#transformers macadam

[carrion-carry-on]

Light Seeks Out Life

Okay, this is a Transformers IDW/MTMTE comic and Transformers: Earthspark (light) crossover. Purely self-indulgent. I've been working on this thing off and on after work to try and unwind. Because I love the oddball Earth-forged Terrans and I love semi-eldritch/doting elder Rung and I want them to meet.

This may have other parts, depending on how I'm feeling.

Can also be found on AO3 (hopefully this link thing works)- Light Seeks Out Life

It began with a feeling.

Feelings are normal. Twitch came into the world knowing feelings. She is connected inseparably through feelings. She shares love, and sorrow, and joy, and fear with her siblings - human and Terran alike. In the months making up her life so far, she has felt so much.

She has been with herself long enough to identify when an emotion is coming from her, or from her siblings. But this isn't from any of them. The whole morning - even during lesson time when Bumblebee is talking about something training related and probably super important - she's distracted by the Feeling. She can't sit still, worse than usual.

It's a mix of excitement and something else, something not-quite sad. Just as she's leaning in to her brother, about to ask if he's feeling something, too, Bumblebee is looking at her. He's got a disappointed face and though it's not nearly as bad as Mom's, it's still pretty bad. Twitch tries to shrink into her plating.

Bumblebee sighs with his vents, and he shakes his head (helm?) a little. "Is something wrong Twitch?"

Is there something wrong?

She thinks about telling him, but decides not to. Despite their efforts, neither she nor Thrash could ever really explain their Thing in a way that Bee understood. She shakes her head, apologizes like she's been taught, and really tries to settle in.

Though not long after, Twitch starts… well, twitching. She fidgets with her plating. She pesters at Thrash's plating. That feeling is getting closer, and stronger, and she feels like she has so much energy she just can't possibly keep herself all the way still. The excitement part of the foreign emotion is really picking at her self-control.

The lesson winds up turning into 'reconnaissance' shortly after Thrash decides he's had enough and tackles her to the ground. Bumblebee scolds her a good bit, apparently decides he's not getting anywhere, and releases them both to get out some of their pent-up energy.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Twitch calls. "I promise to be back home before dark!"

Then she's off like a shot, charging into the forest without so much as challenging Thrash to a race. But then, she didn't need to. Thrash understands, and before long he's catching up, running through the woods at her side.

Together they clear fallen trees, duck through bushes, laughing and whooping all the while. They're running free with no real goal in mind. Twitch takes to the air easily. Thrash yells about cheating, even though there's been no game decided. It's all in good fun.

She doesn't think about the Feeling.

The barn is as much their 'home' as the house is.

Neither Twitch nor Thrash sleep. They don't feel the need, so they don't. She likes to think that Robby and Mo sleep enough for them both. It can get kind of… boring, though. Sometimes Twitch can get Robby to sneak out with her for some late-night exploration. Other times they can plead with Dad or Mom and they'll tell a story. Still, Thrash occasionally joins Twitch in wandering out to the fields to watch Fluffy Ears and her friends sleep (always worth it). But often it's just Twitch and Thrash in the barn. All night long.

Those nights can be the worst.

They've both learned that their place is in the barn at night, just like how Robby and Mo are supposed to stay in the house. They've also learned that making loud noises is very much unwelcome. Often they try to pass the time by reading books (comics especially), or playing board games. But those activities can only keep them occupied for so long. Twitch and her brother have had more than one do-nothing-night.

It usually starts out with rejected suggestions of games and books (sometimes Twitch offers and Thrash objects, sometimes Twitch is objecting). Then they devolve into 20 questions, what-if, or would-you-rather. They might even play pretend. And sometimes that's enough to get them through till morning.

But not tonight.

Tonight is worse than all of the do-nothing-nights that've ever come before. Twitch's lines are humming with energy. Her rotors are spinning up, then spinning down over and over again; she's touched the roof 42 times over the course of the night so far. What's worse is she can't do anything with the energy.

They could probably sneak out again. Feeling like this, though, she doesn't know if either can manage it quietly enough to avoid being caught. Because it's not just Twitch feeling antsy.

Thrash is similarly struggling. He's sitting on a crate, drumming out rhythms with his fingers (Bee called them digits at one point). She thinks he might have been trying to work out a song. It's been a nightly attempt for Thrash ever since Bumblebee introduced him to an Autobot called Jazz. And Jazz had subsequently introduced him to sheet music.

“Improv’s always best. But writing down your piece helps others hear it even without ya. ‘Sides, ‘s a great way to start learning music theory.”

But the poster-board-for-paper remains blank. The energy is getting to him, it's getting worse, because even as Twitch watches Thrash's left leg begins to bounce.

"You feel it too?" Twitch asks. It's a metaphorical question. Or is it 'rhetorical'?

Thrash doesn't have to answer - he knows, and she knows.

"What do you think it is?" he asks instead. "It's not me, and it's not you, and Robby and Mo are sleeping,"

"I dunno…" Twitch says helplessly.

