop, however, he simply wasn't as active. Patience was his priority and greatest asset... no matter how much it hurt to return again and again only to lose the bonds he formed. 

Even still, the mission came first.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I find it hard to believe you were a guardsmech before this, Smokescreen. You have the skill to rival Ambulon prior to the war." Ratchet commented as he watched Smokescreen patch up Bulkhead's shredded arm. The Wrecker made a noise of agreement even as Smokescreen swatted him for trying to scratch at a fresh weld.

"I've been trained by the best doctor on Cybertron. I pin all of my success on him." Ratchet raised an optical ridge with an almost coy smile. 

"Oh? And who would that be? I doubt Pharma would take an apprentice like you." Smokescreen knew this game. He returned the smile, and Bulkhead froze up on the medical berth. 

"Guys?" The Wrecker called out before promptly attempting to claw at his welds again. Smokescreen smacked him upside the helm without even looking away from Ratchet. Bulkhead for his part cursed as Smokescreen spoke.

"Would you believe me if I said that I learned everything from you?" Ratchet scoffed and rolled his optics. 

"Don't be ridiculous. You've been here a few weeks at most. Even I didn't learn that fast in medical school." The elder medic wandered off to do something or other, and Smokescreen returned to his task mechanically. It wouldn't be much longer now. Soon he would have enough skill to fix Optimus.

He waited, and finally during the sixty seventh loop, Smokescreen felt confident.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Smokescreen? What are you doing?" Bumblebee asked, his optics cycling in worry. Smokescreen did not look up at him as he feverishly reviewed his tools. Weeks had been spent working up to this moment. He had patches, faux fuel lines, energon packs, replacement parts stolen from deceased Vehicons, and so much more. He was going to do it right this time. Optimus Prime was going to live. 

"I'm going to make sure Optimus lives." He answered honestly. He saw no point in playing pretend. When the loops ended and all was well, he would tell the team about his experiences. But for now, there was no use worrying them with things they couldn't do anything about.

"This isn't healthy. Ever since you got here, you've been... on edge." Smokescreen wanted to glare, but he kept his optics firmly on his tools as he loaded them into his pack. The phase shifter thrummed against his arm and he checked it over, ensuring it wouldn't go anywhere. Everything relied on his skill and the relic.

"I have work to do. I refuse to fail." He replied curtly, unwilling to bother with the details. It wasn't worth the effort anyway. However, when he turned to leave, he was met with the towering form of Optimus Prime blocking his path. The rest of the team loosely circled him, their gazes uncertain.

"You've been taking rations from storage and behaving suspiciously, Smokescreen." Optimus watched him critically, and for the first time, Smokescreen found himself looking around to see the team's equally calculating gazes. He hadn't been the most social this time, but he wasn't that suspicious, was he?

"I am not taking them for my personal gain, Sir. I am preparing for what is coming, and I will ensure that we come out on top of this war. You may not believe me, but I am not asking you to." Optimus's optics cycled, and his helm tilted as he thought. The brand on Smokescreen's spark flared as the Prime before him seemed to reach a conclusion.

"So it has chosen you... I understand now. Continue with your work, I will not impede your efforts." Just like that, Optimus walked away. The team gawked, and Smokescreen did so as well. What in Primus's name did that mean?

━━━━━━━━━━━━

He tried not to think about it, not when the time was so close. When Megatron finally destroyed the base, Smokescreen again dragged Optimus from the rubble. Only this time, he was fully prepared. With Ratchet coerced into joining him, he worked alongside his teacher in the dark of the tunnel system beneath the base to repair the ailing Prime. Ratchet did not question his preparations and instead got to work in silence. Wounds were shut, fuel lines sewn back into place, cables tied to their appropriate skeletal structures, and constant scans were run.

They worked like a well oiled machine, and Smokescreen at last allowed himself to feel giddy as he managed to get the worst of the damage closed off. According to all his calculations, Optimus would at least have another Earth year in him, so long as he remained still and received energon supplements. He was no longer critical, he was going to be fine. Years upon years and loops upon loops were finally yielding results-

"Smokescreen... How long has your trial gone on?" What?

"I don't understand." Smokescreen replied in confusion as the Prime's venting eased. Ratchet was passed out on the ground nearby, long groons of work exhausting him to the point of being forced into recharge. It was just Smokescreen and the Prime, and somehow that made the situation so much worse.

"You know more than you should... you are trained more than what I would have expected... I know these signs... I know what the trials look like." Optimus gently held Smokescreen's servo, his gaze again returning to that pitying look that Smokescreen feared and despised.

"Optimus, you are still in recovery. You must be a little disoriented." He tried to divert the conversation, but the Prime held firm, his optics cycling down and his gaze sharpening.

"How long?" The question hung in the air. Smokescreen's spark fluttered in terror as the brand burned and Optimus remained stony. He was unyielding. Smokescreen could not find it in himself to deny the question.

"Sixty nine loops. They start with my arrival on Earth and end when you die." Tortured venting filled the tunnels as Optimus began to tense up. On instinct, Smokescreen began running scans and preparing his tools. But again, Optimus grabbed his arm, just as he had in the first loop so long ago.

"You cannot stop this. It will continue until you give in." Optimus's optics flickered and his voice weakened.

"There is no escape." The Prime's field flared and Smokescreen cowered as his spark blazed in agony.

"This is the will of Primus." Optimus uttered before his entire frame seized up and fell still. Ratchet startled awake as his alarm blared, but it was too late. Smokescreen stepped back and watched on in total silence as Ratchet tried everything to restore Optimus's frame and force his spark to continue to blaze. 

Optimus told him to give up, to let him die. After so many long years and countless hours thrown into his training? No, Smokescreen would not be giving up. He was going to save Optimus Prime, whether the Prime liked it or not. He made a promise, and he was going to keep it. 

He woke in his pod, but this time, Smokescreen's processors whirled with a new plan. He had written off trying to keep Optimus from sacrificing himself simply because he thought it would be impossible to convince him. That was likely still true, but Smokescreen was wiser now. If he could get the team to listen, he could make this work.

Again, he was accepted amongst the Autobots without much argument. Optimus took one look at him and allowed him access. He was far more agreeable than the first loop, but Smokescreen was different now. A trained warrior and medic, he had skills that put him on par with the rest of the team. It made sense for the Prime to allow him amongst the ranks of the team. 

It certainly saved Smokescreen trouble. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

"The Star Saber is on Earth and Megatron will arrive to try and take it. He will not succeed, but if he knows how powerful the blade is, he will create his own weapon. The Dark Star Saber." Smokescreen rattled off what he knew as he stood before the team, his expression steely. 

"How do you know that?" Arcee's question came off as more of a threat, but Smokescreen remained unfazed. He knew the team far better than they would ever know. 

"I have seen what is coming. I know exactly what the Decepticons are going to do and how they will do it. I know every possible variable for the most important events ahead, and I can tell you now that unless you listen to me, you will lose." The team froze, Optimus regarded him with something akin to shock, and Smokescreen stood firmly. He would make them listen, no matter the cost.

"So you're a Con?" Bulkhead all but growled before charging forward, not heeding Optimus's command to stand down. Smokescreen did not so much as flinch as he tucked and rolled, bouncing back onto his pedes and dropping down into a combat position. The Wrecker huffed and came at him again, but every time he swung his hammers, Smokescreen moved out of the way with expert precision. He knew Bulkhead better than the Wrecker knew himself. He trained under the heavy hitter and performed enough examinations over the loops to know each and every seam by spark.

"Enough. You are wasting your time." Slipping under Bulkhead's arm, Smokescreen landed a solid punch to the exposed cabling on his shoulder. Bulkhead's arm immediately went limp, and he fell to a knee, clutching the limb and looking up at him in anger.

"You little-!" Glaring, Smokescreen walked away from the cursing Wrecker and again stood his ground. 

"I mean you no harm. I am only here to help you escape the doom that is coming. So please, listen to me." The team had their weapons ready, all save for Optimus who regarded him in interest. Smokescreen prepared to run if he needed to, but he had no intention of leaving until he got what he wanted.

"Stand down. We will listen to what he has to say." The Prime spoke and the team gawked.

"Optimus, you can't be serious!" Ratchet began before he was silenced.

"We will heed his wisdom for a time and see what it brings." That was the end of that. Smokescreen grinned, and he was quick to begin further explanations. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

He had not fully expected things to work out during his first attempt at piloting the team. As such, he did not despair when he failed to keep the team out of trouble the first time. There were always new variables, always new data points to consider. Loops came and went. Sometimes Megatron found the base earlier, and sometimes he did so later. Optimus always died in the tunnels in those loops. Other times, Smokescreen managed to convince the team to drag Optimus kicking and screaming away when the blast rained down. In those instances, the Prime was always killed by a stray bullet or through some other totally unexpected means.

