#but something about perceptor is making me like well i have to stay in the realm of reality for this science!!

[rifleseye]

I THINK THAT'S THE LAST I'LL BE TAKING OF THOSE FOR A WHILE.

[cozzzynook]

Brining back Rodimus's murder baby Tarn with a slight wholesome idea.

During a peace conference meeting Rodimus is barely staying awake as he listens to the never ending speeches of his fellow autobots as well as decepticons. He is about half way into recharge until someone suddenly speaks up mentioning that the DJD are here and are currently waiting outside, that causes Rodimus to suddenly wake up and get out of his seat to see what's going on. After stepping outside Rodimus barely has time to speak when he is suddenly tackled by a very giddy Tarn who is giving him a bear hug.

"Carrier! Did you miss me? I brought you a gift, its one of those amethysts gems you like to collect. I brought it for you since it's purple like me so you have something to remember me by when you go on long trips"

Meanwhile everyone except Megatron is just standing there in shock as they watch on. Perceptor almost seemed to crash when he heard Tarn call Rodimus Carrier, how-when did- of all mechs that's his grand bittie? While Megatron just simply rolls his optics and grumbles "He still hasn't out grown his Carrier phase...at lest Rodimus doesn't seem to mind"

And he doesn't Roddy is proud that Tarn has slowly started to heal and decided to try out new hobbies, he has Nickel to thank for that. Hopefully once the peace treaty is signed and Cybertron gets to heal, he can spend more time with big adopted sparkling.

You don’t know how happy i was when i saw this & how happy it makes me to read & see this!

I LOVE murder baby tarn & i love rodimus being his adopted carrier!!

Poor Percy is ready to blow a gasket thinking his bitty was sparked by some mech or femme & left behind & he didn’t know it.

And Megs is just exasperated because Tarn never got over his severe psychological issues & trauma & has now latched on tightly to Rodimus who doesn’t mind one bit.

Its literally spark stopping seeing the terrifying Tarn sit in Rodimus lap like a new spark taking a nap

[theoceanoasis]

More deity Hot Rod/Rodimus please?

"What are we going to do now?"

He put a protective hand on his belly feeling scared. Now that everyone knew who he was. He worried about his little one.

"We'll figure something out I won't let them hurt you or our sparkling."

Soundwave's cassettes came running over looking proud of their distraction and also wanting to know what happened.

"Hot Rod is sparked."

The Decepticons looked at him in shock and then congratulated them.

"I don't know if you two were told or not, but we've learned some interesting information. Some of the Hot Spots have suddenly activated."

"People think you are responsible which is crazy because you weren't even on Cybertron."

They glanced at each other and Ravage frowned.

"How did-?"

"It's complicated."

"They're looking for you right now."

"We also have some bad news."

"What is it?"

"They don't want you leaving Cybertron anymore. They've decided you can't be captain of the Lost Light and are planning on destroying the ship to keep you here."

"What!?"

Even though he knew there was a chance that might happen it still hurt. The Lost Light was home and the people on it were his family or at least he thought so.

"What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to stay on Cyberton."

"I think that's a good idea. It seems like they want to lock you away in some temple."

He shivered hating that idea.

"I need to grab some things from the Lost Light and then we can find a ship. It's obviously too dangerous to stay here. Not only are they after me, but when they realize I'm sparked. They'll be after my sparkling as well."

"We're with you, whatever you want to do."

Soundwave's cassettes helped sneak them back onto the ship. The crowd outside had grown since that morning and even inside his room he could hear them calling for him. Demanding he let them use him.

Rushing around he grabbed whatever was important to him. He didn't notice he was crying until Soundwave wiped his optics.

"Hot Rod? Are you okay?"

"No. This was my home and now it's gone."

Soundwave pulled him close and he sobbed. His spark breaking at the idea of leaving the Lost Light and the family he'd created.

He wished he could turn back time or at least make them all forget. He hated being a deity. He didn't deserve to be worshipped not after Nyon. Not after he failed to protect them.

There was a knock on the door and he tensed. Soundwave pulled him closer and the cassettes went to answer it.

"What are you doing here?"

"I know Rodimus is inside. We need to talk."

"You've done enough."

"It's important."

They pushed past the cassettes walking into his room. He felt his powers start to activate worried they'd take him by force.

He looked at his ship's high command. The people he trusted the most who now stood before him.

Perceptor stepped foward and to his surprise he hugged him.

"I'm sorry Rodimus. I should have noticed the way you were being treated... I always get caught up in science and my experiments I forget what's happening around me, that people have feelings. I thought you were okay with everyone treating you like some kind of deity. Which is why I ignored it when I shouldn't have. I should have told you this doesn't change anything. You are my captain and my family. In some ways I see you as my child. Even though I have not protected you these past few weeks like I should have."

He felt tears fall and he buried his head against his shoulder crying. Perceptor just held him as the others came over apologizing as well.

Drift gave him a guilty look and Ratchet nudged him clearly unimpressed with his Conjunx behavior. Drift guilty pulled him to the side and the two of them talked it out.

Which ended with them clinging to each other and crying. The others joined them and he smiled. Years falling because it felt like he had his family back and that they hadn't abandoned him.

"We've talked to the rest of the crew and they are also sorry. None of us want the Lost Light to be destroyed. This is our home and we're a family. We should have sticked by your side. Instead of treating you differently because of our own beliefs."

"We want you as our captain and we promise to stop treating you like a deity."

"Will you accept or... Is it too late?"

Magnus gave him a worried look and he squeezed his friends hand.

"As long as all of you don't treat me differently. I'm happy to be your captain."

They all hugged each other again before gathering the crew. It wasn't easy but they managed to sneak onto their ship. Barricading the doors in case anyone realized what they were doing.

He stood on the bridge waiting for take off with Soundwave by his side. He squeezed his hand and Soundwave pulled him closer. The two of them watching at the ship lifted off quickly leaving Cybertron behind.

He didn't know what the future had in store for him but as long as he had his family. He knew it was all going to work out. He put a hand on his belly and looked at Soundwave who nuzzled him. Both of them excited to see what the future had in store for them.

~The End~

[toyotacorolla2008]

hi!!! i was wondering if you could do a tutorial for how you draw transformers? i can never simplify them like you can. do you have any tips?? also love your art sm <33

hi ヾ(•ω•`)o

I WILL TRY MY best to explain what i do… i don’t actually have a very structured system but this is vaguely how i got started and how i simplified the process

1. look up and compile a whole bunch of references

this will be useful for EVERYTHING– transfomos come with lots of shapes and gizmos and details and stuff so a variety of references from different angles and in different poses is really useful because you can see the shapes they’re made out of and also understand how everything connects with each other

trapezoid town! this is a mess but it’s a quick example of how by looking at everything you start to notice trends or details like what moves with what or how flexible some parts are

there are a whole bunch of resources very nice people have compiled on the web like here here here here and here (mainly MTMTE) and there is a discord server (this is a link to a tumblr post about it and not the invite link itself) for it too but you can always look through the source material and just start screenshotting and pasting shit into a folder. 

you don’t have to do humongous in-depth breakdowns if you just want to be able to quickly doodle robots (god knows i don’t!!) but having the references on-hand makes it easier for the times when you’re like This pose is going to be challenging and I’m not sure how all of the cuboids will be positioned.

references also help break you out of thinking of it as just drawing blockier humans because the proportions and shapes vary a looooooot

2. draw draw draw

at first i drew a lot using refs heavily to get an idea of the shapes then i got lazy and just started drawing anime girls and smacking rectangles and kibble on top BUT as you draw more and more you start to pick up on the Salient Features as well as their General Silhouette.

drawing from memory means that what makes them look recognisable will become more emphasised in your mind so you’ll naturally pick up on how you can simplify them without losing what makes your guy Look Like Your Guy. so if you want to simplify the robots just be incredibly lazy like me B)

i'm kind of horrible because i don't even do like Basic Shapes i literally just eyeball it

for poses i rectangle it out while thinking really hard

anyway when i first tried to draw transformers but Something Didn’t Look Right it was either a) the level of detail across the entire drawing was inconsistent and threw it off balance or b) proportions weren’t right and these things only got better with me finangling and doodling and learning by iteration.

of course sometimes i don’t give a fuck because no cops in transformers doodle land but yeahhhh i’m the kind of guy who only gets through stuff by throwing a lot of rocks at it. i don’t have a Method to offer you unfortunately but what i did do was

3. experiment and exaggerate and experiment!!

The First Rule of Gun Safety is to Have Fun and Be Yourself! i took a lot of liberties and rarely stayed on-model when i doodled and waffled around (and i still do…) but it helped me figure out how much i was willing to draw lol and consequently how i would stylise them.

i would play with how big or small or exaggerated or expressive they'd be… even my most detailed drawings are nowhere near comic-detail but my least detailed ones were. turquoise triangle that’s vaguely brainstorm-shaped. having fun with it and just doing it to make stupid jokes makes the practice seem like not practice.

so yeah tl;dr i started by reffing what bots actually look like, would trace comic panels to get an idea of the shapes and details and then start drawing side-by-side → drew billions of perceptors from my diseased mind and played around with lines → ??? → upgraded from goofy-looking rectangles to goofy-looking rectangles

that’s it for advice! (i don’t feel qualified to say that much)

below are just examples of stupid doodles i’d make on my ipad in class or in the margins of assignments lol, you can tell the last one is from when i still didn't understand brainstorm's build very well because the wings are placed wrongly... But i grew.

hope this was somewhat helpful! there are other tutorials from other artists that i can direct you to but this is how toyotacorolla2008 got to shitposting on tumblr dot com

[minorisato]

wavering, a flashback, before my eyes!

transformers, original work / NA / wc: 997 / warnings: NA / notes: experiment on that guy lets go

“You’re in shockingly good condition,” Perceptor nods. “It’s rare to see human-done repairs to Cybertronians turn out so… clean.”

Betamax nods. “Yes, my sister did a very good job repairing me. I suspect I wouldn’t be here today if not for her.”

Perceptor makes a note on his datapad. “No, I suppose not. You’re quite lucky she possessed the level of skill required to repair you.”

As the two talk, Brainstorm, at the opposite end of the room, reads the patterns going off in Betamax’s processor. “See, this is very fascinating,” he announces, gesturing to somewhere low on the screen. “You can see him forgetting things in real time. Any memory file from more than seven years ago seems to have…” he waves a servo. “About a 73% chance of being deleted. The chance gets higher, the more time passes, but it doesn’t seem to ever reach 100%.”

Perceptor nods again, tapping more notes into his datapad, glancing up for only a second. “How old is the oldest memory?” He asks, making his way over to his lab partner.

“Oldest memory is from about 13 years ago, but the file itself is only a few seconds long.” He points to a different screen. “See, every 42 minutes or so, his processor randomly decides whether or not to delete it. That happens with all memories over seven years old– that one, in specific, has just been getting really lucky.” He shifts, pointing somewhere else, now. “See, there–”

Then, suddenly, the screen goes dark, and the readings stop coming in. The scientists snap around to see Betamax, holding onto the cable that had previously been attached to his helm. He simply wrenched it out.

“I just remembered,” he explains, frantic, “I agreed to meet up with the others at Swerve’s almost twenty minutes ago.” He practically throws the cable to floor, making his way out as fast as he can. “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to stay for the rest of the tests. Maybe tomorrow.”

Both scientists stare at the doorway in shock as Betamax speeds out, and it’s only after he’s already gone that Brainstorm manages to grasp himself, attempting to chase after him. “Betamax, wait!” 

Perceptor resets his optics. “Does he know,” he asks, though he isn’t asking Brainstorm, necessarily. “He knows that just yanking cables out is bad for you, right.”