It's not a bad feeling. There's lots of anticipation and joy - that's the part giving her and her brother a hard time sitting still. But there's still that wistful, not-quite-sad part. And it's not as if the Feeling is getting stronger, or going away. It's just there, barely present in the backdrop of her mind, on the edge of her thoughts. It's like something that's been forgotten, waiting patiently to become her focus. It's something lost that waits to be found again.

She and Thrash go through the incredibly, comparatively small (and well-used) book on emotions Dad had gifted them. They even go so far as to do something he called 'cross referencing,' looking at synonyms and their definitions in the (not-as-used) thesaurus & dictionary. The Feeling eludes them both.

It's late afternoon. Twitch and Thrash, along with Robby and Mo, are done with training and school, respectively. Both of Twitch's human siblings are relieved to be home. She of course can tell Robby's had a rough time with school recently. She asked him what was wrong yesterday and he replied something about social studies that she tangentially understood. Bumblebee has recently been trying to teach them something about Cybertron's history leading up to the war. Dad's been ecstatic - she and Thrash much, much less so.

But there's something about the coming-home feeling that catches Twitch's attention. She's always felt something similar, whether returning from a lesson in the fields close to home or one of the rare explorations through the woods. Coming home feels the same. There's the not-quite-sadness; running, playing, making friends, even learning is great (sometimes) and it never feels like she has enough time for any of those things. But she has always felt excited to reach home. She loves her family, how could she feel anything different? It's what Robby and Mo are feeling right now. And it's also remarkably similar to the Feeling.

"Like coming home," Twitch whispers out loud.

And the Feeling changes - no, transforms - as the excitement and anxiety become less overwhelming and are replaced by joy and anticipation. There's a deep part of her, maybe inside her chest (that spark Bumblebee's always referring to?) that feels at peace. It's a lost piece that has finally slotted into place, finally recognized and put back where it belongs.

Twitch's relief at finally having a name to put to that foreign Feeling is so sudden that both her human siblings turn to find her gaze. Dad, too, glances up while stepping out of the van.

Mo offers comfort through their bond, and says, "Aw, school's not that bad, Twitch. And we've already been gone and back, like, a million times."

Neither of them can feel it. Or, they can, and they think it's just their feeling, and not Something Else? Twitch shares what she hopes is a subtle questioning look with Thrash. He only shrugs, just as lost as she.

It's just after a rainstorm when Twitch manages to goad Thrash into an informal race. They've been given regular break times during Bumblebee's lessons (Dad's suggestion) in order to use up some energy. Thus far, today's lesson has mirrored the grey storm clouds: boring, dull, apparently lifeless. She doesn't really understand why learning about Cybertron's religious conflicts are important. Bumblebee even admitted to barely knowing the basics. But they'd been going over some more history on Cybertron's 'just before the war' stuff, and apparently religion was another thing some Decepticons and Autobots fought for. Or fought about?

It did bring to mind something Mom had explained three weeks before. That was back when Thrash groaned and asked why they needed to learn some of the politics and stuff a lot of Cybertronians had cared about. (Coincidentally, something Twitch had also been wondering, but never asked.) Mom had been the one to answer. She said people have a lot of reasons for fighting a war - resources, politics, religion and ideals being big ones.

She said learning what's important to different folks can help you work out what's important to you. And teach ways to negotiate between everyone's 'important things' without it turning into a war.

Regardless, out here, Twitch doesn't have to worry about religion or conflict, or the former's role within the latter. She's free to move, to jump, and run, and fly. They move together, along some unknown path, directly towards the cave (with its strange and special water). She doesn't need to 'refuel' as Bumblebee puts it. And she doesn't think Thrash does, either. Twitch doesn't think about it too hard. This just feels like the right way to go today.

They're part way to that unspoken finish line when suddenly the Feeling is back to the forefront of her mind. That mildly concerning development is followed by her internal systems picking up a new signature. That's never happened before.

Twitch stops abruptly, hovering in place. Thrash comes to a scraping halt below her.

Twitch doesn't know how to describe it. They still haven't gotten past the vague understanding of 'it just feels similar to coming home after a day out.' So she just asks, "You feel that?" The 'again' goes without saying.

The Feeling transforms once more. It's now present and pressing.

"The Big Thing somewhere up on the hill? Yeah." Thrash says.

Twitch is nodding absently. That's a good way of putting it. She's not sure how she knows, or why, but this signature is marking something big. She's slowly lowering to the ground until finally coming to land beside her brother. Her descent is so gentle, the bushes and their residual raindrops barely make a sound.

"Do you think we should go back? Try and find Bumblebee? Or Mom?" Thrash asks, obviously thinking back on their bad luck with strangers.

Twitch hums, considering, then says, "It doesn't feel dangerous or anything." And they're a lot better prepared than they had been with Swindle. Or… Mandroid.

Mandroid hadn't seemed all bad, either. But this is different. Somehow, she doesn't feel right trying to compare this Big Thing to Mandroid. That guy's crazy, mean… scary. She feels it confidently, in her spark, that they're both safe to wait and see - and feel. Because the Feeling is there, she feels it from the tips of her toes/pedes to the top of her head/helm. It's still comforting and hopeful and everything she loves about home.