It was infuriating, but Smokescreen learned and he adapted. Again and again he tried different things, moving the team in different ways and trying to avoid any and all potential causes of death for the Prime. However, as the deaths added up, there was a need for him to begin recording his thoughts and plans.

He began to keep a log each loop, just to ensure he didn't miss anything. And through those efforts, he found himself working alongside Optimus at the main console far more often than he anticipated. It was unsettling the first few loops, with Optimus often just standing by watching in silence. However, as the loops wore on and Smokescreen grew more and more passive as he worked, Optimus crept closer. Eventually, during the one hundredth and fifty seventh loop, Optimus spoke to him.

"You carry the weariness of the trial. I assume this is far from your first time experiencing these things." Smokescreen, no longer surprised by just about anything, nodded once and kept up his typing. Optimus hummed as he continued.

"You aren't willing to give in. I understand. I behaved similarly during my trial." Again, Smokescreen said nothing. He had no clue what this 'trial' was, but frankly he didn't care. The 'trial' wanted Optimus to die, and so Smokescreen would give it the middle finger regardless of the specifics of its nature. 

"I would like to teach you." That gave Smokescreen pause. He looked away from the screen, only now feeling the weariness hanging on his very core. Optimus smiled gently and placed a servo on his shoulder.

"I did not have the luxury of a teacher during my trial. I wish to give you what knowledge I have, so that when yours ends, you may perform better than I did." Confusion laced every part of Smokescreen's mind even as he processed the words. Optimus, with far more kindness than Smokescreen had ever seen him, drew Smokescreen in for a hug. 

He remained stiff for a klik, but as tears began to fall from his optics, he leaned into the Prime's embrace. It had been so long since he allowed himself to be cared for, to feel. The mission always came first... and yet in Optimus's arms, he found himself safe and comforted. He couldn't help his tears.

"I will not remember you when you come back, but speak the words you were imbued with when you were given the brand, and I shall know what you are." Comforting touches to his helm had Smokescreen nodding even as he sobbed. Oh, how it hurt. So many deaths, so many loops. The same cycle, never-ending. He hated it.

"I wish that it was not you who was chosen to bear this burden, but there is nothing that can be done now." The words hurt, but Smokescreen understood. Whatever this trial was, Optimus was familiar with it. The Prime knew and understood. He refused to believe that there was nothing he could do to change Optimus's fate, but he would relish what comfort he was given.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

He continued attempting to pilot the team, guiding them around the various key events he now knew as well as his own designation. He failed to save Optimus each time, but he did not allow himself to give up. Every instance was recorded and each time he returned, he rewrote his records. Somewhere there was a set of choices that would ensure Optimus lived, and Smokescreen was going to find it or die trying.

"Speak with confidence, Smokescreen. A leader must be able to convince those under him to follow a cause even to death." Optimus was a distraction in the extreme. Ever since that loop, Optimus had taken the time to teach Smokescreen everything under the sun whenever there was a spare moment between them. He should have really stopped allowing Optimus to teach him, but he couldn't help but crave the attention and understanding.

"Broaden your brushstrokes. The Praxian dialect requires less formality and more elegance." Language, culture, and history were a part of every loop now. Evenings once spent training with the team or under Ratchet were instead dedicated to study of Cybertron and the ways of rulership under the Prime. Smokescreen quite frankly enjoyed every single lesson. There was always something new to learn, and he never ceased to marvel at the stories despite his general apathy toward life in general. 

"That strategy would work in most cases, but you must consider all the variables. Let us review the battle for Kaon and the siege of Iacon to review." War tactics that Smokescreen might have found boring long ago were now the staple of his life. He loved every lesson, and he adored the fact that despite the rest of the team failing to remember their bonds, Optimus remained static. As soon as Smokescreen uttered the words and mentioned what the Prime taught him, Optimus would immediately ask how far his education had progressed and work from there. 

It was a comfort. However, with every loop, his agitation grew into boiling anger. None of the variables were working. His calculations always came out wrong. Every combination of choices led to Optimus's death, regardless of what was done. The forge's usage meant nothing, the deaths of teammates were irrelevant, and it seemed as though nothing could be done to stop the most impossible slag from killing Optimus if he didn't die after the blast struck the base.

It accumulated until Smokescreen could take it no longer.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Three hundred and seventy three loops. None were successful. HOW were none of them successful?! He had done EVERYTHING.

"Why won't you live?" He murmured as he was brought back to the base for what felt like the billionth time. The team looked at him in confusion, but Optimus understood. He always understood.

"It is inevitable." The Prime answered simply as if he were talking about the weather. Smokescreen, despite being long hardened by every imaginable outcome and horror, scowled and flared his plating before clamping it down tight around him.

"I've done EVERYTHING, Optimus! Every possible variable! Every conceivable set of choices! I have made them all! WHY WON'T YOU LIVE!?" He cried as tears pooled in his optics. How hard was it for a mech to be kept alive? Evidently, if the mech was Optimus, it was fragging impossible.

"You always speak of this fragging trial and tell me to give in, but HOW CAN I DO THAT!? You are the PRIME! We need you! How can I just let you DIE?!" His vocalizer strained, and his voice dipped into static as he screamed. Everything had reached a boiling point, and he was unable to stop the stream of tears that poured down his cheeks as Optimus ushered the team back and stepped forward, kneeling down to Smokescreen's level.

"You must make the correct choice, Smokescreen. This torment will not end until you do. There is nothing in this universe capable of defying the will of the divine." Smokescreen wanted to scream more, but in the end all he could do was cling to Optimus uselessly as the Prime drew him in for a hug. 

He heard the team murmuring as Optimus took him to an unused hab, the one that always ended up being given to him. Optimus stayed with him as he cried and blabbered, pouring out all his woes and his anger. He told Optimus everything, not sparing anything as he described the pain of lost bonds and the frustration of never being able to win. All the while, Optimus hummed a simple song until at last recharge took him.

He did not get up when the dawn came. He didn't want to. He stayed in his hab and huddled in the corner. Why should he care what the team thought of him? It was useless anyway. The only time he did much other than lie around and lament life was when Optimus brought him energon and coaxed him into drinking. He didn't want to fuel. He wanted it to be over.

Eventually, Ratchet started to bring him energon as well. Part of Smokescreen languished in the guilt of being a deadweight, but he was too tired to care. Optimus never shouted or scolded him. Ratchet made attempts to talk him through it, but Smokescreen remained silent. There was no point. It made no difference anyway.

The loop ended as it always did, and Smokescreen was dragged out of the base by the team despite his uselessness. They treated him kindly even while on the run, trying to help him even as his vision began to swim.

“Smokescreen, can you look at me? Please, we need you to be aware.” Ratchet knelt in front of him, true grief etched onto his features. He needed hope, but Smokescreen had nothing to offer.

“There is no point. He always dies, and he always will. I’ve tried everything.” Smokescreen muttered into his arms as he sat curled up in the junkyard Ratchet had hauled him to. The medic rubbed his face, trying to hide tears as he attempted to stay composed.

“I don’t understand Smokescreen. We need to get back to the team before the Decepticons-” Ratchet went on about a variable Smokescreen had already considered to the point of true apathy, but the mention of the Decepticons caught his attention. 

The Decepticons.

What a fool he was. They were the one variable he had never considered properly. He’d tried moving the team to his specifications, but he had not even so much as attempted to touch the source of the problem to begin with. 

“You have given me a new variable to test out.” Smokescreen managed a crooked smile as his vision continued to swim. Ratchet looked at him in absolute confusion, but Smokescreen merely chuckled.

“You are so going to hate me for this, but this next run, I am going to become a Con.” The elder medic looked absolutely baffled, but in his emotional turmoil Smokescreen merely laughed.

Finally, a new variable to consider. He could still prove Optimus wrong and save the fragging Prime from a universe that seemed dead set on killing him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The loop began and Smokescreen steeled himself. This was going to suck big time, but at this point, there was no other option. 

“Soldier, what are you doing?” Optimus called out to him, but Smokescreen merely stood in the center of the crater coldly. He needed to play the part to make this happen. As much as he despised it, this was the only choice he had.

“My allegiance is to Lord Megatron of the Decepticons.” Raising his blasters, Smokescreen fired on the team. He took care not to hit any of them, as Vehicons finally saw that he was an ally and joined him on the battlefield, pushing the team back. The expressions of shock on their faces hurt him more than he thought, but this was what needed to be done.