Brainstorm invents, exvents, and shrugs. “If he doesn’t, he’s gonna figure it out really quickly.”

~~~~

Betamax is acting weirder than usual. It does not take a genius to notice this, which makes Psyber question why no one else has picked up on it.

He’s joking around like he usually does, with their little group they’ve accumulated, and that’s all well and good. What is distinctly not well and good is that every now and then, he’ll throw out something completely unrelated to the conversation, and act like it’s the most reasonable response he could come up with. His helm would jerk, or he would twist in a strange way, and if it was only once or twice that’d be fine, but it’s happening consistently enough that it’s surpassed strange into worrying.

After Betamax brings up Earth mammals for the third time, Psyber decides that hy’s had enough, grabbing the tape player by the arm and dragging him out of the bar.

“Where are we going?!” Betamax asks, as he’s pulled through the ship’s halls.

“You,” Psyber starts, “are going to talk to Ratchet, because you are being stupid and crazy and I am worried about you.”

Betamax scoffs. “I don’t need to talk to Ratchet. I don’t even know the purpose of beehives.”

Psyber groans. “That’s why you’re going to talk to Ratchet! ‘Cause you keep saying weird nonsensical bullshit like that!” Hy huffs. “I know you have memory problems, but you aren’t stupid, c’mon.”

When they finally do reach the medbay, Ratchet takes one look at the tape player and groans. “I promise he’s fine,” the CMO says, before they’re even fully in the door.

Behind hys visor, Psyber glares at him, shoving Betamax towards the medic. “I promise he is not fine because I know what fine looks like for him, and it’s not this!” Hy folds hys arms. “He’s saying things completely unrelated to any conversation out of nowhere, and he keeps twitching and moving in weird ways, and like, normally he isn’t this bad. He doesn’t do that. Make him stop it.”

Ratchet sighs, turning to Betamax. “Did you hit your processor or something?”

“Can you take this seriously?!”

“You,” he points at Psyber, “hush. Betamax, did you do anything out of the ordinary today? Something that might impact your processor, in any way?”

It takes him a second, but Betamax does nod. “Perceptor and Brainstorm were running some tests on my memory files, and such. They had inserted a cable into the back of my helm, in order to connect to my processor.”

Ratchet nods. “And were there any complications, or anything? Nothing going wrong, Brainstorm didn’t install anything?” As Ratchet spoke, Betamax shook his helm. “They unplugged you properly?”

At that, the tape player paused. “Properly?”

Psyber grimaced. “Beta…”

Ratchet rubbed his helm. “When you disconnect a cable from someone’s ports, there’s a safe way to do it to ensure no damage is done to their internals. In this case, to make sure no damage was done to your processor.” He looks down at Betamax. “They unplugged you properly, right?”

Betamax glances down at the floor. “I unplugged myself, actually.”

“And I’m assuming you just yanked the cable out.”

Betamax feels himself flushing a bit. “Yes, sir.”

Ratchet sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That explains it.” He turns to Psyber. “He’s fine, his processor is likely still just jumbled from the cable being improperly removed. Give him a few hours and he’ll be fine.”

Psyber huffs. “Thank you for your wisdom, oh wise old-timey doctor.”

Said doctor scoffs, turning away from the pair. “Get out.”

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Hypnagogic Hallucination || Sg

I can wait for you at the bottom I can stay away if you want me to I can wait for years if I gotta

[”I’ve always been business before pleasure. Not sure what you think you’re gonna get out of me.”, says the madman machinist as he lifts a champagne glass to his lips.

“Maybe I’m suggesting they can exist as an intersection instead of a parallel?”

Brainstorm pauses, locking eyes with his conversation mate in the dim yellow light of a bar that looked like something out of a golden age movie.

“...And what did you say your name was, again.”

“Call me Skids. I’ll leave you my... contact info, QS Brainstorm. Drop me a line sometime.”]

Whirl didn’t like him. Part of it was, no doubt, jealousy- he and his ang- Boss had been getting closer, coming to a more even and equal keel since the rewrite of his contract and then this.... Usurper had decided to waltz in and now everything felt wrong.

Whirl swallowed the growl in his throat as this Skids person had the audacity to waltz into the kitchenette like he owned the place- neck smeared in marks and bites and chest not faring much better.

“Good mornin’.”

“Wow, you spoke to me! Progress.”, laughed Skids as he reached by Whirl for the coffeepot. The intruder in Whirl’s space froze, feeling the the silent rattle of prosthetic hands that wanted nothing more than to cinch shut.

“Allow me sir. I insist.”

“Uh- sure. Not a problem.”

The silence was palpable and broken only by the clink of a mug boasting all the signs of handmade and expensive.

“So.”, began Whirl, his voice low, “Who, exactly, did you say you were under the employ of?”

“Ah, hm. Well, I am... an agent of the New Institute of course.”, was the answer, and Whirl felt the sly tone wrapping around the words like serpentine hypnosis, “An academic, like your... boss. Shared interests, you see. I’d heard about his work, become fascinated by it really, and now here we are.”

“Heard of his work, hm?”, asked Whirl, his voice unnervingly calm.

“Yes, why?”

Whirl handed a mug of steaming coffee to Skids, his smile not reaching his eyes as he tilted his head.

“Well, I would like to have a list of your sources, Skids- it’s concerning you’ve heard talk of his work given how every project he heads or takes on is immediately classified unto redacted from official and unofficial record. If there’s a leak, I should plug it.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get back to you on that.”

Whirl watched Skids retreat, noting the way his steps were silent, the way his body was tense yet fluid at the same time. He squinted, unsure. Against his preference, he reached up to tap his comm and called a line-number he’d pinged twice a day since his Boss’s relationship started almost a month ago.

[Commlink Identifier Perceptor Reached. Commlink Currently Unavailable. Please Leave Return Ping PIN. Thank You.]

“Damn.”

 The pinged scientist in question sat in dark silence. A wineglass in a twitchy grip and glaring at the wall.

He hadn’t left his hab in days. Hadn’t spoken in a week. He tongued a fang, and glared through the darkness with an eye mutated to see near perfectly in the absence of light at the vent at the top of his wall, as he had done many nights.

Many nights since Brainstorm had found a new... interest.

Waking up from fitful naps to the muffled call of a voice he recognized making sounds he had caused many times- the wine and blood staining the wall he stared at spoke volumes of when his temper would overtake him; normally so rare an occurrence and yet here he sits and grinds his teeth like ancient millstones and swears he taste saltpeter between sharpened incisors.

His commpiece on the coffee table goes off, and he frowns like a sneering predator knowing who it was.

“Oh piss off, punching bag bitch.”, he hisses into the darkness, “Go handle your little ANGEW you pathetic little. Ugh.”

He drains his glass, getting to his feet- bare, dotted with blood from broken glass he walked over by the wall without a care- and he walked with the sway of a serpent’s head to his own kitchenette to pour himself another glass.

His nails dig into the counter as he thinks. Remembers. Had it already been an entire month...?

[”What did you say his name was.”, asks Perceptor, frozen for a moment as he cocks his head.

“Skids.”, answers Brainstorm with an almost fond chuckle. Perceptor hates the sound, “Said he was with the main planet R&D department under Optimus himself.”

“...He’s not.”, says Perceptor flatly, turning and concerned and enraged alla t once, “He’s with the ADJ- Brainstorm, you need to chase him off immediately, it’s not safe to have him around you-”

“Oh please. I’ve handled YOU all these years haven’t I?”

“I’m the evil you know, but even I don’t dally with Prowl’s lackeys! You know the blind Zealot himself is beyond unhinged and dangerous and Skids is one of his favorites-”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”, snaps Brainstorm, “I can handle myself, you think some woowoo soldier-preacher can outsmart ME? Much less one of his underlings IF that is even true.”

There’s a beat of quiet in the conversation, before Brainstorm smiles smugly and crosses his arms.

“...You’re jealous, aren’t you Percy. Cause I don’t want you anymore.”]

“So what if I am.”, hisses the sniper to the empty hab, “At least I’m a devil you’re used to; you beautiful, brilliant dumbfuck.”

It would be another week before finally, FINALLY- Whirl got an answer.

::What is it.::

::Took you long enough, sniper.::, grumbles Whirl quietly, ::I don’t trust this Skids that ang- Boss is gettin’ with.::

::Come off it you sappy dumbass, we all know you call him angel. Own it. And you shouldn’t trust him- he’s ADJ. Prowl’s pet rats.::

::...He told me he was with New Institute.::

::That sector shut down years ago. He told Brainstorm he was part of Optimus’s planetside R&D sector.::

::This is fishy.::

::It’s not my problem. I’m just jealous, according to him- that’s why I get the most delightful symphonies at night.::

::...Shit, I didn’t even-::

::Don’t call me to save him anymore. I’ve paid my debts Whirl of Polyhex.::

Whirl flinched at the sharpness with which the connection died. He looked up, ,leaning slightly to peek through the ajar door to his boss’s personal quarters and felt something bitter in his throat at the way he could see Skids draping over the industrialist’s back.

Whirl looked away when he noticed the shine to their skin; busying himself with something, anything to keep his focus away and tame the frigid curling sensation in his chest.

The months pass like molasses, like syruped strychnine the days drizzle by and Whirl feels himself once more icing over in his old permafrost- no longer meeting Brainstorm’s eyes and feeling a peculiar sting at the realization that Brainstorm either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He’s not sure which is worse.

Perceptor isolates in the biolab- arms burning from self-samples taken with little care for himself beyond protocol and sterile handling; throwing himself into understanding and controlling the mycomutagen rushing through his system and swallowing his soul. At least something needs him, anymore.

And Brainstorm... feels like he’s floating. His mornings are soft- soft in a way they hadn’t been with Perceptor in years, soft in ways he hadn’t yet really considered with Whirl; be it from insecurity or frustration. Skids was... easy to read. Easy to predict. Curious and gentle-voiced; body soft and unmodified and real and warm in ways Brainstorm wasn’t used to.

Skids’ teeth were blunt. Human, really human- like his eyes, like his hands. Like his expressions telegraphed like neon signs and so easy to read.

It would have been easy for Brainstorm to love him only for that.

But beyond that; flying under Brainstorm’s radar using the scientist’s ego as a shade- Skids was so very...curious. Asking questions, innocent and smooth and kind in that gentle voice of his like liquid gold, like warm honey. Eyes wide in awe and praise and his compliments sounding so earnest and eager and feeding into the forgefire of a god complex still blossoming.

However... there is a rule of the universe that is best to remember:

If it sounds too good to be true, it is.

The servers shut down all at once. Brainstorm jerks out of his work trance, blinking in the white light at his reflection in the screens and there is the sound of security guard’s boots and protection drone wheels up and down the halls. Doors automatically lock and seal and there is nothing in or out on the commlines for hours.

Brainstorm, curious and concerned, feels no qualms about overriding the lockdown and skulking down halls to security elevators- rolling his eyes and muttering something about handing control of security to him given the false alarms that had been popping up over and over-

He stands in front of his door, and hears it- a gunshot. Silenced, but audible to his modified ears; he shields with one hand and fires into the unlock panel for his hab to activate the emergency opening mechanism to see Whirl crumpled on the floor and the flash of a server case from near the glass door that led out to a balcony where many a night was spent looking up at false stars.

“...Skids?”

“Shit.”, is the sigh in the darkness as Brainstorm creeps in from the always muted entry hallway. 

“Lights full- what the- THAT’S MY-”

“Aht, don’t yell now. I’d really hate to have to kill you too Stormy.”, says Skids with a mockery of pity on his face, “Not to bothered by your bodyguard- it was getting annoying watching him pine over you and give me the stink eye every fucking morning.”

“What is the MEANING of this Skids, why do you have my transport case, what the hell is this!”, snarls the industrialist as he kicks briefly back at the half open door before stomping forward, “Put your fucking gun DOWN, you know I won’t fucking die.”

“Theoretically, you won’t die.”, says Skids too sweetly, “Unless someone knew how to set up something useful, like say a mini-EMP. And knew how your failsafe worked.”

Brainstorm stopped- his coat shifted slightly against his legs like the exhale of a bitter god laughed at his back.

“Don’t take this personally babe. You really are a sweet guy- not too bad in bed either, even if your snoring is atrocious. But... you’re easy.”

“Wha-”

“To convince, babe, keep up.”, said Skids impatiently, “You really gotta work on that. And hey, maybe getting your servers jacked by what your old fuckbuddy calls a Prowl Lackey will learn you a thing or two. Consider it a free lesson from the best.”

“But. But you, and I-”

“Brainstorm, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Handle your dying bodyguard there, don’t do anything stupid. Leave cockiness to the ones who can back it up, yeah?”

“Oh precious, big words!”

Brainstorm knows the smell of burnt hair. He felt the heat of plasmafire cruise next to his ear and scorch a few stray curls as it passed and saw Skids shriek and dive to the side. A pistol clatters to the floor and Brainstorm stumbles and falls when he’s shoved out of the way and Perceptor is there.

His hair slicked down, like the old days. His face severe and cold and vicious and in stark contrast to the deep gemstone tones of his cosmetics.

“Leave the case, jackal-pup.”, hisses the sniper with a rasp like cheap wine and expensive whiskey, “Leave the case and warn your precious little master that a notice has been sent up the chain. Some cookie jars don’t need bloody fingers fondling the rim.”

Skids raises his gun and Perceptor’s free hand has a pistol in it and firing before the ADJ agent can pull his own trigger- Skids swears again as his weapon is pinged out of his grip and Brainstorm can see the sizzle and smoke of burns on the agent’s hand.

And then Skids is gone- kicking the sliding back door and vanishing into the false night of an enclosed planetary colony.

Brainstorm looks up to Perceptor, feeling his chest clench at the nonacknowledgement as the sniper turns to the groaning Whirl.

“Come off it, you aren’t dead yet darling. Stop flopping about like an old roach.”

“Fuck...hyooo.”, wheezes Whirl as he eases himself into a sitting position. He taps fingertips over the hole in his shirts before pulling it off to reveal bulletproof armor with a heavy plasma burn.

“Good. Plan went off without a hitch.”, said Perceptor as he holstered his pistol and stood with hip cocked. Finally, then, he looked down to Brainstorm with something other than emptiness in his good eye.

“Next time, maybe you’ll listen when someone cares enough to warn you, asshole.”

And Brainstorm watched him stalk out of the hab, vanishing down the hall with a hand to his commpiece with a “Hello, Xaaron” as two medics rushed the room in a flurry of white and red and clinical concern.

Brainstorm sat on the floor, overcoat puddled around him like a wedding dress left at an empty altar- he looked up, he reached for Whirl with a plea he couldn’t manage to voice on his lips and felt his heart creak as Whirl flinched away, looking to the side like a scorned spouse.

For all Brainstorm had bragged of his intelligence, his wit, his perfection- he had been fooled with nothing more than kisses and smiles.

He takes his vigil around the empty space where Whirl should be- flitting about his bodyguard’s shadow like a brokenhearted ghost and desperately trying to build his anger back up- fuel himself on rage arrogance like he had before but the fire simply refused to burn. The tinder spent and wood dampened by the frost all around him until he did the only thing left for him to do-

He sat up, sleepless and hurting in his empty bed and hiccupped softly. The tears came easy, they always had to his eternal annoyance but the mourning- oh, that was hard to come by. And he dressed quickly; his coat abandoned on the form in the corner and he ghosted out of his hab and over to the next door in the line- so familiar a route.

He forewent knocking, entering a code long since memorized and choking on the twisting sensation in his chest when the code spat back NOT RECOGNIZED in a digital font.

He curled his titanium hand into a fist... and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