That's why it's no small surprise when the mech that comes into view at the top of the bluff above just seems… strange. Their plating is orange and cream in color. The arms and legs are thin, so unlike all the other Cybertronians she's met. And they don't have wheels, or rotors, nothing to hint at what their alt-mode might be.

Slowly, the stranger begins their descent. Some rocks give way beneath the sudden weight, loosed by the storm and helped along by mud and leaf litter. Yet they navigate each potential fall with an otherworldly grace, always with one foot up to take the next step down.

"Ah, here we are," says the mech as their feet touch solid ground.

Twitch doesn't gawk (because Robby says staring is rude and she trusts her big bro), but it's a close thing. At her side, she can tell Thrash is having much the same reaction. The Feeling is still there, but it's more muted, somehow.

The stranger still faces both Twitch and Thrash, regarding them with a small, kind smile. She notices they've got glasses on - or are they goggles? They're very similar in color to the piece of blue-green 'sea glass' Mo keeps in her treasure box. What would a mech need glasses for? Bumblebee never went into much detail about the eyes ('optics,' apparently) during their brief anatomy lessons.

Their expression remains warm and welcoming. As something gently wipes across Twitch's sensors (another relatively foreign concept), Thrash goes ramrod straight. Twitch can't parse what it is she's supposed to do with the information that has just suddenly appeared in her mind. From the mirrored confusion she feels from Thrash, he's just as stumped.

"Um… Hi?" Is all she can manage.

The mech frowns a little. Then they jump, like Dad did when he'd realized he was nearly late for his 'class reunion.' "Oh, that's right, they don't use pings anymore, do they?"

Twitch doesn't know what a ping is, so she figures it's a rhetorical question (and it is 'rhetorical,' and not 'metaphorical,' she looked it up). She watches quietly as the mech begins to pat around their frame, obviously searching for something. One compartment after another pops open. Like a magician, the stranger pulls out an array of normally ill-fitting items; there's a string of crystals, a half-bolt of fabric, a stack of wooden cards…

"I wonder where I could have put them. I'd have sworn they were in one of the left-" the mech checks more pop-out drawers from their left arm.

Part of Twitch wants to see what else they can pull out, but she knows that probably wouldn't be polite. Just before she's made up her mind to try and introduce herself with a proper handshake, the mech straightens up again.

With a flourish and triumphant "Aha!", they now have a light green and yellow patterned box. "Here it is," they say, walking and fiddling with the box as they approach.

Twitch doesn't move when the stranger finally comes within touching distance. And neither does Thrash, though she can tell the urge to move is harder for him to fight down. Curiosity is a powerful motivation, though.

"These are rust-sticks. Not quite the traditional greeting, but close enough!" The mech shakes their tin in hand, and a few pink, softly glowing sticks pop out the cracked end. Then the box is gone - vanished away into some other compartment, Twitch is sure.

"You may call me Rung!"

The mystery mech, Rung, evidently, glances from Twitch to her brother and back again.

"Uh- I'm Twitch."

"And I'm Thrash."

A smile bigger than before lights up Rung's features and they nod enthusiastically. "It's very nice to meet the two of you!" At the same time, they slip three rust-sticks out between their fingers (digits - things - words) and gestures for each to take. "It's food, don't worry."

Twitch accepts one of the sticks with a quiet 'thank you' and turns it over in her hand. They've been told again and again not to accept things from strangers. She then notes that Rung has taken the end of one of the sticks in between their teeth. If they're eating it, then surely it can't be that bad.

"Your systems should be able to handle a small bit of energon at least, you're part Cybertronian as much as part Earth! Also," Rung leans towards Twitch and Thrash, and puts one hand to their mouth to whisper, "I promise you'll like them. I've never known a new-forge who could resist something sweet!"

Both Robby and Mo swear up and down by sweets; dessert time is a favorite with her human siblings. So Twitch takes the dive, popping one end into her mouth, and… It's the best thing she's ever tasted. It's all the way up there - even past the antifreeze Mom has never and will never find out about.

"This. Is. Amazing!" Twitch squeals before promptly gnashing down the rest of the stick.

"I wanna try!" Thrash yelps.

Rung chuckles as they hand over the last remaining rust-stick to Twitch's eager brother. That one is quick to disappear, too. After finishing, Thrash confirms Twitch's opinion: definitely the best they've ever had.

"I'm glad you both approve," Rung says, still smiling. "I hope that helps me make a good impression. I've travelled quite a ways to meet both of you properly."

"Wait, us?" Thrash asks, head tilting.

"You know about us?" Twitch asks at nearly the same time.

"It's been a long time since anyone has tried to make something new. Though I'm not the least bit surprised it was Quintus to do it."

That got a bigger reaction. Twitch gasps a bit, her eyes widening. Thrash beats her to the question.

"You know about Quintus Prime?"

Rung folds both arms neatly behind their back. "But of course! I know just about all there is to know about the Primes!"

Twitch feels elation surge through her mind, echoed and redoubled by her brother. She takes to hovering off the ground once again, flitting back and around their new friend excitedly. Rung is a good bit taller than either of them, but definitely still shorter than Bumblebee. She fires off questions, circling ever faster, still searching for any kind of alt-mode give-aways. The excitement she feels now isn't too unlike the Feeling they'd experienced before - for weeks, leading up to meeting Rung.