The Decepticons were rightfully dubious, but he was brought to the Nemesis, where he knelt before Megatron. It felt foul to do so, but after so many loops… there was little he would not do for the sake of his mission. 

“An elite guardsmech betraying the Autobots to come to me. That seems too good to be true, don’t you think so, Starscream?” Smokescreen remained in his kneeled position, but his sensors blared as he noticed the Lord of Vos nearing him. The skinny flier smiled evilly before strutting toward Megatron’s side.

“Indeed my lord. Not to mention, this reeks of a trap . A grounder has little use to the Decepticon cause anyway.” Frag-

“Then I believe it is decided. I have no need of you guardsmech.” Smokescreen only had time to regret his life decisions before he was face to face with a blaster and promptly knew no more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Again, he was in his fragging. POD. 

It seemed that not even death could save him, and evidently, Megatron would not be easy to fool.

“What is your name, soldier?” Ah, there it was again. Smokescreen stood stiffly before the Autobot leader, the one he was trying so slagging hard to save. He sighed and gave his designation for the millionth time as plans formed in his processor. This was going to take far more work than he thought… but he could be patient. He’d long ago mastered the art.

There was a great deal of trial and error involved in the recruitment process. He had to get very good at remaining inconspicuous. Since death was apparently no longer an issue for him, Smokescreen took more risks over the next few dozen loops. He attempted the rushed recruitment a few more times before becoming acutely familiar with the pain of getting his helm blown off and promptly deciding that it wasn’t worth it in that manner.

From there he developed a plan to move slowly. Getting in contact with the Cons was not hard at all, and becoming an inside agent was even easier. He took absolutely no joy in feeding information to the Decepticons, but he needed an in. So when the relics came into play, it was the best information he could give without jeopardizing the team.

Not that it mattered much. He just needed to exploit this variable until Optimus survived. Then he could deal with the fallout. Even still, it took a hundred or so loops before he managed to find just the right line to walk. If he was too eager, the Cons would kill him on account of suspicion. If he didn’t tread carefully enough, the Bots would get him. He was not exactly the most pleased when Ratchet killed him once after catching him. Arcee cut him down a few times. Bulkhead was too heavy to land a hit and Bee generally didn’t aim to kill, but both still slagging hurt . Not to mention, he never enjoyed having to off himself afterwards in order to reset things.

Perhaps it was an abuse of the loop, but he simply didn’t care. Wounds hurt less now that he knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. He hated betraying his fellows, but they wouldn’t remember in the end, just like they didn’t remember the bonds they forged over so many cycles.

Optimus found out he was a double agent every single time, though. Smokescreen had no clue how the Prime did it, but as soon as Smokescreen began negotiations with Megatron, the Prime was onto him. However, he never stopped Smokescreen, not once. He never helped, that much was for sure. Yet, he would still teach Smokescreen as if nothing were different about him. The lessons continued, and Optimus took the time to give Smokescreen access to spy training videos left behind by Jazz before the Exodus. 

He didn’t like thinking about how much it must have hurt Optimus to watch Smokescreen do what he did. Smokescreen didn’t like thinking about the team much at all anymore. 

Finally, after what was likely over eight hundred loops, Smokescreen managed to swap sides with reasonable credibility. He gave Megatron the location of relics and sabotaged the team in a manner that wasn’t really meaningful. Bulkhead would walk off the burns, and Arcee was small enough that being chucked wouldn’t be all that bad. Walking onto the Nemesis was terrifying, even more so once he had to begin blending in.

“Since you have proven capable in a variety of fields, you may decide who you wish to serve under directly.” Megatron gestured toward his lieutenants. Starscream made a disgusted face, Knockout shrugged and moved on, Soundwave said nothing as usual, and Shockwave did whatever the pit it was Shockwave did. 

More variables to consider.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Deciding it would be best to cover his bases, Smokescreen stuck with Knockout for a few dozen loops. He appreciated the mech and managed to weasel all sorts of juicy information out of him once he proved a capable doctor and showed himself willing to polish the elder medic’s plating. It honestly wasn’t the worst experience. Smokescreen never looked better, but the position of Knockout’s fellow doctor simply wasn’t high ranking enough to get him anywhere, even if it did yield valuable information on the Decepticons. Of course, having spent so long training under Ratchet, there were a few interesting interactions in his loops before he moved on.

“What are you doing? Using a circular saw on a regular patient is asking for disaster!” Smokescreen exclaimed as he reached for a normal saw. Knockout pouted and activated his in-built saw to emphasize his point.

“It is more effective, though, is it not?” It was at times like these that Smokescreen wished he was with Ratchet again.

“The patient is AWAKE, Knockout.” He stressed while rubbing his face. Obviously, he had maintained a few bad habits from his time as a medic. He could really go for some high grade. Ratchet let him sneak a few sips off and on, and Primus, he really wanted a bottle at this point. 

“And? Anyone who walks in here knows that it's my way or the highway.” The red medic smiled lovingly at his perfectly polished saw and Smokescreen lamented life. Knockout was a pain in the aft, but he was a good distraction.

Of course eventually he needed to get back to work, and so after an extra loop just to blow off a bit of steam, Smokescreen turned to the next mech on the list.

He went to Starscream next simply because he was familiar enough with the seeker in his many many visits to the medical bay. Starscream hated him, and he hated Starscream. It was by far the least productive few loops Smokescreen had ever dealt with. He spent more time taking Starscream’s punishments for him than actually doing anything. Starscream got him killed twice by framing him, and that was enough for Smokescreen to decide it wasn’t worth it.

Shockwave was next on the agenda, and much like Knockout, while a valuable learning experience, there was not nearly enough influence in his position to help him. He could do nothing to assist the Autobots from the labs. He attempted releasing creatures a few times, but that simply never ended well. He tended to wind back up with the Autobots in restraints until everything came crashing and burning down. Science was never his best class anyway.

Finally, he settled on Soundwave. With the others already tested and Smokescreen being totally unwilling to risk it with Megatron without further information, he resigned himself to serving under the creep fest that was the spymaster. Smokescreen lost count of how many times Soundwave sniffed out his intentions before they could even begin. Those times ended with him being thrown off the edge of the Nemesis to his death. He was not fond of crushing as a form of offlinement. It took too long.

After what must have been a series of loops entering into the thousands, Smokescreen at last got himself together enough to last more than a cycle under Soundwave. He religiously studied Jazz’s instructional videos while with the Autobots as an inside agent and did his very best to play his part. Then, when he got onto the Nemesis and chose Soundwave, he went through what quickly became a very routine series of interrogations. Smokescreen found that the best way to not be caught was to never think of anything Autobot or mission related. It was a hard ask, but he learned a few meditation tactics over the loops that worked well enough.

He made a few valiant attempts at getting to know Soundwave for information’s sake, but the spymaster never told him much. The best he got was access to the Decepticon databanks, an event that changed his perspective on things wildly. It was also the only time Soundwave ever actually spoke to him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Soundwave… is this really what happened at the high council?” Smokescreen asked hesitantly as he reviewed the file. Ratchet and the Autobots always spoke of things as though it were Megatron who caused the war… but looking at this, it seemed the betrayal went both ways.

“Megatronus: Wanted power to free our people. Orion Pax: Was politically tied. Both made decisions in their best interest. Neither could comprehend the other.” Soundwave spoke and Smokescreen listened. It was no wonder Megatron wanted Optimus dead. If things were as it seemed, then the war was the result of one big misunderstanding turned into a grudge.

How ridiculous.

“Why are we still at war? Why couldn’t they both have just talked?” He found himself asking as he looked over the footage showing the rapid changes in both Autobot and Decepticon values over the vorns. Each side grew more and more radical to the point of detrimental behavior taking sway. Optimus taught him much of the old history of Cybertron, but not much about this.

“Megatron: Was humiliated. Orion Pax: Was coerced. Something changed. Megatron: Became darker. Orion Pax: Became Optimus Prime.” The spymaster replied emotionlessly as he typed away at his console. Smokescreen nodded grimly and returned to work. Was this really all the war was? Frag it all, he just wanted Optimus to live. 

“Megatron isn’t right in the helm anymore, so why are you still loyal? Whoever he was isn’t who he is now.” Datacables hovered above him threateningly as the spymaster turned to face him. Smokescreen froze, but he did not back down. Soundwave seemed to think about the proper response before he settled on calming back down.