He knocked again. And again. And again and he hated the weakness, the need he felt and he all but crumpled in front of of Perceptor’s door and his breathing hitched and-

“P-Percy, please I. I messed up, okay I messed up I just. I just wanted. I wanted someone who, who...”

‘Who was like you. Who was like the you who never came home. Who never said goodbye.’

The door opened. The smell of menthol smoke and liquor. A cool hand reaches down to brush knuckles over Brainstorm’s cheek and catch under his jaw to tilt his face up to see the deadpan and hurting expression of one Perceptor of Altihex.

“...Oh darling. You’re a mess.”

“Y-Yes.”

Brainstorm stands, shaky and filled to overflowing with emotion, and Perceptor leads him into his lair, his home, with an exhale of smoke and a smile like the action hurts.

The door hisses shut behind the industrialist.

“....Love, this isn’t healthy for us. Especially not now.”

“I know.”

“...We can’t keep doing this, can we. This is... This is proof.”

“...Yes.”

“The jealousy, the goading... It isn’t good for either of us. I’m chasing a dream that died back when I had custody and you’re chasing a feeling that died when I got shot all those years back.”

“I. I know, Percy but- But please. Just.”

“Just one more hit, and then farewell.”

Brainstorm’s hands go to Percy’s hips and he buries his face into the sniper’s neck.

“I. I can’t promise that. I can’t, Perce, sweetheart, don’t make me lie to you.”

“We can’t keep hurting each other, love. It will only escalate.”

“Then let it, let it, let it-”

Perceptor’s back is against the wall, ash drifts away from the end of a cygarette and the chemicals turn their kisses tart and desperate.

‘Let it burn us both alive, maybe dying really would be easier.’

“How long, darling, before I abandon you for the good Doctor again.”, whispers the sniper as he nuzzles Brainstorm’s throat, “How long before you fade away from me to flutter your moth’s wings around the artisan bodyguard.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know anymore-....”

“Oh precious, you are easy to love based on your honesty alone when you allow it to show.”, coos the sniper before he licks a dribble of blood from the corner of his slyly upturned smile and looks down at the sprawled industrialist, “You are beautiful in your craving for punishment, in your demand for your own perfection but oh- oh you beautiful and brilliant fool.”

And Perceptor leans down and kisses Brainstorm’s already bitten lips before whispering, “I will give you your penance, because I know that’s what you want from me- to earn forgiveness. But this... this is the last time I allow myself to hurt you, my darling. Savor it, and then let yourself have the softness you need so very badly.”

It was unspoken. It was secret, and something their own and it never left Perceptor’s door.

Even when Brainstorm caught the eye of the curious who no doubt heard the whole night’s commotion and he glared at them with brass and blood eyes and a spine like iron; he silenced them without words and slunk back to his own hab to snatch his coat from it’s form and pull it over him like armor; fastening the front closed and sliding his feet into familiar boots that he laced with the cold practice of a madman binding his butcher’s heels.

And he stalked free into the halls, letting the grief and anger and sadness and hatred suffuse him.

Whirl awoke with a yawn when he heard footsteps, expecting a medic to be holding out a datapad with the discharge forms on the screen.

Brainstorm stood stock still, back towards the silently closing door.

“...I ignored your advice.”, said Brainstorm softly, “...That was fucking stupid of me to do, when you know better than I do. When it comes to people.”

Whirl was quiet.

“...I. I’m. I’m sorry, Whirl.”, he said quietly, “I was... needlessly...”

“You were an asshole, sir. All due respect.”, said Whirl quietly, “You are good at that, however. I don’t necessarily make a habit of pointing it out, you do that fine on your own, but I digress.”

“...That’s a bit harsh-”

“You made your ex listen to you get laid with your new piece every night for how long, again? That is not exactly the picture of professional grace.”

Brainstorm winced, “...You’re right. Unfortunately.”

“I’ll keep the admission between us, sir.”

“Thank you- please stop calling me that.”

“What.”

“Stop calling me sir.”

“You didn’t seem to be bothered by my silence or concern, so forgive me for going back to old habits.”

“Can. Can we try all this business again?”, said Brainstorm with a voice small, and quiet, and soft.

Whirl looked at him, an eyebrow raised, “This business?”

“...Being the way we were. Or were going to be.”

“...Maybe- but you’ll have to work for it-”

Brainstorm winced again, “Fair enough.”

“And we’ll see how you do... Angel.”

Brainstorm’s shoulders relaxed, and the corner of Whirl’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

[silver-03]

-End of the World Scenario-

-MTMTE x Human Reader-

• The bots are stuck on a world with no escape, the Lost Light is down, drained quantum engines have them stranded on a desolate planet right in the range of an oncoming dying sun going supernova any minute •

• Rodimus: To say the least, Rodimus was in an initial state of panic. Trying to get his crew to calm down, especially those with PTSD of Cybertron’s war days. However, things got worse. Some had chosen to.. offline themselves in the panicked state they were thrown to. Unable to comprehend the horrid end coming to them. Others had gone to drinking, which was most. The chaos was gone for the moment as the end neared. Swerve’s bar was full with drinks going around and Rodimus was trying to find you. Hoping that no one had killed you amongst the panic or you had done something drastic. He found you outside, on the roof of the ship where it was a common place for bots to go stargazing. You had enjoyed it there as well, he should have known you had come here. The atmosphere was hot, but not hot enough to where you would be sweating. The fiery captain would sit beside you as your empty eyes stared out to the oncoming disaster. “You know,” You began. “I never imagined it would come to an end like this.” There was a flash from afar, signaling there wasn’t much time left. “But I’m glad I got to spend these last few minutes with who I love. With all the stuff we’ve been through together.. the happy times, sad times, everything. It’s all come down to this.” Rodimus showed concern in his optics, he may be pretty heat resistant himself, but the blast of a supernova was too much for even himself. Not even their beloved ship would probably make it. Brainstorm and Perceptor had tried to do what they could with their science, but there wasn’t enough time to come up with anything solid. “Y/N, I wish it didn’t have to end like this. I wish we had more time to enjoy each other’s company.” He said quietly. His usual happy attitude was gone, replaced with remorse. Rodimus blamed himself, he had chosen to come here and now had the energon and blood of everyone on board on his servos. It was his fault, a constant failure. That was his processor currently, but he had to stay strong for now. For you. You climbed into his lap, which he would respond with cradling his arms around you in a tight embrace, not tight enough to hurt you but enough to limit your movement. “I love you, you know that, right?” He whispered, tears forming in his optics with the impeding doom about to hit. The temperature was only increasing around them, and he could feel it. His cooling fans would do nothing, not even click on since he knew it’d be useless. “How could I forget?”

•Ratchet: The medbay was a little full with the bots that had offlined themselves as their situation had weighed down on them. There was nothing he could do to help them, but their frames had been moved there so wherever they had been, they wouldn’t be disturbed. Currently you were with Ratchet, watching him place the last one down in a comfortable position. Their servos placed over their midsection, folded over each other. So peaceful yet.. so disturbing to see. You were used to the chaos of the medbay by now but this seemed to take a toll on you. The sudden death that lingered in the halls and in the hot air. Ratchet looked up to see you staring at the last bot he had placed down. He moved to your side and gently tapped the bottom of your chin to look up at him, pulling you from your emotionless trance. A gentle distraction. “Y/N, don’t focus on them right now. They chose this.” He said lowly. Right now he lacked the strength to call them cowards and anything of the sort for ending their lives so soon. Then again, it was harsh to say that. He understood their panicked state and impulse to do this. It reminded them of their last days of Cybertron and the horrid war that plagued them. You saw Ratchet’s grim face and nodded gently. Tears were at the edge of your eyes as he outstretched his hand, to which you climbed on. The old medic picked you up ever so gently and held you close to his chassis with both his servos, as if shielding you from the heat, to no avail. Even inside the Lost Light, it was getting hot. Ever so slowly. He brought you to his habsuite, letting you step down onto his berth as he sat on the edge of it. He knew there was no escape from this. Unless they could get under the earth, deep into its crust to avoid the heat. There just wasn’t enough time. “I’m sorry.” The medic said, his optics dimmed slightly. “This shouldn’t have happened. I could have.. done something differently. Anything.” Your eyes scanned over his beat frame, exhausted and his mental state crashing down on him. “Ratchet, we can’t do anything to fix this. I’m just-“ You stopped a moment, feeling a cool tear running down your flushed cheeks. “I’m glad that we spent this time together, every second of it.” Your words calmed him ever so slightly, of which he responded by gently wiping a tear from your face. He could tell your body was slowly exhausting itself as you didn’t have the luxury of cooling fans like his kind did. “I am too.”

• Megatron: “After all these years of war, this is how our lives end. From a supernova. How grand.” Megatron’s voice was low as he stared straight into the light of their demise. The both of you were sat in the command center of the Lost Light, watching the red sky turn lighter and lighter. After several attempts of trying to get the systems back online, it failed. He thought maybe he could try one last attempt to redeem himself and save his crew. However, he should have known his bad luck strike was still ongoing. “Really going out with a bang here.” You said, your voice scratchy after yelling in fear earlier. A crazed bot had tried to kill you, blaster forced into your body to crush you into the ground. But before they could fire, Megatron had thrown him off you. And before he could properly deal with them, they offlined themselves. So he brought you here, after helping you bandage yourself. Even though you denied the offer. Megatron insisted to keep you comfortable, no matter how ‘useless’ it seemed. He didn’t care if it was a waste. The two of you were huddled together on a chair, you sat on his shoulder while the two of you watched out the window. “Y/N, I must apologize for my behavior when we first met. For a clear conscience.” The grey warlord said, his voice lowered. “I was rude and my actions towards you were uncalled for. Being so cold and irrational in any given situation. But now I understand what Prime meant all this time. All life should be treated as equals. No matter how different we may be.” He said, turning his stoic face to you. Having no need to hide his emotion behind a mask. Even though his expression seemed the same as always. “Thanks for apologizing at least, its a great time to let out all those hidden emotions. Clear consciences in a time like this is good.” You said in response, gently tracing a seam in his thick armor. He seemed to grin to himself, making an amused huff. “You know, I haven’t shared all my poetry with you. I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you now.”

Let me know if I should continue this scenario with more bots! Sorry for the sadness qwq

[my-writings-and-musings]

Not sure if you still want to write for old prompts but if so; May I request Rodimus, Brainstorm, and a bot of your choice for the kidnapped s/o defending their bot and giving the kidnapper a tongue lashing? Your writing is so good it seriously brightens my day reading through it all! :D

I never tire of my prompts, lovely anon! Thanks a million and here's the good boys! I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to do for the third bot but I poured my heart and soul into these two, I hope you like them!

Rodimus

·Your panic had never really gone beyond some light anxiety about when you'd get to eat next, but you credited that to the rescue party you knew was coming. Rodimus had bested bad guys far more competent than this loser, so you had few worries about getting out. Truthfully your greatest concern was how unfathomably annoying your captor was proving to be. Between their grandiose personality and their constant taunting over the communication line, you feel as if you're going to go mad. Unfortunately, when the mocking starts to be aimed directly at Rodimus without end, you quickly build to your limit. The gloves come off when your captor crosses the final line and calls your partner "Hot Rod" in an unacceptable jab.

·"Oh for God's sake! It's Rodimus you dolt, not Hot Rod! I know the extra syllable is a little difficult for you, but try to keep up!" Your shout echoes so loudly in the tiny cave that a bit of dust falls from the ceiling. Your captor is quick to try and shut you up, but that doesn't stop you in the slightest, as yelling feels far better than taking any more of their trash. For pete's sake, they stole you for ransom and they're expecting good behavior? Entitlement falls way short of describing what a jerk this bot is, and you let them know it, channeling the insults you know your partner would unleash if they could.

·"You think you scare me? You think you scare anyone?! You're dumb enough to piss off the captain of the Lost Light buddy, you should be afraid! Rodimus sees guys like you as footnotes compared to what he usually deals with!" Quite accustomed to your beloved captain charging in to save the day, you let loose a long list of his accomplishments, proudly defending and boasting at the same time. Your captor can't even get a word in edgewise. With a devilish smirk, you start to go on about all the less public ways Rodimus rules as a partner. His impeccable charm, his smooth wit, and his capacity to perform as a Prime where it really counts... That last bit is kept from vulgarity only due to a none too distant explosion cutting you off.

·Before anything can move, the door quite literally melts before imploding inward as molten metal, revealing Rodimus covered in flame. He moves in a fiery blur, his fist more akin to a meteorite as it collides with your captor to knock them out in a single punch. At your cheering of his name, he comes to your side in a flash, fire dissipating completely after he frees you of your bonds. Moments later the remainder of the crew is pouring in with Magnus scolding Rodimus for rushing ahead. He ignored him completely as he takes you into his arms, optics shining as if he's beholding something more precious than the Matrix could ever be. Though his words are flirty, his tone is tender and brimming with affection as he takes you back to the ship. His lovestruck expression doesn't seem to go away even when he throws a massive party to celebrate your rescue.

·In an incredibly rare moment where his responsibilities pull him away from you, a bot close to him tells you something they think you should know. Rodimus was initially devastated by your kidnapping. Though the entire ship had rallied for your rescue, he'd barely held it together enough to take charge, and hearing the bot mock him had nearly sent him over the edge. Your outburst had, as if by a miracle, revitalized him. Hearing you stick up for him, including your grand list of what you adored about him, had so inspired him that controlling his fire had become easy. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. You believing in him had put into perspective what he was capable of, to the point it lit a fire in the most literal sense of the phrase.

Brainstorm

·Dating a bot brilliant enough to rend time had made you quite accustomed to shenanigans of all kinds. Thus, you were calm when kidnapped, both due to the aforementioned reason as well as your certainty of rescue. However, that calm had proved short lived when your captor proved to be an annoying jerk with a massive inferiority complex. Their ceaseless mockery through the communication channel was like torture the DJD would have found too cruel to condone. You'd been able to stay cool for some time, focusing on keeping the situation calm and looking for weak points your rescuers might exploit, but inevitably you'd been pushed to your limit. The final straw had been your captor having the audacity to mock your partner for being a hopeless inventor who only managed to make things no one needed, and that sent you over the edge.