"Did you come here from Cybertron? Are you by yourself? Are you an Autobot?"

Not far below, Thrash is also energetic, rocking on his feet, swinging his arms, and asking questions of his own. "What can you tell us about Quintus? Do you know why he wanted to create us?"

Rung glances between them both, expression gentle and fond. It reminds Twitch somewhat of Dad and Mom.

Rung reveals they did in fact come to Earth all the way from Cybertron, and that they are completely alone. Rung confirms they're an Autobot (pulling out a ridiculously fitted badge that could in no way be comfortably displayed anywhere on their body/chassis). After listening to Twitch and Thrash's somewhat faltering explanation, Rung states that the pronouns that best suit them are likely he/him. He had commented something Twitch didn't quite understand, something about Earth's organic culture?

When pressed further about Quintus Prime, Rung gives them both a strange sad/happy not-quite-smile and says, "Quintus always was a Dreamer. He saw value in life - all life. He also saw value in allowing his creations a sense of self-determination; the ability to make your own choices. Like all sentient beings, you have the power and responsibility to decide for yourselves who you will be, and what you are for. No one else can say. That's the beauty of it."

Rung squints behind his glasses, and his expression becomes much less certain. "Of course, some of Quintus' creations are not so… congenial as yourselves. But it is ultimately the creations' choice which makes them so. You will always have a choice to behave as you feel proper. That is the true gift."

Rung takes a few steps past Twitch and Thrash, towards the woods in the direction they'd come running from. "Of course, you will have the benefit of loving guidance from your peers, human and Cybertronian alike. Not all will be so lucky as the fi- two of you."

Twitch feels her brows draw together. She feels confusion, and pressure. She knows Thrash is experiencing something similar. What if she makes the wrong choice? She glances up at their new friend. He's taken to polishing his glasses using a rag pulled from who-knows-where. She doesn't want to disappoint this mech. Almost as much as not wanting to disappoint Dad, or Mom, or Bee, or Megatron, or-

"It's no test, Twitch. There is really no 'right' or 'wrong,' only different paths made by different choices. And everyone, always, has the ability to make a different choice. Everyone can change." He's glancing back at Twitch, and his smile is back, too; small but so, so bright.

"How'd you do that?" Thrash asks abruptly.

Both Twitch and Rung make a questioning noise.

"How'd you know what Twitch was feeling? What I was feeling?"

Rung's eyebrows rise a bit in what Twitch thinks might be surprise. It's odd how much of a difference his glasses make. He's silent for a bit, before dipping his head and a puff of laughter escapes.

"One explanation is: when you've lived for as long as I have," he chuckles, "you learn to read others with decent accuracy. It's a good help."

"But what-" Thrash starts.

Twitch can't help it, and she's jumping in, "It's not just that! What about before? Like when we didn't know you were you, and we just felt it?"

Thrash is nodding so fast he's practically a blur. "Me an' Twitch felt weird for weeks. And it was you. We felt what you were feeling. And I was thinking maybe you can do the same as we- uh, like how we feel with each other?"

Rung watches, and waits, listening to their attempts at explanation become more convoluted by the sentence. Thankfully, before either she or Thrash can get too frustrated, he raises both hands in a calming gesture before speaking again.

"The bond you share is special. You're connected. You will be connected for life. We are also connected, though to a lesser extent. At one time, all of Cybertron was. But that time has long passed." His expression turns downward, a small frown. "I wish I could say I was surprised that feeling has been forgotten by so many. But that's somewhat unfair. You two are very new, and so many of us are very, very old."

"You mean this feeling could go away?" Twitch asks, voice small.

"No, no," Rung insists simply, "as I said, your bond is special. You will never forget where you've come from, nor will you forget the ones you'll grow alongside. You are all so very lucky."

And maybe it's the confidence felt in those words, or the sadness in Rung's eyes… Thrash and Twitch are satisfied to drop the subject (at least for right now). They chatter away, talking about family, training, everything they can think of that might entertain their new friend.

Twitch knows he's a friend, someone they can trust. She knows Rung; somehow, it feels like she always has. And someone she's known her whole life can't possibly be a stranger. She can't possibly forget the mech who smiles like the light, who feels like coming home.

[ukiyoebirds]

Dreadwing did not, in fact, understand the assignment.

Megatron is ringmaster of a clown circus and only Soundwave went to a professional clown college.

May need to click on the image for better resolution.

Joke workshopped with @krazycat6167

[lecanel]

Who will take him?

The current owner is unhappy with the pet. Perhaps he's causing problems...

[xenussx]

[vany-royal-6]

Help, I couldn't get the Frenzy and Rumble designs out of my head @ravenisbored26 , so I decided to draw them.

It's just Rumble and Frenzy fighting over the toilet paper throne... this is something that happens a lot in my country jskssjsj

Anddd Soundwave thinking, what did he do to have children like that?