“Megatron: May not be fully sane. But Megatron has vision. Megatron: Is not a dead mech walking.” Soundwave’s spindly digit pointed toward a screen, and Smokescreen’s optics widened a fraction as he saw an image of Optimus standing in what looked to be a proud manner.

“What do you mean by that?” He questioned sharper than he intended. Soundwave regarded him with suspicion, and Smokescreen knew he was done. Even if he got his answer, he was fragged.

“Optimus Prime: Has been waiting for death. Smokescreen: Shall be there to greet him in the Allspark.” Smokescreen only had enough time to process the information before a blade sliced straight through his neck. He fell to the ground with a pained gurgle before his vision turned into a mess of color, and he woke in his pod once more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

He made valiant efforts to use his position amongst the Decepticons to help. He really did. But attempting to help the Autobots from the Nemesis was an impossible task. Again and again he returned, only to meet the same roadblock. If Megatron didn’t find the base, he found Optimus. The result was always the same. No amount of smuggled information, swapped allegiances, or dedicated spying ever did anything. Nothing. Ever. Worked.

He even tried to kill Megatron a few times. He might have had the experience of a mech with millennia of combat experience on his belt after so many loops, but Megatron was large and in charge. Smokescreen just wasn’t fast or old enough to do the necessary damage needed to offline the fragger. Thus, he changed his approach yet again. He attempted to try and play therapist to the warlord in an effort to possibly convince him to sign for peace. It was a vain attempt, and he knew it, but still, he tried.

And surprisingly, despite how much he still despised the mech, he came to understand him, just as he did with all the others he served under.

“My Lord, why do you hate Optimus so much?” He asked firmly but without any tonal indicators. Megatron killed him a few times for being too mouthy. He had long learned to question carefully. 

“Inquisitive today, aren’t you?” Megatron shot back with a hint of venom. Smokescreen held his ground, Megatron respected those who did not flinch.

“I joined the Decepticons to help end this war that has gone on for too long. I want to know your views, why you began all of this, and why this war has continued.” Smokescreen explained simply as he stood at attention. He was not fond of the darker purple tones he had been painted in since he began his infiltration, but he appreciated how it shone now. Knockout had taught him a thing or two about plating care, and it showed.

“Well, since you are so eager to know, allow me to keep things simple. I created the Decepticons in order to give our people equality and freedom from the caste system.” Megatron began, his voice becoming softer and less… harsh as he spoke. Smokescreen tilted his helm ever so slightly in curiosity as he listened. This was… informative.

“Cybertron was torn between the high and the low caste. The latter were treated as cattle, slaves to be abused, while the former relished in the gains of millions of mecha unable to get proper fuel, much less go anywhere in the world.” Passionate. That was the way to describe Megatron’s words. Not the vicious, angry rants that Smokescreen knew among the Autobots, but rather a soft and true care for the issue.

“I rose up with my fellows to speak for the people. I took Orion Pax under my wing, teaching him of the issues of our world and showing him all that he could not see in his comfortable middle caste position.” Smokescreen observed as for a split second, Megatron looked young and hopeful again. The scowl he always wore faded away, and his optics glinted as he stared into space. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“When we stood before the high council, Orion Pax, whom I trusted with everything, betrayed me. He shot down my proclamations and stood for what he saw as peace. He took everything from my cause, humiliating us.” Megatron’s servos shook with renewed anger, and Smokescreen stepped back on instinct as the warlord turned to face him. 

“You remind me of him. Curious and cautious. Maybe that’s why I haven’t killed you yet.” The warlord growled, his digits twitching before he turned away again. Smokescreen’s vents fluttered as he struggled to return to his normal cooling cycle, fear thrumming in his fuel lines.

“Or perhaps you remind me of myself. You have that spark of determination in your gaze… and that makes me wonder, what is it you are fighting so hard for? What conviction has taken your spark so fully as to abandon your faction for mine?” The tables had turned. Smokescreen stalled, panic beginning to flare in his spark alongside the brand. He expected to lie, but instead he ended up speaking the truth.

“I was told to give in. I refuse to accept that order, and so I am fighting against it in order to stop needless death.” Silence reigned for a long moment before Megatron nodded once.

“A noble goal, guardsmech. You will make a fine Decepticon.” Megatron stalked away and Smokescreen stood in shock. However, as he returned to his quarters and thought…

Was Megatron really wrong? At this point, his goals had long since shifted away from the Autobots and more toward ending everything. 

Perhaps he was a Decepticon deep down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

It wasn’t fair. So many loops, and it was all for nothing.

He did everything in his power to work with the Decepticons, and yet absolutely nothing worked. And after his discussion with Megatron, he began to come to a realization. 

What was it he was really fighting for? Obviously he wanted to save Optimus, but he wasn’t trying to really stop the Decepticons anymore, was he? In the beginning, he put everything he had into fighting back, into giving the Autobots their victory. But now? After so many loops? He just wanted the war to stop. He wanted everything to end and for the needless death to cease. 

It hit him rather suddenly, but after what could have been thousands of loops, Smokescreen at last admitted that he was… tired. Truly tired. He fought so very hard for so long. He rose up time and time again, hoping for things to change. And yet, just as Optimus said, there was no escape.

He wasn’t sure when he made his way to his quarters or what look it was, but Smokescreen made a choice. It had been so very long…

“Optimus.” He spoke into the communicator softly, hoping the Prime would hear him.

“Smokescreen, are you alright?” Optimus asked immediately, concern lacing his tone. Smokescreen merely sighed, rubbing his face. He had no more tears to shed, not anymore. 

“You were right. There is no escape… is there?” Optimus remained silent for a long moment, and Smokescreen could hear the nervous flutter of the Prime’s vents before he answered.

“No. There is no escape. I have tried, we all have.”

The words echoed like a weight in his spark chamber, and all Smokescreen could do was darkly chuckle as a dry sob built in his throat.

“What do I do now?” He asked gently as he rubbed at his face, trying to keep his composure. Optimus sighed across the line and spoke as though he were soothing a wayward sparkling.

“Finish this cycle, and when it ends, come back to me. Let things play out as they should. I believe you finally understand.” A small part of Smokescreen wanted to keep fighting, to ignore the Prime’s advice. But as he thought, it made sense. What would further struggle gain him now?

“Alright… I’m sorry Optimus. I’m so sorry. I tried to save you. I tried so fragging hard.” His words came out in a choked mix of static and sobs, and he wept. Optimus, the kind mech that he was, uttered a single sympathetic phrase.

“I know Smokescreen. You would not have been chosen otherwise.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━━

When the loop began again, Smokescreen didn’t fight, he didn’t weep. Instead, he joined the team quietly and mingled with them as if he did not know what was to come. He kept his skill and knowledge behind wraps and pretended just to gain a sense of normalcy. The only times he allowed the mask to drop were when Optimus came to him, and they would sit and speak. Smokescreen told him of all his experiences, and the Prime in turn nodded in understanding. 

Optimus did not share what he knew, but he didn’t need to. Smokescreen didn’t want to know. Not anymore.

Something in Smokescreen’s spark told him this would be the end of his endless loop. And so he devoted himself to bonding with the team. He did not laugh as he once did, but he played with Bumblebee, enjoying the familiarity of video games and good times. He trained alongside Arcee and Bulkhead, remembering bonds now long gone, as he pretended to match their moves and flounder despite having more experience than they likely did at this point. He went to Ratchet regularly, asking to be taught the art of medicine as a pastime. The doctor was a crankpot, but it was familiar, and that was all Smokescreen wanted. 

The children kept him busy, the team gave him a home. Beneath it all, he knew what was to come, and so did Optimus. Neither fought against it when the time came for the base to burn. And when Smokescreen dragged Optimus from the rubble down into the tunnels, he did not cry as the Prime spoke.

“The time for a new leader… is upon us.” How very familiar. Smokescreen almost didn’t hear with how many times he had endured the same line endlessly.

“I know. You’ve said this before.” He muttered as he sat beside Optimus, holding his servo in a comforting way. He was older now, wiser. No longer did he panic at the sight of his ailing leader.

“You show no fear… your conviction has eased… you are… ready.” Optimus’s hoarse voice caused Smokescreen to frown, but he nodded all the same. For once, the brand did not burn. Instead, it soothed the pain of his long memory.

This was meant to be. He knew this now.

“Forgive me… for leaving you like this.” Optimus gasped, his frame tensing up as he clung to life. Smokescreen washed his field over the elder mech and Optimus attempted to do the same in return. They understood one another. There was no point in fighting it now.

“I pray that our kind… have no more need for a Prime… once this war… comes to its end.” The Prime whispered as his frame failed him. Smokescreen merely nodded again as he replied softly.