·"Hopeless?! You call inventing time travel and creating the multiverse hopeless?! This coming from a loser in a cave with the most backwards security system on this side of the galaxy?!" Your outburst had come with a rattling of your chains to emphasize your point, and between your voice and the clanking metal you'd immediately had the full attention of the bad bot. Still enraged, you made a point of detailing every single categorical failure they'd displayed, having learned plenty about judging the quality of technology in Brainstorm's lab. There's more than enough material for you to throw at them with the nightmare of poor maintenance surrounding you. "When was the last time you bothered patching up these turrets anyway?! Hope you're not planning on using these for defense, Brainstorm will have them short circuiting before he's done hacking that door!"

·There's something resembling an attempt at a comeback, but you're a mile ahead before it's even halfway out. To say your beloved bot eclipses this loser's intellect would imply they'd actually register on the same level, and you have to laugh at the absurdity of someone so incompetent daring to come after one of the most brilliant bots in the galaxy, something you let them know in no uncertain terms. The litany of reality warping ways you might be rescued is as long as it is ridiculously plausible. You begin going off on the countless other ways Brainstorm might get around this captive situation, extolling his many talents in weapon design and paying special attention to how brilliantly he thinks outside the box. You're about to get into the details of other areas he's creative in when the lights go out and everything plunges in to darkness.

·Flashes of biolights, small explosions, and shouts of action are all you have to discern some incredible rush of activity. Before you can really figure out what's happening a beautiful pair of yellow optics light up the darkness, and in a split second your chains are broken and you're being lovingly cupped by a pair of careful hands. At the flip of a small device the lights flicker on to reveal a beaten but otherwise fine captor being cuffed, but you ignore that entirely when Brainstorm removes his mask to speak to you. Playfully fussing over your condition, he uncharacteristically kisses your little head in full view of everyone, something he's never done before. In fact, the next few days he's nothing but openly loving and outright showy in his affections, publicly presenting you with a series of fantastic gifts invented to profess his love.

·In a rare moment of solitude, you're unexpectedly taken aside by a bot who says they need to let you know something important. Brainstorm was almost dangerous. He'd already lost one love, and he'd been so intent on not losing another he'd been forced from his lab to prevent him from tearing reality asunder to get to you. He'd been nearly impossible to console or restrain until your voice came through the comm. Hearing you defend him so passionately had calmed and invigorated him all at once, grounding him in reality and giving him the clarity he needed to assist in rescuing you. The device he'd created to extinguish enemy defenses had been put together at a speed that impressed Perceptor. It was thanks to you that he remembered to go slow and take things one step at a time, because just as much as you were worth fighting for, you were worth living for.

[petitelepus]

Yo, LL manages to save their liason from the SG universe, what's the (rescue +) aftermath like? I want to see some angst with the bots as their liason is completely broken and traumatized and quite possibly a little bit insane and won't trust anything anymore.

WARNING: ABUSE, STOCKHOLMS SYNDROME.

"How's it going Brainstorm, Perceptor?" Rodimus asked as the two scientists worked their afts off in an attempt to save you from their evil counterparts.

"Just about done captain!" Brainstorm said while inputting codes into the supercomputer they had prepared for the occasion. The bright orange mech nodded, before looking and scowling at your counter version who had been tied in the strictest straitjacket after their attempt to sabotage the rescue.

"You're all wasting your time!" They shouted before cackling like a fucking drunk hyena. "There is no doubt that Rodimus, my Rodimus threw your little liaison to others to play with. You'll be lucky if liaison will be even able to talk after what others have done to them!"

"Shut up!" Rodimus was having trouble keeping his anger in check. Your evil version had been living with them who knows how long and honestly, every mech and femme in Lost Light felt fooled by your evil side's fake facade that they used to trick the crew.

The only one who saw through them was Whirl and no one believed him because it was Whirl. It took a long conversation with Cyclonus who appeared to be the only one who believed the empurata survivor and together they had tricked your evil side to show their true dark colors.

"Alright, I think we are done!" Brainstorm finally exclaimed and he joined Rodimus and Perceptor at the base of their universal portal gun.

"Are you sure it works?"

"Absolutely. Two of the greatest scientist made it after all." Perceptor nodded and Brainstorm beamed at being called genius but the situation demanded everyone's full attention. Rodimus nodded as he called everyone to come where he was. It didn't take long for the rescue party to get there.

Whirl and Cyclonus had been among the first ones who wanted to save you, followed by Megatron as he felt it was his fault that you had ended into this whole mess. If you hadn't become his guardian then you would never have ended in such a mess back on Earth. Drift was there also since you had been abducted while he was watching after you. He had to come. Ultra Magnus wanted to come, but someone had to look after the spaceship and he was honestly best suited for it at the moment.

Taking in all the mechs ready rescue you, Rodimus picked up your evil twin and nodded to Brainstorm and Perceptor. "Start it up."

The two scientists entered coordinates and the huge machine rumbled as it collected electricity all around itself until it reached its peak and shot out a beam that tore the line between the two universes apart. The Autobots looked at each other and lead by Rodimus they entered one by one into the other evil universe.

"Find them quickly, the longer the portal is open the more it might twist our realms!" Perceptor shouted. Rodimus looked at Megatron and Cyclonus. "You two stay here and watch that no one comes or crosses the universe!"

The two former Decepticons nodded and took their spots around the tear, protecting it the best way they could. Rodimus glanced at Drift and Whirl. "We will stay together since we don't know what we are against here."

"I tell you! Murderers, manipulators, and assholes, but mainly murderers!" The other you yelled and Whirl squinted his only optic at the evil human. "If it was left to me, you would be dead fleshie!"

"Oooh, I'm so scared! Don't you think my Whirl hasn't tried that before?" Other you grinned wickedly. "I can't wait to see what he has done to my better half."

"You little-!"

"Calm yourself Whirl!" Drift placed a hand on the blue mech's shoulder. "We must work together now. Don't let them get under your armor. Don't give them the upper hand."

The flyer glared at other you, but nodded and pulled back as the three of them ventured into the other Lost Light. Everything looked the same except for some occasional dent on the wall or suspicious-looking splat of energon. They had no idea where you could have been.

"Hey?" Drift said your other self and they shot a glare at the swordmech. "What?"

"You can make this easier and tell us where our liaison could be."

Your other half grinned maliciously. "Oh, there are way too many places! They could be a wet splatter of blood on a firing range where Deadlock likes to shoot anything that moves and has a heartbeat."

"Rung could have taken a liking to them, but where there is Rung there is Whirl close by. If not, he might have taken doctor's privileges to practice some lobotomy perhaps?"

"The best thing to them maybe if Tailgate got his hands on them first. He likes humans, has had a TON of them as pets. You know when you see something so cute you wanna squeeze the life out of it? Petite things we humans are, aren't we?"

"Fragger is enjoying this!" Whirl shouted in fury, but then they all heard something. Clapping. The three Autobots quickly looked at the source of the noise and saw a dark blue mech at the end of the hall, clapping his hands together as he emerged from the darkness.

"My, I see that you got yourself a nasty case of a disobeying human there."

"Rung?"

"Eyebrows?"

"No one has called me that and made the same mistake twice." The other Rung smiled and looked at the other you.

"Liason." He smiled, "My how I have dreamed of seeing you tied like that."

"Psych," Your evil version nodded towards evil Rung, but they didn't stop there. "And psycho."

Suddenly another mech emerged from the darkness, this one red and-! Empurata survivor. Whirl's only optic widened as he took in his counterpart. The red mech glared back at his blue version and tension rose. Rodimus cleared his intake to get the bad guys' attention and he lifted other you for them to see.

"Listen, we just want our liaison back and you can have yours back." The orange Autobot said and the blue Rung tilted his head. "Really now? Give us a reason to switch."

"Well... This one is yours and you have ours?"

"Ah, you sound so juvenile captain Rodimus. Much like ours."

"Enough, where is our friend?" Drift stepped up and Rung smiled as he took a step aside and let red Whirld open his cockpit. The three good Autobots were shocked to see you there, sitting inside the evil mech's chest, unconscious but otherwise unharmed. There was a click and Whirl suddenly pulled his gun out before anyone could stop him and pointed them at the evil Rung and Whirl.

"Hand them over or I'll paint the walls with your energon!" The flyer shouted. Rung chuckled and gently picked your unconscious body from his partner's cockpit. "You wouldn't shoot us when we have your precious human on my arms?"

"Try me."

"Whirl, no!" Rodimus and Drift shouted and your evil twin laughed, "Yes, shoot them!"

The blue Autobot growled but in the end, he lowered his weapons. "Just... Give them back."

"Hah! You're just as stupid as you look!" The evil you laughed wickedly, "Like Hell these bastards would-!"

"You have a deal." Rung suddenly said and everyone froze as he picked you up. Your evil counterpart turned their wide gaze into their Rung. "What the fuck!? You're going to give up so easily!?"

The mechs ignored you as Rung approached the good Autobots and held you for them. "Take them. We want what's ours."

"You can't be serious!" Evil you shouted as they were handed to their own Rung. They glared at the psychiatrist and grinned viciously. "You will never break me...!"

The blue bot smiled maliciously right back at them. "Darling, you should know that I enjoy challenges." He glanced at your rescue party and smiled. "It was a pleasure working with you. Give my best regards to my counterpart. I'm sure he will enjoy his time with your liaison."

And just like that, the evil Autobots turned and took their leave, while your counterpart kept insults coming on everyone. Rodimus looked at you in his hands. You looked so weak and vulnerable, his spark ached. Whirl felt the same way, but he would never tell that.

"Roddy, we have to go now!" Drift pulled both bots out of their pity party and they all quickly returned to the portal, only to be surprised by the number of unconscious mechs lying around in Megatron's and Cyclonus' pedes.

"We got company so we took care of them," Megatron said and it was enough for them all. They all went through the portal back to your universe and as soon as they made it out, Perceptor shut the gap between your worlds. As soon as they were safe, Rodimus transformed and drove as fast as he could to the medbay where Ratchet was waiting for them.

"Please, heal them!" The captain cried and Ratchet took your body into his hands and laid you on the surgeon's table. He carefully took in your vitals and came to the conclusion that you were perfectly healthy. Some bumps and bruises, but no broken bones or serious like that.  At least with your body.

"I don't see anything wrong with them. No matter what happened, they kept our human in good shape." Ratchet said and Rodimus sighed in relief. The sensation was short-lived as you started to come by. Rodimus was beaming happily as he watched your pretty eyes flutter open and take in the surroundings.

"Wh- where...?" You stuttered weakly as your eyes fluttered open and you looked around but when your eyes fell on Ratchet and you suddenly screamed bloody murder.

"I'm sorry Ratchet, I'm sorry!" You cried in horror and quickly twisted your body so you were kneeling before the medic and to everyone's horror you started to bang your forehead against the hard solid metal bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I don't know what came to me! I didn't mean to offend you!"

"H- hey, stop!" Rodimus shouted grabbing you before you could do any damage but you had managed to cut your forehead as blood dripped down your face. The moment your eyes landed on Rodimus and registered what you were sawing it was like a switch was clicked in your head.

"R- Rodimus!" You cried out before you suddenly hiccupped and your body went limp before suddenly jolting up like you had gotten an electric shock. "P- please captain...! Let me go...!" You whimpered like you were afraid for your life. Speechless Rodimus glanced at the medic and Ratchet nodded, already comming to Rung to quickly come to medbay.

"I'm here!" The orange mech exclaimed as he stepped inside the medbay and your eyes locked together. Rung's optics widened behind his glasses and you smiled coyly at him.

"Rung...! My beloved, where were you hiding all this time? Why did you leave me alone?" You looked at Rung like he was your own personal universe and this sent alarm bells ringing in the mech's head. You were friends but you never talked like that to anyone. You attempted to jump to him but Rodimus quickly caught you before you could break anything.

"How long have they acted like this?" The psychiatrist asked and Rodimus placed you into Rung's hands. "It was like they were a completely different person!"

The orange mech blinked at you as you winked at him. "Will we have fun with Whirl again, master Rung?"

Rung swallowed hard as he looked at you and smiled lightly. "It's okay, I'll take you to our room and change a couple of words with captains." He said and just like the switch was turned in you, you suddenly turned fearfully of everyone surrounding you. "Pl- please no! R- Rung, no, please, don't leave me alone!"

The psychiatrist tried to give you to someone else even for a second but the moment he tried that, you turned defensive, kicking and sending everything else flying instead of letting them touch you.

Not seeing any better way out of their situations, you were locked into your old habsuite while Rodius, Megatron, and Ultra Magnus went to Rung's private meeting.

"You won't like what I have to tell you." The orange mech warned and Rodimus scowled. "So just tell us! That's wrong in them!?"

"Well, captain... The liaison was exposed to extreme situations that their mind simply couldn't handle on their own so they resorted to finding shelter from my and Whirl's alternative universe versions. By the way she reacted, I think she was manipulated to believe those two sought only their best interest, making them ignore all the red flags and learning to appeal to other Rung's and Whirl's liking."

"So...? They fell for your twins?" Rodimus asked.

"It's called Stockholm Syndrome back in Earth. It means that the victim developed feelings like loyalty, sympathy or even love towards their captor." Rung explained and Megatron groaned. "I'm familiar with those cases."

"You had someone fall for you?!" Rodimus gasped and the grey mech gave them a small nod. "Not for me per se, but some war prisoners would switch after learning the truth of the Decepticon cause."

"How do we treat them Rung?" Ultra Magnus asked, "You're the only one with so much knowledge of this."

"I'm afraid there isn't some miracle pill that could heal them." Rung shook his head and corrected his glasses. "Therapy sessions as much as I can offer and light medication incase they developed a depression or anxiety. I also must treat them for post-traumatic stress disorder that they probably suffered from other evil counterparts' treatment."

The captains and Magnus shared a look and they all nodded, agreeing with their decision. Megatron looked at Rung and nodded. "Do whatever you can Rung."

[libermachinae]

Lost Light/Rodimus

Notes: No, I don’t mean the crew. Unedited bc I’ve already spent way more time on this crack fic than I meant to. Rated G, no warnings apply, 2K.

---

It wasn’t Brainstorm’s fault, entirely.

“How the hell did you make a metrotitan spark?”

Just mostly.

“Well, it’s actually an extremely complicated, delicate, precise procedure,” Brainstorm said as they ran for their lives through shifting, narrowing corridors, Rodimus’ engine gunning to keep up with the jet. “It’s something other scientists have been trying to crack since before the war started, but between the exact measurements of the photonic supercrystal and the pattern of coding charges, no one else ever managed to—”

“Okay, forget how!” Rodimus shouted. “I don’t care about how! Or why! Or even at what point you decided to make a massive t-cog to go with it—”

“Actually, Perceptor cracked that one.”

“—or how you got it past Riptide and the rest of security! I don’t care!” A wall appeared front of them; Rodimus swerved around it while Brainstorm pulled into a neat roll. A wingtip brushed Rodimus’ roof. “Assuming we survive this any other way than First Aid scraping our pancaked frames off a random corridor wall, you’re going to tell the whole story to Megatron, and he can use all the practice he’s had with me to tell you exactly how terrible an idea this was.”