Part 1

____________________

(The guy at the store looked at me strangely for taking pictures of just one shopping cart)

[nevgig]

Very random but while I was waiting for my husband in the car I doodled a Rodimus from memory

I miss hanging out in the tf fandom 😔🩵✌️

[random-cockroach]

AHGDAHGDH MMM I PRESENT MY 1 DAY MADNESS OVER THESE BOYS AND LOVE TO DANCES (and accidentally hearing this song again this morning which made my brain sqeacking)

[gl04-art]

A little lost light and transformers one crossover in a way. Really wanted to draw D-16 at least once :)

[the-nameless-artist-37]

@zorangezest

nothing to say. art.

[wireweaver]

Car robot fanart

[knnw-a]

[carrion-carry-on]

Light Seeks Out Life - Finding

Continuing from my previous post. It takes me a while, but I eventually get to finish (most) of the things I start lol

This chapter is a bit dialogue heavy and has Bumblebee as the focus character. Bumblebee doesn't remember somebody called 'Rung.' Optimus and Megatron do. The Malto parents are just a *bit* confused/concerned/doubtful.

Found on AO3 here

He's waiting for the kids to come back.

He used to have a problem with calling them 'kids.' It's a foreign word, a foreign concept. Cybertronians don't have kids - they don't have offspring. New forge is the closest he'd had in his vocab. But they weren't new forged. They didn't come into the world knowing certain things (how to transform, how to use their subspace, how to fire onboard weapons). He'd never had to explain how it feels to transform. So the concept of a 'kid' was the only thing that fit.

Over the years and years spent here Bumblebee has found himself increasingly accepting - even embracing - the organic inhabitants' vocabulary. He's learned to play by their terms, too. 'When in Rome,' and all that. He's learned to be a bit more lenient and understanding with the kids than he might've been with a new forge.

For example, not immediately panicking and comming Optimus or Elita when neither Thrash nor Twitch show up as the sun starts lowering on the horizon.

Instead, Bumblebee (very calmly, very patiently) tries to get ahold of the kids directly. They'd gone over internal communication lines for such possibly-but-not-quite-yet-emergencies. This situation is not an emergency. It's just circling the 'emergency' bay doors.

He never used to panic.

Bumblebee doesn't panic. Panicking as a scout gets you nowhere. You have to be loose, open to improvisation, look at things from a new angle - every angle. Maybe they don't realize what time it is. It's hard to see, it's still sort of drizzling, but his chronometer tells him it's getting close to sundown. Their own would alert them of the same thing. It's more likely they're away on purpose, or distracted.

He knows the current history lessons aren't exactly the most entertaining. Even with help from Alex and Dot, it's possible the Terrans still don't quite understand the lessons' importance. But playing hooky hasn't happened yet. Neither have proclivity towards outright disrespect.

More than likely (hopefully) they're just talking the audials off some 'Bot. Wheeljack could be out testing something new. But he goes into the forest for less population, where there's less less chance of an impromptu explosion maiming someone, and he's therefore less likely to get an irate Ratchet throwing things at his helm. Hound practically lives in the woods of Witwicky. Bumblebee hasn't managed to get ahold of him for formal introductions; with that hologram trick of his, it's nigh impossible to find Hound when he doesn't want to be found. Jazz will sometimes practice somewhere near the mountains. He's taken a shine to the children, and is the one most likely to try and entertain them.

That last thought makes Bumblebee feel slightly better. If they're with Jazz, no one, no Con, no human, would come close to even scratching their paint.

Bumblebee tries Thrash one last time. If he doesn't pick up, he can try to get Jazz or Arcee to-

"Hi Bee!"

Bumblebee doesn't yell, and he tries not to sigh (in relief, or exasperation). "Where are you?"

"Uh, walking back from the cave? We've still got time. My clock says we got 20 minutes, you gotta give us at least 15!"

There's a snap of static as Twitch joins the line. "And we're bringing a new friend!"

"I thought it was gonna be a surprise!"

"I never agreed to that, we didn't shake on it!"

As the siblings continued their rapidly devolving 'argument,' Bumblebee tries to think of who they could've met. Hopefully not a Con play-pretending at being friendly. But after the whole fiasco with Swindle, he likes to think the kids are more wary of strangers than before. That only leaves Hound. But he doesn't imagine the mech breaking cover just to say hello. He's gentle, quiet, and good natured. But he's mostly content to observe. The only scenario he can clearly see Hound stepping in is if someone was in trouble…

The words are out before his processor can catch up. "Are you alright?"

Twitch and Thrash both make a humming noise. It's nothing to do with their engine, or a rasping together of cabling - it's purely vocal, like with humans. At the end, the pitch swoops higher, questioning. Either they hadn't heard him, or they were doing that 'I heard you, but I'm still processing what was said.' He gives them a second.

"We're okay!" comes Twitch's easy reassurance.

"Better than 'okay'!" Thrash agrees.

Neither one has lied to him about injuries, and he really hopes that hasn't suddenly changed.

The siblings arrive with four minutes to spare. Said arrival lacks the usual exclamations and running. It's obviously for the benefit of the stranger standing in between them. The mech's set an ambling pace and looks appropriately from Thrash to Twitch depending on who's speaking. His manner is the fond indulgence of a mentor. Bumblebee doesn't recognize him.