“No other should endure this torment.” He agreed quietly. Optimus coughed and managed a smile before squeezing Smokescreen’s servo.

“I do not remember all you have endured… but I know in my spark… that a true leader stands before me… right now…” They shared their fields in silence as time dragged on. Smokescreen didn’t bother keeping track of it as he waited until he had the strength to make a new oath.

He failed to save Optimus, but he had not failed his people… not yet.

“I won’t let you down Optimus. I promise you, Cybertron will be restored, and this war will end.” With the last of his strength, Optimus smiled and Smokescreen returned it. Then, just like that, the Prime vented his last and fell still. Smokescreen remained with him, holding his servo for a klik until Optimus’s chassis split and the Matrix revealed itself.

He wasn’t afraid anymore. He had no reason to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The world was brighter now in a strange way. No longer did knowledge of the future loom over his helm. For once, all was calm. But of course, there was still work to be done. Admiration could come later.

“Where is Optimus Prime?” Megatron growled, his blaster aimed at the team who were held in chains. They glared at Megatron, but their expressions quickly turned to shock.

“Optimus Prime has become one with the Allspark. I am Nebulous Prime, his ordained heir.” Nebulous now stood at around the same height as his predecessor, but it did not concern him. The Matrix sat heavy in his spark chamber, but it did not burn. With the memories of his fellow Primes imbuing him, he now knew that one day the weight would kill him.

But for now, all was well.

“I come with an offer of peace and a plan to restore our world.” The team gasped, and Megatron regarded him with pure suspicion. Nebulous did not falter as he strode forward, uncaring of the weapons aimed at him. He was no longer functionally immortal, but death did not shake him.

“What is it you offer Prime ?” There was a hint of sorrow in Megatron’s tone. Nebulous noted it with a hum. Perhaps he had not thought this far, but whatever the case, it was irrelevant now. 

“We shall repair Cybertron together. I shall retrieve the Allspark, and as co-leaders, we shall fix our shattered world.” The team looked ready to object, but Nebulous paid them no mind. They would not understand. How could they? So very blinded by war and hate. They did not know the agony of reality.

“How am I to be assured you won’t eliminate me the moment it becomes convenient?” Megatron questioned with a low hiss. The Matrix thrummed comfortingly, providing knowledge which Nebulous happily accepted as he spoke again.

“I am not my predecessor. My trial was different from his… and I know that what you seek to gain at your core is also the goal of all Cybertronians.” All those present paused, and Ratchet looked ready to purge. Megatron for his part lowered his blaster and seemed contemplative. 

“You truly desire peace, little Prime?”

The question hung in the air as Nebulous approached and extended a servo. 

“More than anything else. This war has dragged on long enough, so please, let us bring it to its end.” He and Megatron locked optics for a long klik before the warlord nodded and took his servo, shaking it with considerate strength. 

“For Cybertron.” Megatron murmured, his expression returned to that hopeful visage Smokescreen saw so many loops ago.

This was not the end Smokescreen wanted, but it was the end Nebulous strove for. Personal connections and petty grudges meant little now. All that mattered was restoring their home. Enough had perished as it was. 

Optimus would have wanted this.

Nebulous would not fail, not again. 

“For Cybertron.” He agreed.

And he meant it with all his spark. 

Wherever Optimus was, Nebulous hoped that he was finally at peace.

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 20- found family

I played with so many ideas for this one but settled for Rusl adopting Link. Idk I hc that he adopted Link officially during the temple of time (that’s mentioned in one of my love at twilight fics) and I also headcanon that he discovered his ability to turn into a wolf before the temple. This would probably make more sense with context but hey I’m really good at writing fics without any bdksbsksbsk. Also! I love the idea that the resistance members go with Link into the temples. So Auru goes to the arbiter’s ground and Gerudo desert, Ashei goes to Snowpeak and the Snowpeak ruins, you get the idea. So naturally Rusl goes to the temple of time with Link, also with recent events it actually made sense 😌idk how I feel about this one it’s ok I guess

Warnings: mentions of an injury. This is more wholesome honestly

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rusl was at war with himself. When he returned to Ordon, he had hoped to investigate deeper in the woods, curious about a temple that was rumored to be there. But what he didn’t expect to happen was shooting Link in the leg and discovering his otherworldly ability to transform into a wolf. It was a mess, Rusl’s guilt for hurting the boy that he took under his wing was sheer agony, and the strange imp friend that traveled with Link didn’t make it any better. Link had reassured Rusl over and over again, but he couldn’t forgive himself, not with the way Link limped around, acting as if nothing was wrong.

Link had asked Rusl about the forest and the strange temple hidden within it, and despite the fact that Rusl didn’t want to be near him to avoid hurting him again, he couldn’t let Link investigate the forest alone. He knew that Midna was with him, but he admittedly didn’t trust her with his injury, and Link didn’t know how to take a break even when he was in pain, so he grabbed his beloved golden cuccoo and followed Link into the woods.

Rusl tried to keep his distance from Link, only keeping a protective eye on him, but with how creepy the woods were and how easy it was to get lost, he decided to stick to Link’s side, despite his own mind yelling at him for doing so. Link didn’t seem to mind, he was concentrated on catching a strange child playing a weird tune. As soon as Link saw him, he shot the kid with his bow and arrow, and a new passageway would open. It shocked Rusl, but the child didn’t seem to be injured from it, so he brushed it off and followed Link. Eventually, the child went away and opened a way through the lost woods. What followed next was a whirlwind of events, Link plunged his master sword through a pedestal beyond stone statues, shadow beasts ambushed them, they traveled through time, Link plunged his sword through a pedestal again, stairs appeared, and strange bird-like creatures rushed up the stairs, leaving Rusl baffled.

Link only chuckled awkwardly and entered the temple, and Rusl quickly followed, keeping a close eye on Link. Link seemed rather upbeat, he and Midna were chatting about random things, but he limped along the halls and doors, every limp feeling like a dagger through Rusl’s heart.

The three observed a statue, which stood alone beside a door frame. Rusl frowned, it looked like there would be another statue mirroring the other one, but a spot where it would be was empty. Midna and Link picked up on this as well, and Midna suggested that he turned into a wolf so that he could double check. Rusl didn’t know how being a wolf could confirm that, but he decided not to question it.

Midna held a strange crystal and put it up to Link’s forehead, and he was surrounded by shadows, being replaced with a wolf. Rusl watched with nausea building up inside him. He hadn’t seen his wolf form since he shot him with an arrow, but it was surreal seeing it again, and he had to tell himself that it was Link. It’s ok… that’s your boy… it’s ok…

“You ok, Rusl?”

Rusl looked at Midna who was perched on top of Link. She was smirking at him while Link sniffed the empty area.

“I’m fine, just… feeling a little sick.”

Midna hummed. “Yeah, guess going through time like that is jarring isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

Midna gave a more genuine smile as Link perked his ears. She looked closer at the empty spot and cheered. “I knew it! A statue was once here! Looks like we’ll need to get it if we want to get through this door.”

Link turned back into a Hylian and winced as he put weight on his leg. Rusl watched him worriedly as he leaned against the wall.

“Link? Are you ok?” He asked, and Link waved it off.

“‘M fine. Transforming with an injury just hurts a lot is all.”

Rusl pursed his lips and looked down. He remembered when he turned into a Hylian before his very eyes with his blasted arrow protruding from his leg. The screams he made still haunted him.

The three traveled through the temple, Rusl being unusually quiet. He kept his distance from Link and Midna, and a couple of times, they got separated due to a door suddenly shutting and locking Rusl out. He was more careful after that.

Eventually, Link grew quiet as well, and he stuck back with Rusl as Midna rambled about the creepy spiders. Rusl felt him glancing at him a couple of times, and when Midna floated away, he turned to the swordsman.

“Rusl… I… is everything alright?” He asked, wringing his hands anxiously.

Rusl stared at him. There was no reason to lie, Link wasn’t a child, but he could feel the relationship was more tense than before. He didn’t know how to bring his feelings up.

“If—if you feel bad about what happened, it’s ok,” Link mumbled. “You didn’t know that was me, and I scared you…”

Rusl shook his head. “It’s not ok, Link. I could’ve killed you. I was— I was trying to kill you! I could never forgive myself if I was the reason that you died and—- spirits above Link it’s not ok!”

“How many times am I gonna have to tell you that it’s ok,” Link said softly.

“How can this be ok? Link I shot you! You’re still limping and you’re pretending everything is fine! I just— I can’t get over this! None of this is ok!”