“Pancaked?”

“Earth term. Watch out!”

The hallway to the shuttle bay disappeared behind two shifting plates, and Rodimus had just enough time to brake and avoid being crushed. Brainstorm pulled up and transformed, landing at Rodimus’ side.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” he said.

“No kidding?” Rodimus angled his mirrors to look around, but every glance just revealed fewer directions to escape to. “We’re trapped.”

“Not that,” Brainstorm said. “We’re in the abdomen.”

“Belly of the ship, sure.”

“In root mode, the Lost Light’s power core is situated in the lower decks, under multiple layers of plating and insulation to keep the heat from frying everyone around it.” Brainstorm traced a small circle on the plating just underneath his cockpit, then drew it up, toward his chest. “When Perceptor was designing the transformation sequence, though, we couldn’t quite work out how to transport the core with all its extra plating. So, we just, hm, put a pin in it.”

Rodimus stared.

“So, what you’re saying is—”

Brainstorm pointed to the ceiling.

“The power core is one level above us right now. As soon as the transformation sequence is completed, it’s going to come online. The Lost Light’s designed to handle that kind of output, but not standard Cybertronians.”

“So, right now, this moment, we’re standing in the smelter, waiting for it to come on.”

“More like in front of the smelter after the blast doors have malfunctioned, but yeah.”

“Okay!” Rodimus revved his engine. “Well, that’s no good! We’re getting out of here.” He glanced around again. The walls were thick, but there had to be a weakness somewhere. “Don’t you have a drill gun? Or a drill you reformatted into a gun that can still be used as a drill?”

“I have a regular gun.”

“You do not.”

“I do!” Brainstorm insisted, pulling the standard issue pistol from subspace. “I was just about to see if I could do something about the problem of a finite ammo capacity (spoiler, I could’ve) when Light’s t-cog started spinning. I have others on me, but nothing that’s gotten the Perceptor stamp yet.”

“Everything else you’ve got will kill us if we fire it?”

“Might,” Brainstorm corrected, “they might kill you. Percy just hasn’t had time to test them yet.”

“Okay, fine.” Rodimus glanced around once more, optics falling on one feature he’d thus far overlooked. “You know what? We can work with this.”

  It’s a simple fact that if you’re desperate to have floor-to-ceiling windows along the vehicle-accessible corridors of your miles-wide spaceship, they’re going to need to be reinforced. Heavily. A full round of shots fired at point-blank from a non-infinite pistol might be enough to get a crack in it, but that’s about it.

Of course, if you then ram that crack with a Matrix-armored sports car dropped from the undercarriage of a speeding jet, you might get somewhere.

Rodimus hit the window bumper-first, vibrations from the impact traveling in both directions throughout his frame. Whatever he was feeling, though, the window was having a much worse time: the crack stretched and exploded, shards of glass whipping out into the empty density of space. Rodimus went with them, and for a brief second he feared he would never stop going, before strong arms and the sound of thrusters secured him.

::We’re alive!:: Brainstorm’s comm crackled to life in his audial. ::And assuming at least a couple people listened to Minimus’ instructions, we should be looking at a good—oh frag.::

::What? How bad is it?:: Rodimus tried to angle his mirrors, but two teal wings blocked his view.

::It’s fine! Don’t worry!::

::That’s my ship, Brainstorm, of course I’m going to worry!::

::It’s alright, Rodimus.::

::Who was—::

A white hand appeared in front of them, large enough that Rodimus could have done donuts on its palm, large enough to punch a moon clear through. Brainstorm’s thrusters were straining to slow them down while Rodimus’ emergency brake slammed on, but momentum seemed committed to mashing them like a reverse rustbug.

The hand shifted, flipping over so the palm was underneath Rodimus, scooping up until his tires were just skidding across the metal surface. Forgetting to release his brake, his swerved before he came to a stop, swinging around and taking in the full view of his ship as, with a final ripple, her plating shifted into place.

She glowed. From the fuel rods around the corona of her helm and the winding lanes of windows around her arms, legs, and sides, light streamed from her, but not so much that she hurt to look at. Her optic band was a solid magenta and, Rodimus suspected, unseeing, but even that gave off a light that drew the eye, even as Rodimus felt the increased pressure of the hand lifting them up. In their ascent, they passed her chestpiece, the bow of the ship, and through the viewscreen Rodimus saw a decent portion of his crew, staring back out at him.

They came to a halt in front of her faceplate, and from this distance Rodimus could see the wavering patterns of optical lights, perhaps attempting to generate an expression. Ratchet would demand a look at Perceptor’s coding, he thought, a moment before the Lost Light’s voice returned.

::Hello, Rodimus, Brainstorm.::

::You gave her a comm suite?:: Rodimus asked, glancing at Brainstorm.

::Didn’t you check the ident?:: Brainstorm returned. ::She’s using the communications hub.::

::Oh.:: He glanced at her again. ::Can you access all of our major systems like that?::

::Yes.::

::Cool. Neat.:: An independent Cybertronian with the ability to quantum jump. And they’d been doing so well staying off the bad side of this reality’s Galactic Council.

::Do you have a name?:: he asked.

The optic lights wavered, shifting without meaning.

::Of course,:: she said. ::Drift named me Lost Light.::

Rodimus spluttered.

::How do you know that?::

::I have complete access to all in-network records,:: she said. ::My ‘memories’ extend as far back as my registration five million years ago, though they become more comprehensive within the last several decades, starting with the commencement of your quest.::

::Anything anyone ever dispersed via in-house networks, saved to a private console, or was automatically logged by the systems is up for grabs,:: Brainstorm said. ::Makes introductions pretty simple, at least.::

::Sounds like a fancy way of saying she’s got the worst possible first impression of everyone, but sure, that’s an optimistic way of looking at it.:: Brainstorm had climbed off him, so he transformed and took two steps forward. ::I’m Rodimus, your co-captain. Though, you already seem to know that.::

::Yes. I know all of you.:: For a moment, Rodimus thought they were moving again, but it was the large helm tilting forward. ::Thank you, by the way, Brainstorm. Though I unfortunately agree with Minimus Ambus’ preliminary assessment of your actions, I do appreciate this opportunity to be alive.::

::Like creator, like creation, I guess!::

::Wait, you talked with Minimus?:: Rodimus asked.

::Of course. I’m speaking to everyone right now,:: Lost Light said. ::I’ve been looking forward to this.::

::Wow. You’re either going to be Swerve and Misfire’s missing trinemate, or their biggest competition.::

::I do not find either of those options appealing.::

::Oh, yeah, that’s fine!:: He waved his hands. ::Just a joke. You can do whatever you want, now, you’re your own bot. Well, within reason, I guess. We might need to make another new officer position for you, and then—::

::I will continue to perform my duties, Rodimus. You have no need to worry in that regard.::

::Oh, good.:: Rodimus’ spoiler sagged and a few bubbles of trapped air escape his vents. Brainstorm’s scheme hadn’t dehomed them, at least.

::If you wouldn’t mind hearing it, I do have a request.::

Rodimus’ spoiler twitched back up.

::Sure!:: he said. ::After everything we’ve put you through, we owe you, huh?::

::I would prefer you not consider it that way,:: she said. The connection crystalized and strengthened into a private transfer as Lost Light cleaved Brainstorm into his own channel. ::After reviewing the records, I find I admire you, Rodimus.::

He stared.

::Oh?::

::Despite what you call a poor first impression, I have observed a crew that cares for each other and looks after its most vulnerable, with you as the spark that inspires such communal behavior. You act for the good of others, you encourage selflessness and self-improvement. Does that sound correct?::

There was nothing to hide behind on the palm of her hand. That observation could not kill Rodimus’ instinct to flee.

::I, uh. I don’t know?::

A flicker around the optic band again.

::Oh. My apologies. I have only just started to engage in pattern recognition, and it is possible my assessment is—::

::It’s fine!:: Rodimus assured. ::Sorry, you did fine. Um, yeah, I guess you could say all those things about me. Not everyone would, but if that’s what the logs are telling you, you should trust your instincts. Maybe just like, make sure to update them with your own observations?::

::Acknowledged.:: There was a pause, and Rodimus imagined she was sorting the suggestion among her priority trees. ::I will maintain my assessments as an ongoing process. However, if I am utilizing my initial understanding of each crew member as a basis to form a more informed conception of their character, then it is logical to assume that there must be some element of validity to my initial evaluations, correct?::

::Uh, sure?::

::Excellent.:: Her whole visor brightened, a straightforward positive that must have been easier for her programming to calculate than the emotions it had been trying to convey before. ::Then it is not unreasonable for me to hold to my initial conviction that I admire you, Rodimus. If you have time, I would like to get to know you better.::

::Huh. Uh.:: He hated to make assumptions, but the way her visor sparkled seemed more coordinated now. ::Can you give me one moment?::

::Of course.::

He hopped into a channel so well worn it felt like sinking into his own thoughts.

::Rodimus? Are you okay?::

::I’m fine, Drift,:: he said. ::Just, uh, need some advice.::

::Just advice? Not a rescue? Rewind and Perceptor managed to map out a way down to the shuttle bay, if you need an out.::

::No, no,:: he insisted. ::I’m just… I really don’t want to assume anything, but I think it’s possible my ship just asked me out?::

::Oh, yeah.::

::Oh, yeah?::

::I mean, she did,:: Drift said. ::Before you and Brainstorm broke free, she commed everyone, introduced herself, told them her favorite thing she knew about them, then asked about you.::

::Do I… want to know what she asked about?::

::Depended on the person. Swerve got interrogated about whether you’re available.::

::Swerve?::

::The Lost Light Insider pegged him for a rumor monger and she ran with it.::

::Cool. Great.::

::Hey. Really, you okay up there? Tailgate’s halfway through the vents, we can come get you, if you need.::

Rodimus pointed his gaze down to the deck, though he was too far away to see anyone individually. It was possible the ship’s exterior cameras were still streaming to the command screens, in which case Drift would undoubtedly catch his disapproval.

::Please make sure Tailgate doesn’t get squished, I don’t need Cyclonus seeking vengeance against our ship.::

::Sure. But seriously, Rodimus, are you okay?::

Rodimus spun his wheels with a flick.

::I’m fine. I just… isn’t this, I don’t know, kind of taking advantage?::

::I mean, she asked you, and—wait, are you interested?::

His engine heated up and Rodimus started to pace.

::I don’t know! Maybe?::

::Aw, Rodimus!:: He could imagine Drift’s face: goofy smile, softly dimmed optics. ::Hang on, I’m patching Ratchet in.::

::No, hang on, you don’t have to—::

::You’re saying yes?:: Ratchet demanded as the new connection crackled through.

::I don’t know,:: Rodimus insisted. ::I could? She’s attractive. And she knows a lot about me and hasn’t decided I’m worthless slag.::

::Rodimus,:: Drift chided.

::Hey, look, I’m not saying that about myself,:: he countered. ::Just that it’s a conclusion she could have come to, but didn’t. And I guess I kind of like that?:: He shrugged. ::I wouldn’t mind getting to know her. First new Cybertronian we’ll meet for a long time, you know?::

::Sure,:: Ratchet said. ::Follow her lead, but be up front about your expectations.::

::Both of you will have bots looking out for you,:: Drift promised. ::Seems like she and Nautica are already hitting it off pretty well.::

::Alright.:: Rodimus smiled. ::Okay, thanks guys. I think I can handle it from here.::

::Sure you can,:: Drift said.

Rodimus cut the call and switched back to Lost Light’s channel. Brainstorm was wandering around behind him, still engaged in his own animated conversation with his creation.

::Still with me?:: he asked.

::Of course.::

::Great,:: he said, offering her a smile and a flicker of his headlights. ::So, yeah, I’m down to spend more time together.:: He leaned down until he was sitting, crosslegged, on her open palm, brushing the smooth metal with his own hand. ::You can tell me all about what it was like that time we were getting chased by space pirates.::

::I look forward to it,:: she said. The platform of her hand drifted closer, until Rodimus could have reached out and brushed his fingertips against his facemask. He could have felt afraid, then, but he didn’t. Instead, he felt a warm light in his spark as he regarded Light, the familiarity and comfort that came with meeting an old friend face to face for the first time.

[writeyouin]

Rodimus X Techbug – Guardian Prime (COMMISSION)

Description – When a new Autobot joins the Lost Light, Rodimus seeks to become their mentor. However, when he learns of Techbug’s difficult past, he might find the task harder than he expected.

A/N – Hey @ask-tf-techbug​, I hope this is what you had in mind. If you want anything editing, just say the word and I’ll do it ASAP. In the meantime, thank you very much for the commission.

WARNINGS – Smut. NSFW. Mentions of abuse.

RATING – M

WORD COUNT – 2173

Rodimus walked with a spring in his step, eager to meet Techbug, the newest recruit to the Lost Light. Ultra Magnus had warned Rodimus of Techbug’s past. Originally an Autobot who had been captured at the start of the war, he had been forced into the Decepticon ranks. Techbug had been controlled through abuse, manipulation, and torture; it had turned him into one of the Decepticons’ most ruthless killers, Silentdeath. Now that the war was over and Techbug was free to start his life anew. He had been sent to the Lost Light to receive therapy from Rung, who specialised in treating PTSD, among other things.

Although Rodimus knew of the infamous Silentdeath, it didn’t taint his opinion of Techbug; after all, Drift had once been a Decepticon, and he’d managed to turn his life around. With the right mentor, Techbug would be just fine, and Rodimus was determined to be that mentor, if only to prove to Ultra Magnus that he could be responsible when he wanted to be; besides, how hard could it really be, being a mentor?

Finally, Rodimus reached Techbug’s new hab-suite, whereupon he rapped a playful tune on the door.

“Hey Techbug,” Rodimus greeted with a wink once the door was opened, “I’m Rodimus, the co-captain of the Lost Light. Nice to meet ya.”

Rodimus didn’t let his surprise at Techbug’s appearance show. He wasn’t small enough to be a mini-bot, yet he couldn’t have been taller that fifteen feet, only coming up to Rodimus’ chassis. He also had a similar appearance to Earthen cats, with a white tipped tail that sharply contrasted his orange colour scheme, and cat audials to match; it was rare to find bots that were shaped after organic creatures. Moreover, Rodimus couldn’t help feeling that Techbug was slender, more like a femme than a mech. To be perfectly candid, Rodimus found Techbug cute.

“Hi…” He whispered quietly in response, unsure of what to say since he didn’t know Rodimus; what he would give to be more comfortable with strangers like most other bots were.

“So,” Rodimus beamed, ignoring the tension. “You want a tour of my ship? It’ll help you get more acquainted.”

Techbug gave a small nod and left his hab-suite, following closely behind Rodimus, who slipped easily into the role of charismatic tour-guide.

They were about three-quarters of the way through the tour when something Rodimus said piqued Techbug’s interest.

“This is one of three labs that we have aboard the ship. As you can see, uh- Techbug?” Rodimus looked behind him, sure that the bot had been there a minute ago.

“Look at this, it’s all brand new,” Techbug marvelled, zooming around the lab. “Is that a GR-91 Centrifuge? I haven’t seen one in real life before. The Cons’ never let me into their labs and they only had old ones anyway. Do you know how fast this could separate particles? It could- Uh… I mean… Sorry for getting so over-excited… I’ll- I’ll be quiet now.”

Rodimus grinned cockily, “Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s cool to see you so excited. You like this lab? Then take it. Nobody else uses it anyway. Brainstorm and Perceptor each have one, so you may as well get this one if you want it.”

“Primus,” Techbug’s tail piece twitched in anticipation, “All of this for me, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.”

‘Oh, but it is,’ Silentdeath, Techbug’s alternate personality growled maliciously inside his processor. ‘It’s a very big deal, right Techie? What have you done to deserve this? Nothing! You’ve done nothing for this, betrayer.’