That fact in itself is alarming enough. It's made worse by the nagging notion that Bumblebee should recognize him. It feels as if he knows him from somewhere. But the small noncombatant frame, unobtrusive paintjob, and lack of alt mode kibble makes him hard to place.

The mech lifts his gaze, and, even through the glasses, Bumblebee knows the exact moment their optics meet. He's looking straight at him, into him, all the way down to his spark. Then the mech tilts his helm and he's smiling brightly. As quick as it came, the feeling is gone.

"Bumblebee, it's good to see you again!"

He's sent stumbling over himself, taking the last few steps to meet the new arrival. All the while he's trying desperately to remember the mech's designation. "Yeah! You too, uh…"

Twitch saves him - barely. "This is Rung!"

"Oh, right! Rung!" Bumblebee's laugh is distracted. He furtively enters the designation into a seldom-used database. It's supposed to have basic information on Autobot affiliated noncombatants. It's also rather hit or miss. What with a war going on, entries had been seldom updated, or contained gross exaggerations. Now that the war is over, it seems abandoned.

Entering 'Rung' pulls up nothing except 'No match found' and 'Did you mean: 'Ring'?'

Bumblebee selects the query correction. That search pulls up a singular word: 'Psychiatrist.'

That's not really something he can use. He's never seen a psychiatrist. There were times, he can barely recall, where he was meant to've met someone for a mental health evaluation or something. But he was always needed in the field. He assumed all the related paperwork either got tied up, or signed off without a second thought.

"How did you guys meet?" Thrash asks.

Bumblebee was about to lie. He'd use some generic chance encounter and hoped Rung's memory wasn't significantly better than his is. Cliff used to call it 'spray and pray,' something as equally effective in social situations as it was on the battlefield.

Rung beats him to the punch. "It's been a bit since last we spoke, a few hundred years at least."

Both of the kids look impressed. Bumblebee feels himself start to wilt. It may seem like a long time to the Terrans, but for a Cybertronian…

Rung speaks up again, gaze squarely on Bumblebee. "Don't fret, this happens quite often." His tone is not uncharitable, nor offended. Still, he can't help but feel embarrassed. Or perhaps it's guilt…?

The remainder of the Maltos, the human part, arrive home not long after the sun dips below the horizon. They'd been away all day, attending a ceremony for Alex's recent promotion. Honestly, Bumblebee hadn't been aware there were stations after 'full professor.' Twitch and Thrash's human siblings greet their new friend with equal squalling enthusiasm.

While the children are preoccupied - and simultaneously (hopefully) distracting Rung - Bumblebee sneaks his way to Alex's side. He needs info, as much as he might be kicking himself for it later. A scout without info is one not long for the world. It's no longer war-time, but it's hard to break the drive. Short of asking Optimus himself (and all the embarrassment that would definitely bring), this particular human historian is his best bet.

"Recognize him?" Bumblebee asks.

To his dismay, Alex's head begins to shake. "I don't recall a Bot named Rung."

"Neither do I," Bumblebee mutters, more to express frustration than anything else. In a moment of weakness - or maybe Alex's persistence is growing on him - Bumblebee admits to the earlier confusion.

Alex hums contemplatively. When he speaks, it's soft, slow, trying to lay out a problem for everyone to understand. "He insists you both have met before. Not only that, but you've spoken about something. Recently, too - eh, relatively speaking. But you don't recall meeting him."

Alex glances to his wife. Dot doesn't offer much beyond her own reflective noise. Bumblebee thinks she might not be fully listening, too keen-eyed, watching her offspring interact with someone who's still essentially a stranger.

He's proven wrong not a moment after, when she says, "He doesn't seem like he'd stand out. On the other hand, you're not what I'd call the forgetful type." Her brow is furrowed.

Looks like he's calling Optimus after all.

Optimus knows more than he's letting on. Bumblebee's sure of it. He's acting different. It's subtle, not enough for the humans to notice, nor the Terrans. It's something Bumblebee can spot only after spending a couple million years fighting by the big mech's side. Others might look at Optimus' finials - he knows to look at his chassis. Or, more specifically, the Matrix inside.

Bumblebee didn't know Orion Pax. He doesn't know how the Matrix changed him, if at all. And it might be callous, but he never quite cared to know. It didn't matter. The war had occupied every waking thought; Orion didn't matter so much as Optimus did.

Bumblebee knows Optimus. He knows how the Matrix's light will shine or wane depending on how the Prime is feeling. It can even give away inklings of what he's thinking. It makes him easy to know, easy to trust, even if you aren't consciously aware of it - most mechs aren't. The only reason he knows about the Prime's tell is because Jazz laid it all out after a particularly hard night of partying. With how much the mech is used to watching people, reading them, Bumblebee's learned to take his word as law when it comes to subconscious expressions.

Optimus has been exhausted recently. He's content, smiling easy, talking happily with their human allies and his mechs. Yet every interaction carried with it an edge of fatigue. He's got a lot on his plate, more so now it seems than during the war. The Matrix has been glowing dimly.