Link looked down ashamed, and Rusl kicked himself. He didn’t want Link to feel like he was being reprimanded, he did nothing wrong. He sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Link, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. You– you’re like a son to me and I want you to feel safe around me but I ruined that for you, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to stay by me and Uli because I’m upset over this whole situation.” Rusl let out a huff of frustration and looked up at Link, who’s eyes were widened in shock.

“What did you say?”

Rusl stopped and looked at Link confused. “I– I said that-that you’re…” Rusl’s voice trailed off and his eyes widened in realization. Why did he have to bring this up now? He sighed, figuring there was no reason to back track now. “Link, I– I see you as a son. Ever since you came into mine and Uli’s life I’ve felt a sense of responsibility towards you. You felt like a blessing from the goddesses to me. I mean the others feel the same way, Colin adores you and Uli adores you and… I know with recent events you wouldn’t feel the same way but… goddesses we love you like family, Link.”

Tears started welling up in Link’s eyes as he stared at Rusl in shock. Rusl gasped and took a step back, not expecting that reaction.

“I-I’m sorry Link, I didn’t– I didn’t mean to upset you I–”

“You really think that?”

Link’s voice was soft and it wavered as his hands clung to each other. He looked like he was scared to move, but the way he shifted his feet made it look like he wanted to. Rusl sighed.

“Of course I do. I’ve always thought it. That’s why I wanted to teach you sword fighting and why Uli invited you to our dinners and… why we want you to be there when our daughter is born,” Rusl turned away. “Link, me and Uli want you to be apart of our family. Of course it’s all about how you feel, I don’t want to put any pressure on you but–”

Rusl was interrupted as Link ran to him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“I always wanted to be a part of a family,” Link cried, burying his face in Rusl’s neck. Rusl quickly wrapped his arms around his boy despite wanting to keep his distance. They stood there for a moment as Link cried, with Rusl shedding a few tears as well. Midna finally came back and watched the two with a smirk, her head tilted in a teasing manner.

“Oh, so glad you two could make up. Now come on, we got a statue to find!” Midna started tugging at Link’s shirt and he quickly wiped his tears away, stepping back from Rusl. Midna’s smirk softened a bit and she wiped away a lingering tear before floating near a door, watching them from a distance. Link’s face turned a little red and he scratched the back of his head.

“Um… is it… is it ok if I call you ‘pa’ now?” He asked, looking away bashfully. Rusl only chuckled and gave him one more side hug.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, my son.”

Link beamed and rested his head on his shoulder before jogging to where Midna was, despite Rusl cringing at his injured leg. He couldn’t help but laugh at Midna’s scolding, figuring that she could be trusted with Link’s injury. She did punch him in the face in order to protect Link. Rusl felt much better about the injury though. Knowing that Link didn’t at least hate him was relieving, but the fact that Link still cared deeply for him and the rest of the family was truly heartwarming. Though, the memory of Link’s fear filled eyes, his fear of being perceived as a monster, his screams of pain, Rusl never wanted to see him like that ever again. He vowed to himself that Link would feel safe around him, and that he’d never hurt him in anyway, whether it be unwilling or willing.

[transingthoseformers]

When you veer so fast from giggling to ANGST MODE like you're sliding on angst

I'm thinking about the earthspark Megatron & Twitch scene again and Megatron crying

[mycapofmisfortune]

To be perfectly honest, Noah never thought that befriending an alien robot would have him explaining how human love songs worked on a random morning but well, there he was. He wasn’t really complaining.

[ultra-phthalo]

Polar Scientist Having a Bad Day in G1

lol got reminded of a short interaction I've written but haven't posted where a scientist got caught up in Jetfire's first g1 episode. The scientist knows about Megatron and starts begging Jetfire to not take them any where near Megatron. "NOO I'M JUST A LITTLE BALL OF DNA AND JELLY DON'T TAKE ME TO MEGATRON AAAA" Jetfire: *Omg it's so sad to see it panic but its so interesting I'm taking it to my leader* Human: *More desperate scientific inconsolable babbling and yelling* Bonus: Starscream: “My bot - I have killed at least one of these things why are you showing this emotional mess to me?” Jetfire: “You what??”

[sphnyspinspin]

Here’s a Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Fluff thought for RiD2015.

The Stunticons are officially in jail or prison. They’ve finally given up and are living out their sentence. Until one day a certain surgeon was looking for a new assistant, and he just so happen to suggest using this opportunity to help redeem one of the Stunticons.

One particular Con stood out from the rest as he was particularly young. And he had an orange steel face, bright yellow eyes, and his armor very dark shade of blue. The surgeon asked the Con what his name was, and he answered “ Wildbreak”.

—-

Fast forward a bit, we’re in a doctor’s office stationed on Earth. Just five weeks after Knockout appointed the former Stunticon Wildbreak as his new lab assistant.

Not to mention how surprised Bumblebee’s team was when they first encountered Wildbreak randomly cleaning one of the main offices. They nearly tackled him. But Knockout stepped in just in time.

—-

Now all I can imagine is just Bumblebee questioning why Knockout would choose someone who looked an awful like an old friend of his.

Bumblebee: So… Wildbreak is your new assistant. Want to… talk about that?

Knockout: What are you implying?

Bumblebee: I don’t know. The face? The eyes? The name…

Knockout: …

Bumblebee: Did he maybe…you know.

Knockout: …

Bumblebee: Remind you of someone? Someone you might still be thinking about?

Knockout: First of all, I don’t like where this conversation is going. And second of all, that’s absolutely none of your business. And third of all, I have already gotten over Breakdown centuries ago.

Bumblebee: Oh, uh okay-

Knockout: Yeah, they might be similar appearance wise and name wise, and they both have sparks of gold, and they both appreciate my intuitive wisdom of a proper frame-care routine, and the scoundrel maybe or maybe not have caught me off guard when he looked at me through his enclosure at the prison making me think ALL ABOUT the one bot who deserved to become an Autobot more than anybody on that DAMN SHIP- who deserved to become an Autobot more than me, and who absolutely didn’t deserve to be MUTILATED AND-

Bumblebee: …

Knockout: *sigh* You caught me. Congratulations.

—-

Also an extra headcannon is that Wildbreak sometimes partners up with the Bee Team, and everytime he comes back Knockout immediately grabs his face and inspects it. Especially checking his optic sockets and asks a million different questions like a mother who witnessed her six-year-old if he got hurt on the monkey bars.

[bri-does-art]

I have been asked to post this meme here, for y’all’s enjoyment, so here you are ;D

[sinnabee]

Prompt: Character A tilting Character B’s chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by B’s mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, B’s heart skips a nervous beat as A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.

“Who did this to you?”

Ship: Megawave

‘Verse: Transformers Prime (vaguely lol)

—-

It wasn’t often that Soundwave returned from a match injured, or marked.

In fact, in living history - it had only happened once.

Once out of hundreds of matches was a track record worth remembering. Worth being proud of. Worth fearing.

So, it stood to reason, that in the time since their orns in the pits, Megatron had grown accustomed to a certain level of consistency in regards to his third in command. Soundwave went into the field. Soundwave returned to base unharmed.

Soundwave performed some of the most high-risk missions that the Decepticons had to offer. And yet, inexplicably, he had always come back in perfect condition, and often times with more success than some other members of the Decepticon ranks that came to mind.

It was one of the things Megatron could always rely on, in the oft uncertain vorns of endless war. It was a steadying, subtle kind of comfort. Much like Soundwave himself. There was no need for meaningless chatter or blatant attempts to impress or appease him. Soundwave always knew Megatron’s mind - as well as how to ease it.

The problem with growing complacent, Megatron would soon be reminded, for that was what he had become -

Was that it made you soft, and weak, and -

No.

For Megatron, it just made him angry.

—-

“Report.”

Megatron’s voice could barely be considered words. In honesty, it was really more of a growl.

The Vehicon in front of him did their very best to keep their paneling from rattling where they stood.

“No sign, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron slammed a clenched fist onto the arm of his throne.

”Then KEEP SEARCHING!”

Megatron leaned back into his chair with the same dangerous kind of slow, controlled movement of a predator stalking prey. The Vehicon was already gone, having fled the moment the order left his Lord’s mouth.

He would be complacent no longer.

—-

Knockout, while a good actor, couldn’t hide the flutter of nervousness that wove it’s way through his EM field. But, surely - Megatron was far too…preoccupied to notice.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Surely, Lord Megatron, these - operations have become an - an unnecessary strain on our resources?”