“Be quiet,” Techbug hissed.

“What was that?” Rodimus asked, having missed Techbug’s warning.

‘Ooh, he’s listening to our private conversation. We don’t want that now, do we. You should stare him down. One look from our outlier ability and the only time he’ll speak is with Primus in the Afterspark.’

“Stop,” Techbug whispered.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Rodimus placed a soothing hand on Techbug’s shoulder-plate. “Med-bay isn’t far from here, I could take you to see Ratchet.”

‘HE WANTS TO TAKE YOU TO MED-BAY! You remember what happens in med-bay, right? They’ll recode you again, and they’ll make sure it hurts. I can’t wait to hear your pathetic screams when they tear you apart and put you back together again. Such sweet agony.’

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Techbug pushed Rodimus, making him stumble backwards.

Before Rodimus could protest, Techbug fixed him with a hard glare, feeling his outlier ability rising up from within, burning quickly through his already low energon supply. With the ability to freeze or kill an enemy with a look, Techbug had been one of the Decepticons’ best weapons. With a full fuel tank, he could have frozen up to three mechs, as it was however, Techbug only managed to freeze Rodimus in time before a warning flashed on his visor: ENERGON LEVEL CRITICAL. SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL ENGAGED.

Techbug passed out and Rodimus was stuck, aware of everything yet unable to help. Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for Rodimus to be released from the effects of the outlier ability, allowing him to move freely once again.

He vented the excess air from his systems, eyeing up Techbug tiredly, “Something tells me that you’re going to be a bit of a handful… I’m really glad you left your swords back at the hab-suite.”

“I’m sorry,” Techbug murmured, unable to look Rodimus in the optics. The two were in the med-bay, where Rodimus had carried him after his energon burnout. “I didn’t mean to freeze you up like that… I was- He made me do it.”

“He? You mean Silentdeath?” Rodimus asked, feeling sorry for yet another bot whose mentality had been damaged in the war.

Techbug looked uncomfortable at the mention of his Decepticon name.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. We’ve all made mistakes, y’know, except for me, ‘cos Primus broke the mould, I was far too perfect even for him.”

Techbug snickered and Rodimus shot imaginary finger guns at him, “And the bot does know how to laugh. Good for you buddy. Anyway, is there anything you wanna do next? I’m okay staying here for a while if you want, but now that you’re energised, I was thinking we could do something fun. What do you say?”

Going against his social anxiety, Techbug nodded, “Something fun sounds good, Captain.”

After a few weeks aboard the Lost Light, Techbug started to come out of his shell. Silentdeath was quieter than he had ever been before. Techbug hadn’t used his outlier ability since he’d frozen Rodimus. With Rung’s help during therapy, he was even confronting some of his worst memories which he had always shut away in an attempt to forget; it wasn’t easy, and it usually left Techbug feeling a little worse for wear, but in the long run, he knew it would be helpful. Best of all, Techbug had even been making friends among the crew. He still gravitated towards Rodimus, but who wouldn’t? Rodimus was charming, funny, handsome, had a great aft-

Techbug blushed, snapping his eyes away from Rodimus’ aft which he had blatantly been staring at as Rodimus went to buy the next round of high-grade energon for them.

“Seems like you have a little crush,” Dogfight smirked, taking a seat next to Techbug and wrapping his arm chummily around him. “The name’s Dogfight.”

“T-Techbug,” Techbug whispered his name quietly, going ridged at Dogfight’s uninvited touch.

“Yeah. I know all about you. Been watching you for a while. You’ve got a few admirers yourself, by the way. I should know, I’m one of them. That’s actually why I’m here. I was thinking that maybe you could ditch Hot-Wheels over there,” He gestured to Rodimus. “-and come spend some time with me. Maybe even see where the night leads, if you catch my drift.”

Dogfight stroked the inside of Techbug’s thighs sensuously, leading his way up to his interface panel. Supressed memories of Techbug’s past surfaced, hitting him like a freight train. He remembered how the Decepticons had used him for sex. They had called him names, debased him, forced their way into his interface panel, made him their slave in the berth as well as away from it. Techbug felt like he might purge his tanks if he didn’t escape Dogfight’s touch.

Once again, he concentrated on his outlier ability, though this time he was in full control of it as he froze Dogfight in place and extricated himself from his hold. On a full energon supply, Techbug was not weakened by the use of his outlier, however it did not stop him from feeling nauseous as he ran back to his hab-suite, trying desperately to forgot Dogfight’s unwanted advance.

As soon as Rodimus saw Dogfight frozen in space where Techbug had once been, he abandoned the high-grade energon he’d just bought. He rushed out of Swerve’s and immediately transformed, driving speedily towards Techbug’s hab-suite.

“Techbug,” Rodimus called, banging on the door, worried that he might be too late to stop one of Techbug’s episodes. “It’s me, Rodimus. Are you in there?”

As he was left waiting, Rodimus seriously considered using his override code to unlock the door, but before he could do so, Techbug opened it, wiping coolant from his optics.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rodimus. You should just go, I’ll be alright.”

“You’re clearly not fine. What happened back there? I just looked up and you were gone. You should at least talk about whatever it is. Was it something to do with Dogfight? Did you have another accident? Was it Silentdeath again?” Rodimus rushed through the list of possibilities, speaking faster with each question.

Finally, Techbug relented and let Rodimus in, if only to stop the persistent questions.

“I- I just- I got spooked and I couldn’t be there anymore. I only wanted to be with you tonight anyway.”

“Me?” Rodimus pointed dumbly at himself. “Why? Were you feeling shy or something?”

Feeling simultaneously vulnerable, frustrated, and like he needed some attention, Techbug threw his arms around Rodimus’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Thankfully, Rodimus didn’t question the action as he returned the kiss, pressing his mouth hungrily against Techbug’s as if they couldn’t get close enough.

Up till now Rodimus had ignored any lingering romantic ideas of Techbug, worried that by being a mentor, he would only pressure his ward. Since Techbug had initiated the kiss however, Rodimus saw no reason to reject the advance.

Rodimus yelped as Techbug’s nimble fingers tugged at his neck cables. He broke off the kiss, staring uncertainly at Techbug. “Are you sure?” He asked, alluding to the prospect of interfacing.

“Yes,” Techbug vented air out of his vents eagerly. He had never interfaced because he wanted to before, it was always because he had to; this was new and exciting and he could already feel his spike straining to be free of his interface panel.

Rodimus reached tentatively for Techbug’s aft, massaging it gently as he made his way to the berth, falling against it rather than laying on top of it. Techbug’s interface panel slid open, his spike rubbing against Rodimus’ inner thigh.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” Rodimus joked.

Techbug’s face-plates flushed red and his cat-like tail lashed impatiently from side to side, “I want to see yours too. I want to ride you like a hover-bike.”

Rodimus’ engines revved, “Looks like you already found the ignition.” He lifted Techbug up, letting him wrap his legs around his waist. “Now all that’s left is to get on.”

He inserted his spike into Techbug’s valve, moaning at how good it felt. Although he had planned to take it slow for their first time, Rodimus was surprised as Techbug forced himself down on Rodimus’ spike.

“I’m not that delicate,” Techbug whispered huskily.

Taking the hint, Rodimus gripped Techbug’s hips and pulled him onto the berth, so that Techbug was on top; most bots assumed that Rodimus liked to be on top but in truth he found it nice to be submissive on occasion.

Techbug began gyrating on Rodimus’ spike, growling with lust every time it pressed against his anterior node. He was desperate. He needed this attention. He basked in the warmth of Rodimus’ presence. Rodimus however, sought to toy with Techbug, reaching low to rub at his spike.

Techbug bit his lip to keep from crying out as Rodimus jacked him off. It wasn’t long before tips of transfluid beaded the top of Techbug’s spike.

“Delicious,” Rodimus purred, looking Techbug in the optics as he gathered the trans-fluid off his spike and licked it off his servo.

“Primus!” Techbug squeaked, feeling his overload building up. “I- I-” Techbug never got to finish his sentiment as Rodimus overloaded with a loud moan, followed closely by him.

He was going to tell Rodimus that he loved him, but at that moment, the words didn’t matter, and by the look on Rodimus’ face, he thought that Rodimus might know already anyway.

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[transformer-imagines]

Happy Together

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

Sludge (G1) x Bot!Reader (sfw)

2672 Words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could’ve taken care of it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi! Room here to sit?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

“Wait, what’s fishing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Then let’s be happy together.”

 BONUS:

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

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Lemon Shots

Brainstorm and a few others decide it’s a fun idea to try flaming transfluid shots... Perceptor disapproves...

content: alcohol, handjob, cum eating, fire

“I can’t believe I’m letting this happen in my bar…” Swerve covers his heated face but leaves gaps between his fingers so he can watch everything that’s currently going down.

Trailcutter pants as Brainstorm’s hand works his spike, fingers curling to play between the ridges of his spike and the expressive yellow biolights that are flashing wildly. A bead of transfluid escapes his slit and Brainstorm dips his helm down to lap it up with a slow lick of his glossa, his optics flashing with excitement. Trailcutter grips the edge of the bar until the metal creaks under his fingers, trying not to be too loud even though he knows practically everyone’s optics are on him. Brainstorm squeezes the base of Trailcutter’s spike and he can’t keep the soft cry from escaping his intake.

“Give it to me all in one go, yeah?” Brainstorm urges with delight edging his breathy voice, clearly no less turned on by this than Trailcutter.

Trailcutter nods frantically, not trusting himself not to just moan anything he would or could say to that and shuts his optics as Brainstorm’s grip becomes tighter and movements faster. Brainstorm takes the head of Trailcutter’s spike into his mouth and sucks hard, pulling back slowly as he continues to stroke Trailcutter’s spike. Trailcutter’s optics snap back open to watch as Brainstorm’s lips slide off his spike, the faintest part of it visible through the gaps in Brainstorm’s cheeks before he pulls off with a pop. With a soft grunt, Trailcutter overloads and Brainstorm is there ready with a glass to catch all but the few drops that manage to land on his face, stroking Trailcutter through his overload until he collapses back, spent. As Trailcutter pants while slumped back onto the bar, cooling down after his overload, Brainstorm pops up back onto his pedes to accept a cloth from First Aid to wipe off the transfluid on his face and to set the glass full of bright pink transfluid on the bar in front of Swerve. Swerve stares at the viscous fluid with a bit of trepidation but prepares the cocktail anyway, pouring the dangerous-looking green engex into shot glasses. Then, he hesitates to add the final component.

Seeing this, Brainstorm sighs and picks up the glass and swirls around the transfluid casually while saying, “Come on, Swerve, why the cold pedes? It’d be a waste to not use this transfluid that Trailcutter so kindly offered us. You don’t have to drink any yourself, you know but there are those of us eager to try it.”

Off to the side, Trailcutter finishes tucking in his spike and looks away with no small amount of embarrassment and coughs awkwardly. Swerve’s optics flicker between Trailcutter and the ominous glass before him to settle on the glass before taking it from Brainstorm’s precarious hold. Rodimus stifles a snicker on one side as he patiently watches the entire scene go down. With care, Swerve pours small measures of the transfluid over a bar spoon into the five shots and sets aside the glass that still holds a reasonable amount of transfluid. Then, with a practiced hand, he sets each shot ablaze. After waiting just a moment to let it burn, Brainstorm picks up a shot to blow it out and down the engex in one go, savoring the salty-sweet tang of the engex mixed with the familiar burn of triple-filtered. First Aid is the next to try it and to Trailcutter’s great dismay, makes a show of it by licking his lips afterward and even winking at Trailcutter. More to get over with it than anything, Trailcutter takes his and downs it quickly, so quickly he coughs at the burn of the engex. Swerve bites his lip as he lifts the glass hesitantly and nervously blows out the flame before also downing it in one go before looking away with his face bright with shame mixed with other feelings that are vibrant in his field. Without hesitation, Rodimus lifts the glass pours the shot, still burning bright into his mouth and holds it there for a few moments before swallowing it down. He opens his mouth to let the built-up smoke escape past his lips in gentle curls then smirks at their dumbstruck expressions.

A tap on Brainstorm’s shoulder brings his attention away from the scene and his smile falters somewhat when faced with the abrasive, cold stare that has been practically perfected by his lab partner. Perceptor’s unimpressed expression almost dampens Brainstorm’s good mood but with effort and a significant amount of practice, he manages to not even look phased.

“Oh, hey, Percy,” Brainstorm greets him with glee, “Come to join in on the fun?”

“How in any way is this something you consider to be appropriate behavior? And in public of all places?” Perceptor snaps and Brainstorm has to suppress the urge to roll his optics.

Rodimus steps in and tries to assuage Perceptor’s feelings with a friendly, “Come on, Percy. We were just-”

He’s cut off by Perceptor’s cold gaze being shot towards him, so, Rodimus decides to put his hands up and back out of the situation altogether. Brainstorm does appreciate the effort though and with First Aid suggesting other “cocktails” to Trailcutter who stays very quiet and Swerve who is very pointedly cleaning glasses, it doesn’t look like he’d get much help otherwise. Perceptor waits for his explanation as his optics wander to the others before landing back Perceptor and a particularly devious idea comes to his mind.

“What is it, Percy?” Brainstorm coos mockingly as he puts the empty shot glass back to his lips with his optics locked with Perceptor’s, “Jealous it wasn’t yours?”

Perceptor stiffens with surprise then settles on scowling and is about to undoubtedly tell Brainstorm off but then Brainstorm is licking the dregs of the shot in a purposefully provocative way that has Perceptor speechless. Setting the shot glass aside, Brainstorm grins cheekily as Perceptor scoffs, anything he could have said dying on his glossa and Brainstorm grins cheekily with a victory on his servos, however petty and underhanded it is. Of course, never one to know when to stop playing with fire, Brainstorm leans on the bar and waves over to Swerve to catch his attention, making him flinch and almost drop the glass he’d been drying.

“Y-yeah, Brainstorm?” Swerve sets the glass aside and his optics flicker for a moment to Perceptor.

“Could you make one more of those shots?”

“Uh,” Swerve stalls and glances at Perceptor again then sighs and shrugs, “Sure, why not?”

In no time at all, Swerve puts another flaming shot in Brainstorm’s hand who offers it to Perceptor. Looking at it with open disgust, Percpetor’s glare only grows darker but Brainstorm is determined to get Perceptor to drop his guard, to dip a little into the depraved. He’s always wondered what kinds of things Perceptor would be willing to do, what it would be like to do those things with him…

“Here,” Brainstorm dangles the shot between, and with the precarious til of his hand, he realizes that maybe the engex is getting to him, “It’s all been consensual. No one’s done anything they didn’t want to do. So, try it. We’re scientists, aren’t we? It doesn’t hurt to be curious even if it verges on the side of morbidly curious.”

“Your strange fascination for the unnerving and nonsensical is not universal,” Perceptor puts firmly, holding up a hand to create a slight barrier between him and the flaming drink.

Brainstorm does roll his optics this time and sighs with no small amount of sarcasm, “Weren’t you a Wrecker? You must have seen and gotten up to things far more wild and depraved than this. Whatever happened to that Perceptor? Did he ever really exist?”