Today, ever since locking gaze with Rung, the Matrix is shining brighter than it has in several months. Optimus recognizes Rung. But now, Bumblebee can't say whether or not that recognition is a good thing - if Rung is a good thing. Because Optimus is behaving like some nervous recruit fresh off a transport.

He's stepping lightly, still smiling politely, watching what he says, what he does. Like he's seeking approval and doing everything he can to be inoffensive.

Rung doesn't notice. Or if he does, he's a very good actor.

Megatron is almost the complete opposite. When the silver mech arrived in vehicle mode, he transformed almost immediately and hit the ground with an earth-shaking boom. He's projecting power and confidence, but not for intimidation. The ex-warlord isn't looming (even by accident). Instead, Megatron seems to be trying to use his swagger to gain Rung's approval - of all things.

Short and long of it, Bumblebee is certain they both know who Rung is. And he's apparently a lot more than a psychiatrist.

Rung makes mentoring look easy.

Only an hour into Optimus and Megatron's arrival, he's convinced all four children to head to bed. Dot helpfully added that the grown-ups had grown-up things to discuss. The siblings understood what that meant in no uncertain terms. It's a bit easier to frame it that way, but the message is the same: foot down, time to leave, do as you're told.

After Dot came back from seeing them in, she planted her feet wide and folded her arms across her chest. "We're staying," she said. Alex came up beside his wife, put an arm around her shoulders, and nodded once.

"Of course," Rung gives with a nod of his own. He removes his glasses and fixes them all one by one with searching optics.

Optimus makes a noise not unlike a human clearing their throat - an engine cough - and says, "For the benefit of mixed company," a pause to look at both humans and Bumblebee, "would you allow me to explain?"

"You're confident in the facts?" Rung asks. His tone implies banter, and his optics shutter with mirth.

Despite this, Optimus stalls out, his lips press into a thin line, uncertain.

A sigh from Megatron, followed by an extension of one servo, indicating Rung. "This is Primus," he says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Bumblebee feels his intake drop open slightly in processing several emotions at once - shock mostly. Of all the things Megatron has done, blasphemy might be a new one. Bumblebee doesn't believe in Primus, he never has and he doesn't think he ever will. The certainty Megatron voices in his assertion is unsettling.

Dot and Alex don't look especially convinced, either. Well, Dot looks skeptical. Alex mainly seems confused.

"That's not quite correct," Rung starts - Bumblebee feels brief relief - then he continues, "but closer than most have gotten."

"Wait, you're serious?" Bumblebee asks incredulously. He turns his gaze from Rung to Optimus. "He's serious?"

Optimus doesn't catch his look for a bit. He's too busy watching Rung with tired, worried optics. Worried for him, or about him? His finials twitch a bit and he's finally looking at Bumblebee, saying, "It's the truth, yes."

Bumblebee stares openly at Rung- Primus, apparently. The mech has taken to polishing his glasses. Without them, he looks so different. His optics glow bright with life, but their gaze, fixed upon nothing, speaks of fatigue. It's the same tired look Bumblebee's seen in so many of the old veterans.

Movement, and Bumblebee's turning his helm to find their human allies. Alex is moving forward gesturing with his arms. "Primus is Cybertron. How are you here? What happened?"

The words bring Rung out from whatever quiet rumination had brought on the world-weary expression. He finds both Alex and Dot, and his optics are once again gentle. "I am not quite Primus as you know him, that much should be obvious. How to explain… Primus, as a whole, is too large, too removed from mortality to experience things as any other life might. But Primus originally desired connection. He desired to know his creations, to live as they do. And so, a new being was forged."

Rung moves as he speaks, replacing his glasses before folding his spindly legs to kneel on the ground. In this manner, he is nearly eye-level with both the Maltos. "I am a splintered piece made into something wholly my own through disparate experience. I retain a connection to the whole, much of the knowledge, and some of the abilities. But ultimately, I am changed, a piece separate from the whole, one who can never go back to what it once was."

He remains where he's come to rest with both servos in his lap. Apparently he's content to turn this into a less-than-formal conversation, or at the least an awkward one. Are the rest of them meant to follow suit? Should they kneel, too? Or sit?

"I can tell you're a bit skeptical," Rung says as he continues to peer at their human company.

Dot raises one brow. "Just a bit."

Rung is smiling again. If not for the earlier flash of grief in his expression, Bumblebee might think he could do little else. "The thing about divinity… there is never any miracle to be wrought that might convince those who have already decided they do not believe." Rung raises an optical ridge- Bumblebee can tell when he's being watched - and one servo reaches into a compartment located beneath his spark window. "There's no harm in trying, however."

Rung produces from the small opening a simple, empty energon cube. There's a flash of light, energy being drawn in - or out - from somewhere, the air becomes momentarily heavy with charge. Then it's gone, and in Rung's servo sits the same cube now filled to its brim with rich, pink energon. He proffers the cube to Bumblebee; he takes it wordlessly.

All eyes are on Bumblebee now. Without fanfare he drinks it down; Bumblebee may not believe the guy's Primus, but he doesn't think someone trusted by both Optimus and Megatron would try to poison him. He's suddenly thinking back to Cybertron before the war, before even the rumors of unrest. As a rare treat Bumblebee had decided to request yttrium be added to his order. The bartender had gone a bit overboard and added… something else. He'd never been able to pry the answer from him (the mech was a red minibot with a motormouth, loved to talk, but never gave away his mixes).