We hardly have enough energy to keep the Vehicons functioning as it is, and-“

“Are you saying that our efforts have been a waste of time, Knockout?

Megatron’s optics narrowed dangerously, and the red medic began backtracking immediately. His expression and EM field held more promise than threat.

“N-No! Of course not, Lord Megatron! Why, I would never throw dispersions on one of such excellent judgement as yourself!”

Megatron stood up, slowly, and approached Knockout with a serene calmness that only served to make every mech on the bridge tense.

For every step Knockout took back, the Warlord took two forward. Either Knockout would run out of floor or Megatron would run out of patience. Whichever came first.

“If I have to tear up every last inch,” Megatron growled, still stalking forwards with that same, uncanny calm, “of this worthless, mudball planet, Knockout, then I will.”

Knockout nodded frantically, fear bright in his optics.

“Of course! Lord, Megatron, of course! We will continue the search until he is found! As you command, my liege!”

He swept into an awkward, rushed bow, and at no further comment from Megatron but a harsh exvent, quickly fled the room.

Megatron returned to his throne.

He felt tired.

—-

It had already been a vorn.

—-

In the end, things did not turn out the way Megatron had ever imagined.

Despite searching tirelessly, accusing and interrogating Autobots and humans alike at every turn, Megatron never found his missing third in command.

Rather, Soundwave found him.

Megatron, leaking and coated in layers of his own energon, with a damaged optic and an ill-functioning leg, knelt on the same dirt he had sworn to upturn in search of his… friend.

Even now, his spark tapped out an accusatory beat in response to the thought. The pain he felt was more than that of merely a lost friend.

His breathing was ragged as his frame attempted to cool overworked systems, and his auto-repair attempted to provide what aid they could.

He almost wanted to laugh, again, at how the Prime had ever so thoughtfully honored his request.

At least he was alone.

He knew he was alone, and that the slow, familiar trod of footsteps heading towards him was nothing more than the last delusion of his mind, the last feeble hope that, once shattered, would finally bring him to his knees. He was halfway there already.

Megatron admitted to himself that it was a cowards refuge, when he could not make himself lift his helm to look.

He didn’t fully process it when the slow, familiar steps that haunted his every waking moment, made more obvious by their lack at his side, suddenly picked up in speed.

He was crazy, then. Soundwave didn’t run.

This time, Megatron did bark out a laugh, destabilizing the delicate balance of his servo on one knee in the process. He nearly tipped himself over, except -

except -

someone caught him.

He found himself incapable of dragging his optics away from the familiar, delicate servos now gripping his chassis. It was impossible, after all. One final, cruel trick of the mind before it sent him hurtling off into oblivion.

But then there was the feeling of something near-forgotten - gentle digits that carefully brushed away the energon bleeding from his lip. The servo lifted his chin in time with the light swish of a visor being retracted.

And there he was. Standing before him, unharmed, untouched - pristine and as whole as the day he vanished.

“Soundwave.”

The sound of Megatron’s vocalizer was harsh, and his words laced with static. The damage wasn’t enough to disguise the thick layers of emotions piled into his third’s name.

Soundwave’s optics never strayed from his. There was an anger there that Megatron wasn’t used to seeing. His spark seemed to ache in his chassis, and his EM field responded in kind.

It’s the greatest relief when Soundwave’s is finally there to answer the wordless request, and entwine itself with his.

“Inquiry: Who did this to you?”

Megatron couldn’t manage to hold back a strangled laugh.

He reached up with one servo and gently traced the side of Soundwave’s face, some part of him still not quite convinced he wasn't seeing a dream.

“I’m afraid I’ve done it to myself, my friend. In search of you.”

Soundwave’s optics softened. From his perspective, he had only been in the shadow dimension for one Earth month. It quickly became clear to him that the same was not true for Megatron.

“You were right, Soundwave, as always. I’ve lost my way without you. I-“

Soundwave didn’t bother to let him finish. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed Megatron into a kiss. One that was gentle, and breathless, and felt like coming home.

When Soundwave pulled away, Megatron realized that perhaps, that was exactly what it was.

Soundwave smiled at him.

“No more searching. I’m home.”

[slightly-smarter-nat]

Hi!! could i request robin buckley x reader, where reader has bumblebee? I don’t really have a plot , maybe reader just got him and robin accidentally finds out so reader introduces bumblebee to robin

It’s kinda bad but i had a dream about it , i thought maybe could be a good plot for a blurb

Bumblebee || Robin Buckley

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 2177 words.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request anon, I really appreciate it. Especially the fact that I actually adore Bumblebee lol. Also, I just want to say that I am working through the requests in my inbox- slowly but surely so please don’t feel like I’m ignoring your request, I promise I’m not. I will try to keep my Masterlist as updated as possible with WIP slots. I hope you all enjoy. The fic is based around 1986. Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

GIF not mine

Bumblebee: Robin Buckley-

“Okay baby, I need to leave for band practice.” Robin says in between kisses as the two of you stand on your driveway- to see her off.

You release a dramatic sigh as you move to wrap your arms around her neck instead and display a pout, “I know, I’ll just miss you so much whilst you’re gone.” You let out in a downhearted tone.

Robin laughs at your pout and moves to kiss it away, “I know y/n/n, but it’s a shorter practice today. Well, that is if Larry decides not to be a total dingus and actually stay awake long enough to do his solo.” You smile at her teasing words, “I’ll be back soon and we can hang out for as long as you want, okay?”

You squint your eyes as you pretend to consider your options. Robin smirks at your antics, knowing you’re just trying to prolong her leave, “Hmm, I guess that sounds reasonable.” You finally let out playfully.

Robin shakes her head, “You can be really cute sometimes, you know that?”

You raise an eyebrow at Robin’s words, alongside a smirk, “Only sometimes?”

Robin chuckles before planting one last kiss on your lips, “Fine, all the time. Now I gotta go. I love you and I’ll see you later.��

As Robin moves to leave, you keep a loose grip on her hand as her arm continues to stretch out due to her movements away from you, “I love you too, have fun.”

Once Robin reluctantly lets go of your hand, she decides to enter a mini jog as she moves away from your house, “Don’t I always? That band would be totally mind-numbing without me, I’m clearly the saviour of the group.” She shouts back as she picks up her pace.

You shake your head with a smile as you watch your girlfriend go, “Yeah, yeah I’ll believe when I see it. Now move your ass Buckley!”

Robin turns to roll her eyes at your words, deciding to halt her actions to enable her to bring both of her hands up to her lips; sending you a long distance kiss.

You blush at her sweet gesture and watch longingly as she resumes her hurried endeavour down the street.

However your thought process is interrupted when you hear a peculiar clinking sound from inside your garage. You slowly turn around towards the noise, attempting to pinpoint what could be causing its origin before you have to open up the doors.

The sound picks up in frequency, causing you to move closer to the garage door, steadily.

As you reach down to grab the aged, rusted garage door handle, you listen carefully as the sound continue to grow stronger in volume.

As you pull up and slide the ivory painted door away, the sound ceases and allows you to study the inside of your garage carefully- hoping to determine what’s happening from within.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary, everything is in its place- ranging from disused bikes to derelict paint cans. Meaning there’s nothing to indicate what’s causing the disturbance.

That is until you notice a slight movement from your car, the subtle noises of the bonnet opening and closing to make an audible sound catches your attention instantly; once it has recommenced.

“Oh Bumblebee, what are you up to?” You ask your car, knowing he has the tendency to act up when you have company over, resulting in him taking cover in the enclosed space of your family garage.

As you move closer to Bumblebee, he decides to communicate to you through his radio, which you have come to the understanding that he lost the ability to verbally communicate like the rest of his kind-relying heavily on several broadcasting channels.

As the radio channel struggles to focus, Bumblebee finally manages to tune in his desired input, ‘D-don’t you forget about me-‘ Bumblebee uses the iconic line from the featured song of ‘The Breakfast Club’- one of Robin’s favourites.

You release a dejected sigh as you move to rub a soothing hand over Bumblebee’s metallic finish; feeling guilty about making him stay concealed, “I’m sorry buddy. You know I could never forget about you. You only have to stay in here when Robin is around because she doesn’t know about you yet.”

Bumblebee remains silent, permitting your next series of words, “Come on then, you can come out now, I’ll let you move around the backyard for a bit.”

Bumblebee releases his own unique version of a content chirp as you move aside to let him out. Taking into consideration that your parents won’t be home for several hours, it gives you an opportune moment to give Bumblebee an essence of freedom.