Perceptor grits his denta, going quiet and Brainstorm knows he’s struck a neurotransmitter, however small it might be and decides to really dig in his heals knowing full well that this could be one of his worse ideas. When has he ever let that stop him?

“You don’t have to drink of course,” Brainstorm sets the shot to the side and waves it all off, “but you can’t come in here and call me a degenerate when everyone knows your record.”

For a moment, everything is still and Brainstorm feels very full of himself as Perceptor stays quiet, knowing he can’t argue with Brainstorm but then Perceptor picks up the shot. Perceptor blows it out while looking Brainstorm right in the optic and pours it into his mouth. Not expecting that, Brainstorm doesn’t move, doesn’t even think to as Perceptor cups his face and kisses Brainstorm fully. Their lips mesh together and the warm burn of engex fills Brainstorm’s mouth as the drink pools out from Perceptor’s and his glossa slides past Brainstorm’s lips. He tastes the drink on Brainstorm’s glossa, holding his face firmly as he kisses the breath from Brainstorm. Brainstorm’s intake works as he drinks down the shot, intoxicated more by the taste of Perceptor than the engex itself. Then Perceptor is pulling away and Brainstorm doesn’t know what to do except hold tight onto the places on Perceptor’s frame he’d instinctively grabbed. Perceptor wipes away the trail of engex at the corner of Brainstorm’s mouth with his thumb and leans in close once more.

“The difference between you and me, Brainstorm,” Perceptor whispers so his vent brush Brainstorm’s lips, making him shiver, “is I know when to be depraved and when not to continue to procrastinate on my latest job.”

With that Perceptor, pulls away from Brainstorm and walks out of the bar, leaving a stunned Brainstorm in his wake. First Aid comes up beside him with a low whistle.

“I guess he really did have it in him, huh?”

Brainstorm nods and brings up his hand to touch his lips that still tingle with the sensation of Perceptor’s lips.

[toonformers]

Part 6

Today's topic

Twinsies AU part 5

Ok, so after Centinela had basically destroyed her ability to have feelings, she went on to give her life to science. She went on many expeditions with other Autobots to the Cybetronian colonies, working on different projects. In Velocitron, for example, Centinela created holo roads. Literal holographic roads that could go anywhere and take any shape. Perfect for a colony dependent on racing and speed. She had also developed a way to make energon slightly more stable for transport and currency exchange. In summary, Centinela had become a valuable asset to science and was to be Perceptor's successor when he'd decided to step down from the Ministry of Science.

In Sentinel's perspective, everything plays out like the TFA series, with the only difference of Sentinel being secretly empathetic towards the Jettwins, Jetstorm and Jetfire, because their relationship reminded him of the fact that he's also a twin. However, when asked about family, especially siblings, Sentinel would arrogantly deny having any family and claim he was forged instead of birthed. In his own way, Sentinel was trying to ignore the pain of his past, and would rather hide from his mistakes than face them.

I could go on about how each episode of TFA played out slightly differently because of Sentinel having a sister, but then I'd be writing a book, so I'll just leave those as an ask thing. The important thing is that Sentinel Prime went from being Elite Guard to acting Magnus. Then one day, Optimus Prime and his team of Autobots returned to Cybertron with Megatron and his Decepticons arrested. Leaving this beautiful reaction from Sentinel...

(If anyone finds a better quality pic tag me lol)

And a couple cycles after, Sentinel had called Optimus Prime to speak with him....alone. Sentinel didn't really explain why he wanted to speak with him. In fact, when Optimus was told this, he was confused at how Sentinel appeared so...calm. So this takes place in Fortress Maximus (I hope that's what it's called), in a large room with Sentinel sitting in a desk.

Optimus*enters*

Sentinel: Optimus Prime.

Optimus: You wanted to see me?

Sentinel: Yeah. Please, sit.

Optimus: *sits in front of Sentinel*

Sentinel: Uh, ho-how are you?

Optimus: Oh, fine. Fine. You?

Sentinel: Fine. Uh, your wounds healing okay?

Optimus: Yeah, they're fine.

Sentinel: Cool.

*awkward silence*

Optimus: So...why did you ask for me?

Sentinel: Well, I just wanted to *ahem* congratulate you. You impressed a lot of Autobots by defeating Megatron. Even me. I...honestly didn't think you had it in you.

Optimus: ....Thank you, Sentinel.

Sentinel, sad: And...I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For....Elita and...what happened at the Academy. I should've taken the blame then for what happened. I was just...I.... *sigh*

Optimus: You don't need to explain, Sentinel. I know you were just working very hard to get the life you wanted for Centinela and yourself. Family comes first, after all. I learned that on Earth. *smiles, then sighs* I just wish I could've brought Elita back with us...we never found her. I...don't know if she's online anymore. I'm sorry.

Sentinel, sad: Hehe, you don't need to apologize for anything. You did your best. And as your...acting Magnus, that's good enough for me.

Optimus: *chuckles* Wow. I don't know what hit you in the helm...but you seem a lot less...

Sentinel: Well, *accidentally switches to London accent* Mum and Dad always thought that respect was something that needed to be earned. And you've definitely earned it.

Optimus: *stifled laugh*

Sentinel: What?

Optimus: "Mum and Dad".

Sentinel, nervous: *blushes wildly and switches back to his usual accent* AGH THAT WAS NOTHING! I had a glitch in my voice box! Nothing weird!

Optimus: *chuckles* Of course. I would never think that you've been hiding your real accent.

Sentinel, nervous: Obviously not, hahahahaha...

*awkward silence number 2*

Optimus: So how is Centinela?

Sentinel, nervous: Uh, she's fine. In an...expedition to Junkion now.

Optimus: Sentinel, I spoke with her yesterday. She's not in Junkion, she's been back from her last expedition for many cycles now.

Sentinel: I...

Optimus: Listen, I know it's not my business. But I know you two haven't spoken since....I-I just hope you guys could speak and reconcile.

Sentinel: I...don't know if that's possible. We said some things...I said some things that I shouldn't of said.

*yet ANOTHER awkward silence*

Sentinel: Besides, I think it's for the best we go our separate ways. She'll be in the Ministry of Science soon enough and I'll be...

Optimus: The new Magnus. You must be so proud of yourself. You made it, hehe. Got the highest rank in the Autobot system, next to the Council. Maybe you'll go for that when you retire.

Sentinel: Heh, yeah. Yeah...

Optimus: Well...I should get going then. I hope I could stay on Earth for a bit longer, to help restore the damages done in Detroit. If that's alright with you.

Sentinel: Yes, of course. Stay as long as you need.

Optimus: Heh, alright then. *stands* It was nice speaking to you... *salutes* Commander.

Sentinel: Yes. You too.

Optimus: Take care, Sentinel. *leaves*

Sentinel then looks around at his fame...fortune and status. He then looks down and sighs. The final part will be up soon. Thx for reading up to now. See ya soon n.n

Part 6

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

[dracoqueen22]

Checking In

Universe: The Prime’s Consorts/Consortium Rated: G/K+ Description: It’s the call Wheeljack’s been waiting for, but he still doesn’t expect to hear the good news from Ratchet’s own lips. Wrist-deep in one of his many projects, Wheeljack often ignores his communication console when it beeps at him or flashes at him or makes any amount of distracting attempts to get his attention. But when the special tone Wheeljack programmed specifically for Ratchet pings at his audials, Wheeljack scrambles to answer it, sending a container of tools crashing to the floor as he lunges for the acceptance key. He winces as the clatter of scattered tools echoes around his laboratory, but it’s a distant worry because the moment his fingers brush the key, Ratchet’s face fills the screen. Relief crashes over Wheeljack even harder than the tumbled tool chest. Especially when Ratchet gives him that wry grin. “Catch you at a bad time?” “Shut up,” Wheeljack says, his indicators flashing. He claws at the desk, dragging his wheeled chair around the tool detritus to get his face better in the screen. “I’ve been worried sick about you.” Ratchet arches an orbital ridge. “Think I can’t take care of myself?” “I think that having to watch you get on a shuttle meant for the Prime’s estate took decades off my spark-life,” Wheeljack replies tartly. Of course, Ratchet would be flippant about this. Of course. “How’re you? And be honest.” “When am I not?” Ratchet snorts, but his grin shifts into something more serious. “I’m actually… okay. Better than either of us could’ve hoped.” He might even be telling the truth, Wheeljack thinks.

Ratchet looks… good. Rested and polished, and his smile feels genuine. From what Wheeljack can see in the background, he’s in a berthroom, probably not the Prime’s but one of his own. Wheeljack doubts the Prime would make all of his Consorts stay in the same room with him, no matter how vile and lecherous they are. Ten is a lot to keep in that kind of space. Also, Ratchet doesn’t have a kinky collar around his neck, or manacles on his wrists, or any marks on his armor. Of course, this Prime could be the sort who likes to make sure his Consorts are pretty and polished to hide the scars. Wheeljack squints at his best friend. “Do I need to come to Iacon and blow up the Prime? Because I’ll do it, treason bedamned.” Ratchet, of all things, laughs. And it’s a genuine laugh, not one of Ratchet’s patented “I’m not okay but Wheeljack makes things a little better” laughs. “Please don’t,” he says. “I actually like this Prime.” Wheeljack sits back in his chair, sending it rolling into a heavy wrench. “Wait. Really?” “Really,” Ratchet says. He leans to the side, plants his chin on his fist. “He might actually be one of the good ones, Jack. So far, that’s what I’ve seen anyway.” His free hand touches his chassis. “I saw a lot of his truth.” “It’s not impossible to lie through a spark merge,” Wheeljack points out. “You know that.” They don’t mention the name Pharma. They don’t have to. “I do, and only time will tell if this Prime is a good liar, but… I don’t think he is,” Ratchet says, and there’s an almost awestruck tone to his voice that really throws Wheeljack for a loop. Ratchet is grumpy and pessimistic and jaded. He’s not a mech full of awe or hope. What kind of mech is Optimus Prime to inspire this kind of change in him? And is it genuine? Ratchet’s one of the smartest, most well-defended mechs Wheeljack knows, but there are plenty of mneumosurgery specialists running around on Cybertron. Past leadership has not hesitated to apply their specific talents. “Why not?” Wheeljack asks. Ratchet settles into his chair. “It’s the way he talks to us. He’s open-minded without it being condescending. Everything about him reads as genuine.” He makes a vague gesture. “He actually asked me what it would take for me to be comfortable, and not only did he listen, he took my words to spark.” It sounds too good to be true. A Prime genuinely taking interest in the well-being of his Consorts? Treating them as more than berth-mates or well-bred buymechs? Has Wheeljack stepped into an alternate dimension? “He’s made it pretty damn clear he hates the current Consort process, too,” Ratchet continues, because apparently there are more good things to say. Wheeljack has to admit, that’s a hefty amount of evidence leaning toward Optimus Prime being a halfway decent mech. “He wants to change Cybertron, Wheeljack. He’s asked us to help.” “And you believe him?” “He asked me to be his personal medic so yeah, I think I do,” Ratchet says, his optics dimming with serious contemplation. “There’s something different about this one, Jack. I’m sure of it.” He pauses and gives Wheeljack a wry look. “He’s not the first Prime I’ve met, remember?” Wheeljack rolls his optics. “I remember.” Ratchet’s old enough to have met at least two other Primes before Optimus, and he loves to remind Wheeljack how much older he is at every opportunity. It took forever for Ratchet to stop calling him “bratling.” He still does it now and again to tweak Wheeljack’s gears. “If he does even half the things he says he’s going to do, then we can all consider ourselves lucky,” Ratchet says, and there’s an odd earnest tone to his voice. “I’ve agreed to support him, or at the very least, not stand in his way.” Wheeljack has to meet this Prime, if he’s turned surly Ratchet into a mech daring to have an inch of hope these days. He pulls up a datapad out of range of the camera and starts looking up flights from Nova Cronum to Iacon proper. If the Prime won’t let him see Ratchet, well, that’s just proof he’s not all shiny brackets like he claims to be. A good Prime wouldn’t prevent best friends from visiting each other, now would he? “Ratchet, start from the beginning,” Wheeljack says, using his best no-nonsense voice. The one he uses on his apprentices to get them to stand up and obey and yes, absolutely, definitely employ the safety precautions that are there for a reason, you morons. Yes, I’m looking at you, Brainstorm. “Tell me everything,” Wheeljack continues as he divides his attention between his best friend and the available flights. He’s got plenty of creds saved up for an impromptu vacation and besides, Perceptor’s been begging for him to check out the lab in Iacon anyway. Two Scraplets, one shot and all that. “Especially about the other consorts,” Wheeljack adds. He knows who they are thanks to the public announcement that went up, but he doesn’t know them, and if any of them are mistreating Ratchet, well, Wheeljack has a few accidentally explosive gifts to give. “Give me the gossip everyone else isn’t going to get.” Ratchet laughs and gives him such a fond look, Wheeljack preens. “Alright you nosey slagger. Hope you don’t have anywhere to be today.” Wheeljack idly kicks a scattered tool away from his chair. “My time is all yours.” He books the first flight out. ***

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 18 - Made Of

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Sunstreaker & Sideswipe Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Shockwave, Chromia, Lancer, First Aid, Perceptor, Greenlight Additional Tags: Noncon Experimentation, Angst Words: 14547

( Previous )

Sunstreaker still had a limp the next day. It wasn’t just pain that had stolen his legs from under him—apparently Megatron had generously messed up his entire hips. Knock Out had fixed or replaced everything, but they didn’t have the time to wait for the parts to fully integrate before Hot Shot came to let them know they were wanted at the door.

They could guess what that was about.

At least Sunstreaker stayed on his pedes well enough, partially numb areas making his movement lag or not. The guards opened the doors for them, and on the other side was waiting… The same blue mech that had given them their dinner instructions. He had another smile to give them. “Good morning. Master Shockwave sent me to get you.”

As they’d guessed, then. They nodded their understanding and the mate waved them along. No guards moved to accompany them, oddly enough. Was it because the way wasn’t that long?

It didn’t seem like that was the case when they headed for the elevators instead of any of the other wings on the same floor. Sideswipe watched the number the mate picked on the lift’s control panel. They were way high up, nearly at the top of the whole damn tower.

Their destination, according to the floor the elevator was directed to go to, was far, far lower. He wasn't sure they'd ever gone that low in the tower. They'd been brought in via a rotorflier that had already landed pretty high up, and they'd only gone higher still from there.

Total opposite now. It was going to be a long ride.

And awkwardly quiet if no one said anything, in Sideswipe's opinion. Or, well, awkward for him. Sunstreaker wasn't likely to care, and he wasn't sure the other mate would either.

But in the name of not feeling so awkward himself, Sideswipe spoke up. “You’re from… Shockwave’s harem?” he asked. The blue mech had a brand on him and was clearly running around on Shockwave's business, so… 

They confirmed it. "I am. We never had proper introductions, did we? I'm Chromia." His field flared in proper greeting and Sideswipe's automatically responded to it. Sunstreaker's did too, after a moment's delay.

"You probably know our designations already," Sideswipe hazarded, a guess Chromia confirmed with a nod. He had to have asked for them specifically, anyways. Hard to do that if you didn't know who you were supposed to get.

But if they were going to have some small talk… There were things Sideswipe was curious about, and Chromia might just have some answers.

Firstly, "How high ranking is Shockwave, exactly?"

"He answers only to Lords Megatron and Soundwave," Chromia said, and it looked like this wasn't an off limits topic, because he stayed relaxed and casual. "He's Lord Megatron's Head of Scientific Research. Rather important figure, as I'm sure you can imagine."

As for his part, Sideswipe wasn't feeling very relaxed or casual when keeping in mind where they were going, but tried to pretend he was anyway. Just chit chat, that was all! And learning a bit more about Kaon's ruling class or whatever you wanted to call it while at it. That couldn't hurt. 