He resets his optics once, then twice. He looks from the cube he's holding to Rung, and back again. "How…?"

"I'm fond of the mix as well - the extra bite to it comes from very small amounts of silver. The taste might be a bit off, yttrium here on earth has an oxide film to it. Without passivation yttrium's exposure to air can be a tad explosive!"

The rest of Rung's explanations fade out of comprehension. Bumblebee isn't listening. He's trying to think. Maybe Rung knew the same bartender. Maybe he frequented the establishment just as often as Bumblebee. Pit, maybe he was even there, in the bar that very same day when Bumblebee was served the drink.

Even if those coincidences somehow made sense, he didn't know how to possibly explain the energon synthesizing. Sure, some mechs could do it, but that's because their alt-mode had some kind of specialization. Rung certainly didn't look like a mech that transforms into an energy distillery. Bumblebee's processor is whirling away, trying to comprehend something his spark has been insisting all along. Rung might actually be what- who he claims to be.

By the time he tunes in again, the conversation seems to mostly be revolving around Alex's professional, historical curiosities. Rung's a bit dry, certainly compared to Kup (granted, most of Kup's stories are intrigue and frontline accounts). But it's an improvement over Bumblebee's halting, often half-baked memories. He may try, but he'll never pretend he can teach the Terrans things beyond bare-bones basics on Cybertron's multitude of cultures and political spheres.

When Dot asks what Rung did during the war, the atmosphere shifts a bit. It's awkward, and yet empty. Rung's expression becomes somewhat cloudy with what is most recognizable as regret.

"I was a psychiatrist… Not a very good one. Or, perhaps, I was too good at it."

At least Bumblebee knows part of his initial info had been correct.

Rung removes his glasses to make deliberate eye contact. It's a solemn gaze, but not unkind. "I cared a bit too much, I thought of many of my patients as friends. I put people in danger, signed off on the forms allowing emotionally compromised, mentally unstable mechs to return to battle because they were needed - because no one else could do what they could. Even after being disbarred, I continued to practice. It was a selfish, arrogant choice."

Every sentence is a confession, a sin laid bare. Rung, an embodiment of Primus, is confessing to being fallible. Bumblebee listens much the same as the rest of his company. Silent, somewhat stunned. With such a list of weighted mistakes it's clear Rung's given a lot of thought to this. He's not sure if that's better or worse.

Next to and above him, Bumblebee notices when the hulking blue and red frame that is Optimus raises his servos in a hovering uncertain motion.

"I'm sure it wasn't all as bad-"

"No, it certainly was," Rung counters, voice firm. Another sad, tired expression crossed the sharp features of the mech's faceplates. He seems for all the world to be yet another mech; regretful, pained, worn out. "What I said about Primus originally desiring connection? It holds true in me, too. I was lonely- I am lonely. I sought connection, I became involved. I was unable to keep the separation required of my profession. It is yet another distinction between myself and the whole. I am fallible."

Silence, heavy, whole, settles over them all. Rung gives them several moments to remain that way. Bumblebee finds the older mech's gaze and pushes everything he has to somehow say 'not yet, there must be more' and 'please, there has to be, this can't be it.'

Alex shifts his weight and Dot sighs - a breath that leaves in a solid 'whoosh' of air and puffed cheeks. Megatron also shifts in the way of groaning metal and creaking struts. In another moment, it might have seemed comical. Optimus appears lost. His servos are still hovering, wanting to touch, to offer comfort, but not knowing whether it would be accepted, or acceptable.

A sharp intake of air through squeezed vents. Rung's chassis heaves upwards for the effort. He's calm before continuing, "I am also capable of change in a way that Primus is not. It's true that I am fallible. But so are we all. Even the Primes were fallible. I think that makes our efforts all the more admirable. It takes strength to keep going, to strive to be better, do better… And, hopefully, we can teach the younger generations to avoid making our same mistakes."

The words of comfort don't quite make their mark. The atmosphere is still heavy. Bumblebee is surprised to feel himself move. He makes the connection that Optimus wouldn't, or couldn't make. One of his servos clasp gently to Rung's shoulder. The difference in size isn't as pronounced as with his Terran charges. He remembers, barely, a time when he felt small; a time when he was new to the world, new to the people around him. He's never felt lucky to've had the mentors he did.

"That's what I'm- what we're all trying to do." He nods once with certainty (to convince Rung? Or himself?). He's determined to do this. He knows that he can be the mentor the kids need. And he's not doing it alone.

Rung's servo slots in over Bumblebee's. For a mech with no engine, he's surprisingly, comfortingly warm. "I'm glad," another knowing smile, "I hope to help with that. If you'll let me."

[whitenightblackcat]

Don't worry, they are just missing their wives.

[lecanel]

What do you really want?

(I love this mem and these funny duets)

[xenussx]

Okay………whatever you say Ratchet

[birdie-ghost]

They are debating about whether or not to squish you.

btw here's the speedpaint! I don't normally record them but I like the way this one looks.