That’s one of the many luxuries about living in a rather secluded area of Hawkins. Of course you have neighbours staggered around, however the vacant woodland area at the back of your house is a perfect expanse for Bumblebee to transform himself into his natural and towering form- opposed to your treasured, yellow car.

As you step outside the garage, you ensure everything is out of Bumblebee’s path to allow him to follow you around the edge of the house.

Bumblebee knows the routine, stay close by; drive slow and wait for your signal.

After an assortment of steps across the open yard, you intently search the grounds for any form of an unwanted presence, in order to protect Bumblebee from exposure.

The only presence you can detect is from the low hum of Bumblebee’s engine- giving you the all clear.

Once you conclude that it’s safe for Bumblebee to transform, you give him the agreed command, “Bee, roll out.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your car contorts itself in various ways to produce a completely new structure.

The rustic yellow conforms into various shades of silver, revealing the underlying materials used to produce Bumblebee’s toughened appearance.

After multiple clicks and motions; what was once your car is now a rather humanised figure, encased in a sizeable, metallic shield.

Bumblebee jumps around in excitement as he squints his eyes open and closed, eager to go on an adventure with you.

His makeshift antennas flick around, generating a smile across your features at the iconic details that give Bumblebee his name.

Allowing his exhilaration to pass, he finally draws his undivided attention to you, producing his hand towards you as he scrambles through multiple radio channels to communicate with you, “T-thank you, f-for your service.”

Varied voices put across his gratitude, though the warmth filling you is from knowing that deep down it’s all Bumblebee.

You give him a fist bump of appreciation, to which he mastered on the day your Father brought him home for you.

“No problem bud-“ Suddenly, Bumblebee tilts his head in concentration, zoning out on an object behind you.

You pause your statement towards him to study his mannerisms, knowing the telltale signs of his defensive mechanism.

Several features shift on his structure, allowing him to appear bigger and fearsome; as his face is masked in a defensive, battle worthy shield, “Woah, hey, easy Bee, what’s going on?”

He releases an agitated din, subtly warning you to seek protection from him.

You choose to turn your gaze behind you to understand what could be causing Bumblebee to become so upset all of a sudden.

That’s when you spot your stupefied girlfriend.

Your eyes widen in horror, “Robin!? What are you doing here?!” You question her rapidly, mortified at the situation.

Robin continues to stare at Bumblebee in astonishment, allowing her mouth to hang open slightly as she scrambles her mind for any form of idea to understand what is going on.

At the mention of Robin’s name, Bumblebee releases a surprised clamour, before shifting into his desired car form. Snapping the bonnet down for good measure.

You wince at the abrupt sound, internally sighing at Bumblebee’s actions, “Bee, I think it’s too late for that now. She’s already seen you.”

Robin ignores how you address the car- as though it’s a living creature; continuing to slowly blink her way through her chaotic thought processes.

You decide to move forward to grasp Robin’s attention, and snap her out of her frozen-like trance, “Robin, I can explain, but you have to listen to everything I say-“

Robin shakes her head in order to move herself out of her own mindset, “Holy shit, that was a robot, but now it’s a car?” She releases in an amazed tone.

You move your head side to side to rally through the minor details, “Technically he’s an autobot, anyway Robin it’s not what it looks like, he’s my car, yes. That’s all, there’s no need to panic because he’s very-“

Robin doesn’t hesitate to string a series of puzzling thoughts together, “Wait, so this is why Steve has to drive us everywhere, because you have some sort of supercar?” Robin attempts to quickly shift through each one of her questions in anticipation of an answer, though at this current moment in time, you cannot provide an answer to any of her questions.

You stand there dumbfounded at Robin’s lack of reaction towards the situation; having expected her to run the other way upon seeing Bumblebee, “Robin, why are you so calm? I expected a scream of horror or something at least, not a question time special.”

Robin directs her curious gaze to you, “Why would I be freaked out? I literally saw a huge spider monster try to devour Hawkins last year, this is nothing compared to that monstrosity.”

You sigh in relief, “Okay, fair point. What made you come back?”

“Oh, I forgot some of my sheet music for practice in your room, so I came back to collect it but when I heard some noises from way over here, I had to come and check it out.” Robin returns her gaze to Bumblebee, completely in awe of him.

You can’t help but smile at how entranced she is by Bumblebee, “You know, you can go up to him.”

Robin doesn’t hesitate to walk over to your car, reaching out a shaky hand in an attempt to admire his details thoroughly.

Once her fingertips graze his yellow and black paintwork, he uses his strength to transform himself back to his towering state; causing Robin to stumble back into you.

You laugh as she reaches blindly for you, attempting to use you as a human shield.

Once Bumblebee has fully transformed, he offers his hand out to Robin, as he would you. She looks at you in question, “Give him a fist bump, he’s saying hi.”

Robin takes your words in and fulfills the fist bump steadily.

Once the contact is made she brings back her hand to cradle, beaming at the new experience.

This is the complete opposite of how you expected this situation to play out, “If I’d have known this is how you would react, I would have introduced you months ago.”

Robin grabs your hand as she speaks to you, “Yeah, you’re a total dingus for that. Y/n, your car is bitchin’.”

“He’s awesome, there’s a lot to know about him; maybe after practice I can-“ Robin dismisses your sentence completely.

“No way, not happening, I’m skipping practice. This is way more worth my time. Can we take him for a spin? Does he drive around like other cars? Does he talk? Does he understand me?” You bite your lip as you listen to Robin’s words.

“You want me to stop don’t you?” She nervously lets out.

You immediately comfort her, “Not at all, you can ask all the questions you’d like. Why don’t we take a drive with him, he’s been dying to go out on the road for days.”

At the mention of a drive Bumblebee scrambles his radio channels, “A-affirmative, c-clear for takeoff.”

Robin raises her eyebrow at his display, “How does he know how to do that?”

You shrug as you move to bring Robin into a hug, “Thank you for being so understanding about all of this, I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I just didn’t know how you’d react.”

Robin pulls you out of the hug to cup your face with her hands, “You know you can tell me anything. I might have a complete freakout and not know what to say, or even say too much but you can come to me about anything, especially if it totally awesome like this, deal?”

You nod to confirm Robin’s words, “Deal.”

Bumblebee uses his skill set to input his own views on the situation, “W-walk this way, A-Ah just give me a kiss.”

You blush in embarrassment at Bumblebee’s behaviour, knowing he’s trying to encourage you on. Luckily Robin finds his antics amusing and gives you a delicate kiss on the lips, “Now come on, I believe you owe me a ride.”

As Robin drags you towards Bumblebee, he quickly collapses into his car form, ready to take you and Robin on an adventure.

You can’t even remember what you were so worried about at this point, having Robin know your secret sends tons of relief throughout your system. The accident of her knowing about Bumblebee came to be one of the best memories of your life; and thanks to Bumblebee and his eagerness to take you and Robin to the most magnificent destinations in Hawkins, gave you plenty of more opportunities to make more treasured memories with your love.

You wouldn’t trade Robin or Bumblebee for the world.

[blue-inferno]

Here is a little segment on an angsty/comfort based short fic Im currently writing titled 'Broken' featuring Bulkhead and Wheeljack.

Happy Wheeljack Wednesday!

[nadare-writer]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: One Piece Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji Characters: Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cats, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chef Vinsmoke Sanji, Slice of Life, Cat Zoro, Fandom-Blind Friendly, Car Accidents, Transformation, Bonding, Food Porn, Talking Animals, Bakeneko, Two Shot Summary: When a new human moves into his territory, Zoro discovers the joys of having his own personal chef.

[chopper-witch]

Hey if anyone ever wants to make another part of something I write or continue something I abandon or create a fic based on/using mine as the background/template/whatever, please do. Art is meant to be shared and fan fiction as an art form is especially community based and expansive.

[dragonsorceress22]

Fandom: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed

Rating: T

Tags: kaishin, One Shot, Post-Conan Kudou Shinichi, Get-Together Fic, Fluff, cat!KID, Animal Transformation, little bit of nudity, Akako providing for my plot needs yet again, Gift Fic, fic for charity

“I'd love a kaishin animal transformation fic where someone either gets turned into a cat or is able to transform into a cat at will and then something-something romance happens!” You got it, my friend : )

[transingthoseformers]

I saw one fic. One Fic, that had Optimus with mild allergies to some antivirals and naturally this stuck with me bc mood.

This will lead to Ratchet having a harder time hunting him down when it comes time to refresh his antivirals. It will be hilarious.

[inazumaneko]

Hey tfa fandom, any recommendations for prowl-centric fics??? I can never seem to find any, he’s always a side character, or barely in it. I just wanna read about him so bad 😂🥲