But. So. They were headed to get experimented on by what might be the third most powerful mech in Kaon, when they'd already established to themselves that you didn't make it to ranks like that by being nice. "What's he like? Shockwave I mean,” Sideswipe asked carefully. What kind of things could one even say about their mate? ‘Oh, they’re a total rapist and abuser, real jackass, I hate their guts’.

No one in Megatron’s harem would’ve said that. Well, aside from him and Sunstreaker. They would’ve said that.

"Hm?" Chromia looked at him, although Sideswipe wouldn't have called his expression all the way surprised.

He really wasn't sure what to call it at all, but Chromia answered him anyway, unreadable emotions or not. "He's fair, I'll give him that. Unapologetic in the pursuit of knowledge, but you don't need to worry about that. Lord Megatron doesn't allow harm to come to his mates. Master Shockwave respects that."

Out of genuine respect, or because Megatron would do something very bad to him if he broke his rules? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean, 'unapologetic'?" Sunstreaker spoke up sharply. Chromia gave him that same look that neither of them could quite name.

"He'll go as far as he needs to to get answers, when orders otherwise aren't holding him back."

Like orders would be holding him back in his and Sunstreaker's case. Hopefully. But the implications behind those words were… Heavy. Chromia didn't outright say so, but Sideswipe could imagine that as far as he needs to really did mean as far as he needs to. Ethics, morals? Damn those, most likely. It would fit the rest of the place. All the other things they’d already seen and felt them do… What was some experimentation while at it? The subjects probably didn’t consent, but consent meant jackall here.

They weren’t consenting either, but Megatron had given them up for tests and whatever else, so… That was what was going to happen. Chromia’s assurances that no harm would come to them felt thin when he fully expected that even some very unpleasant things would count as not harm.  

Then, was it too personal to ask… Sideswipe asked anyway. “How long have you been in his harem?”

Megatron’s harem didn’t talk about things like that, but then again, they hadn’t gone out of their way to ask either. They had no idea how long anyone there had been in Megatron’s clutches, or how they’d gotten caught in that net, what their life was like before… None of that. They had no idea. 

But Chromia wasn’t put off by that question either and merely chuckled. “Oh, most of my life at this point. I wasn’t that old when I fought in the Pits to prove my worth and gain the interest of the court—and succeeded! Master Shockwave chose me over all the others.”

He sounded… Proud. Really proud, but Sideswipe couldn’t get past the feeling that this didn’t quite compute.

Fought? Gain interest? Chose, like that was a… A good thing?

Sunstreaker recovered from their shock slightly faster, at least partway—enough to ask an entirely incredulous, “You… Wanted to become a mate?”

Chromia nodded, still looking all kinds of self-satisfied. “It is an honor. Not everyone wants it, understandably, but– You’re not Kaonites, are you? Here, those that desire it are given the option to try to impress the court enough to be chosen. Lord Megatron has a pair too, ah, what were their names… Runamuck and Runabout? They were quite a sight when they fought; I’m not surprised Lord Megatron himself would choose them.”

Primus. That was a hell of a lot to digest after all the slag they’d gone through and seen and heard about and… Slag. And they sure as pit hadn’t known that about Runamuck and Runabout, but that was no surprise since they didn’t know that much about anyone. 

Sideswipe released a ventilation he hadn’t realized he was holding, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He felt a little woozy right there. This, the information that some came to this life willingly and even thought of it as a good thing, an honor as Chromia put it… It went against everything they felt. This was hell to them. There was nothing good about any of it.

And some fought to get to their garbage standing. 

But not everyone. “Why doesn’t everyone want it?” Sideswipe had to ask, not particularly fond of the way his voice was caught somewhere between a squeak and a wheeze, but at least his vocalizer worked. That was something.

“It’s a sacrifice,” Chromia shrugged. “You give up a lot of your freedoms and lay your future in the hands of another. It’s not a choice that should be made lightly.

“But many consider the tradeoff worth it. You get to be so close to our leaders, to serve Kaon in such a way, maybe make yourself more useful than you would’ve been otherwise. And obviously, the surroundings you’re given are very lavish and comfortable. There isn’t a hell of a lot to complain about, at the end of the day.”

Not a lot to complain about.

Right on the heels of admitting that even those that took the role willingly lost their freedom, as if Runamuck and Runabout weren’t enough proof of that. They had never suspected there was anything different about them, because they didn’t get treated any differently. They were as stuck in the harem wing as everyone else. They didn’t have magical rights to leave at will.

But… What? It was worth it because they got to be Megatron’s berth toys and ‘serve Kaon’ through their servitude to its sovereign leader?

If that was the logic, then the other set of twins was probably even more honored than Chromia. Chromia only belonged to the third most powerful mech, whereas Runamuck and Runabout belonged to the most powerful. 

It was so messed up.

Arguing probably wouldn’t have worked any better than it did with Megatron’s mates, though. If outlanders, those that had clearly come from outside of Kaon, bought into this bullshit, then how much more were natives going to do the same? They were raised here, into this culture of… What was it? Extreme nationalism or something? If it was drilled into them from the moment they were activated, how was Sideswipe going to change their mind in the duration of one elevator ride?

“How often do those fights take place?” Sunstreaker asked, his voice tight.

“Rarely, sadly. The court does try to keep the sizes of their harems manageable, and that won’t work if they’re hoarding new mates at every turn.”

And it looked like quite a few mecha were brought from outside for some reason. Why even do that if there were willing mecha within your own city?

He asked that much, and Chromia didn’t withhold that answer either. “In part it’s kindness, to rescue mecha from Unified Cybertron into the cultural freedom of Kaon. But maybe a bit more than that, it’s… How would I put it. A delicacy for the ruling class? They have a far wider range of frame types to choose from, and there is always allure to frames you might not find in Kaon at all, or at least not often.”

Kindness.

Delicacy.

So ultimately this whole thing was just because of the arrogance and egotism of Kaon’s ruling class. It wasn’t enough to take willing mecha from within their city’s walls, they wanted the exotic goods from elsewhere too—nevermind what those goods thought about. Living mecha with wills and sparks of their own, brought here to… To… 

Slag. Slag it all.

Maybe they were better off not knowing any of this. Blissful ignorance had kept them from realizing the full extent of Kaon’s depravity, but they were quickly falling down the rabbit hole of being horrifically informed of how Kaonites thought. It didn’t look a hell of a lot like it was only the court that thought this was somehow acceptable. Was the general populace of that opinion too? Did they think being a mate was such an honor that anyone who got brought here for it should be grateful and devote their damn lives to Kaon without question?

“How many harems are there?” Sunstreaker asked while Sideswipe was still busy trying to sort his thoughts into any kind of a functional order with very little success.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually counted,” Chromia mused, then began to tick mecha off with his digits without actually saying anything before he’d apparently counted them all. “Nine or ten, if I remember everyone? Lord Soundwave should have one too, but he’s never taken any mates himself, for whatever reason.”

“Is that why Megatron shares… Us? With him?”

“Possibly. I won’t pretend to know their reasoning, but Lord Megatron and Lord Soundwave are good friends.”

So apparently they could build friendships too. That was almost surprising.  

“How big are the harems?” Sunstreaker, again.

“Usually around ten members, and I think there’s at least one that is over twenty mates strong. Lord Megatron’s is undoubtedly the largest, though, as is fitting for a mech of his standing.”

Several times the size of his subordinates’ harems, in other words. What greed.

The elevator stopped, effectively cutting their bit of interrogation short. Chromia, still, didn’t look at all perturbed by all of their questions, just gestured them along when the doors opened to a hallway that didn’t look that different from any of the other hallways they’d seen. They took a couple of turns until they came to double doors similar to what led to the wings located on the harem’s floor. There were guards here too, like there were everywhere, but the doors opened on Chromias approach and in they went.

At first it didn’t look so different and he wondered just where Shockwave was going to do their testing, but then they went through another set of doors, and suddenly there were hallways and doors all over the place leading to who knew where. Maybe just rooms, maybe other, closed off hallways. They took two ramps down, then through big doors, again, and he was getting kind of lost already.

But Chromia walked ahead of them with confidence, so they followed and tried not to worry about it too much. 

More smaller doors and corridors, up until they stopped in front of one specific door that, to Sideswipe, didn’t look any different from all the others. Chromia pinged for entrance, and with minimal delay the door slid out of their way. They followed the blue mech into the room, although they didn’t follow in the short bow Chromia gave to… Shockwave.

Shockwave was looking at them. “Here they are, master,” Chromia said.

The apparent scientist only responded with, “Dismissed,” and at once their guide took his leave. The door closed behind him, and there they were. In a room. With the very creepy Shockwave. The door probably wouldn’t open for them even if they tried to get out.

“First Aid,” Shockwave called without actually raising his voice, and a mech they hadn’t noticed set something down on the other side of the room before scurrying over. They could just catch a glimpse of a brand on his shoulder. Another of Shockwave’s mates, then, which… Was a little weird. Were they working together?

“Yes, master?” First Aid asked once he got closer, and pits but it grated to hear the title at every turn. They were clearly too used to the casual air in Megatron’s harem, at least when the tyrant wasn’t present. Even Megatron’s mates spoke in a more respectful manner around him. Yes, my Lord; of course, master—the works.

It didn’t look to be so different with Shockwave, in that aspect.

“Get them ready,” was the instruction Shockwave said before he turned away. First Aid voiced his understanding, then waved the twins forward.

To the center of the room, where there were two berths, currently pushed together to form one larger slab. The lights in the ceiling above it were too bright for comfort, and Sideswipe couldn’t even begin to name the contraptions that circled around the lights, ready to be pulled down for use. “If you’d lay down and open your chestplates, please,” First Aid requested once they got next to the berths.

Righty! Apparently there was going to be no warmup whatsoever. “Not even a single date first?” Sideswipe said, and it was such a weak joke and his obvious nervousness only made it weaker, but First Aid nevertheless snorted before quickly smoothing his field. Sideswipe could imagine the same happened to his face, if he had one, but once again there was both a mask and a visor in use. It was impossible to tell what was behind them. 

Sunstreaker reached to squeeze his arm before his brother hopped onto one of the berths. Sideswipe followed, and only after they were both sitting on their respective berths did they lay down fully.

“Open your chestplates and bare your sparks, please,” First Aid repeated when they didn’t do that right away. Sunstreaker bit his denta together so hard his jaw ached and Sideswipe gnawed on his bottom lip until he was sure to leave marks–

But after a few more moments of hesitation, they both initiated the transformation in their chassis—their chestplates pushed apart, then their internals moved out of the way, and even more reluctantly their spark chambers pushed forward, until those too opened to let their sparklight through.

“Thank you,” was all First Aid said, looking back in Shockwave’s direction. They didn’t know what the scientist was doing, but fraggit, could he hurry up with it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to lay around with their spark in plain view, even if there were only two other mecha present to see.

Two mecha too many.  

Luckily Shockwave didn’t take that long before he came over, pulling along a cart with more… Things on it. Probably some science thingies, but they wouldn’t know one whit about that sort of stuff. 

“Don’t close your chestplates,” Shockwave ordered them, and Sideswipe had just the time to worry why he saw fit to say that much–

And then Shockwave had already brought a fancy looking vernier right up to his spark, and by the pits his first instinct was to slam his chestplates right back shut alright. There wasn’t even a warning! Unless the order was the warning. It was a crappy warning if that was the case.

Instead of trying to close his chestplates, though, Sideswipe tried to sit up instead, not because he was really thinking clearly, but just because it wasn’t cool to have something so close to his spark–

But First Aid caught him by the shoulders before he could get anywhere and pressed him back down with surprising strength. 

“Stay still,” Shockwave said, staring at him with that one lonely optic. “You will be restrained if you don’t cooperate.”

...Right. Okay. So. Reminder. There was no saying no to any of this, and honestly he was getting pretty damn worried here–

But Sideswipe bit his lip harder and nodded his understanding even as Sunstreaker growled deep from his frame. 

Shockwave stared at him for a few more seconds before he repeated his original motion and… Brought the measuring tool to his spark. Then he tightened it until it was just on this side if uncomfortable, stopping only when Sideswipe hissed at the near pain.

But he got the diameter as far as Sideswipe could tell, and seemed satisfied with that. He left Sideswipe and his half of their spark alone and went to do the same to Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker growled some more but didn’t put up a fight. There was exactly nothing they could do whether or not they were tied down, but they’d still rather have even the illusion of being able to protect themselves. 

Better behave, then.

Scanners came next, a whole assortment of them. Some worked from a distance, others were pushed right up to their spark, and it was a fight and a half to not try to stop the process at every turn. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t comfortable. Their instincts were screaming at them about protecting their core and lifeforce and they felt really damn naked keeping their sparks bared like that, but Shockwave undoubtedly had Megatron’s authority behind him.

And he would force them if they didn’t submit willingly.

So they tried. And succeeded, mostly, only earning themselves a couple of warnings when they jerked or flinched when they shouldn’t have. 

First Aid jacked into their medical ports on Shockwave’s order and took some more readings with their frames’ built-in scanners and diagnostics systems, and rooted around in general. He seemed to know what he was doing, at least, although Sideswipe worried over the amount of data he downloaded from each of them. The pit was he going to need all of that for? Or what was Shockwave going to need it for, rather?

They didn’t ask. Shockwave didn’t seem the chatty type. He sure as pit didn’t tell what he was doing or going to do any step of the way. It would’ve been really nice if he had, but they kept their silence the same Shockwave kept his.

Sunstreaker snarled even harder when Shockwave had taken an ungodly amount of readings out of them and then… “Merge.”

They really should’ve expected this too. And had, honestly.

Didn’t make them any more happy about it.

First Aid stayed connected to their ports and that didn’t help make things feel any less awkward, nor did the fact Shockwave had all of his scanners ready to record the whole damn process, but all the same Sunstreaker rolled over to be atop Sideswipe. He only barely even made it to straddling his thighs before their spark halves already surged from their chambers, meeting between their frames and merging in midair, as per usual—the scant few times they’d had the chance to do this.

The world imploded.

It was fucking heaven. He always forgot what it felt like, and then he wondered how could he ever forget. When the physical separation between their spark halves was removed, so was… Everything. It all stopped mattering, everything their frames had ever gone through—inconsequential.

All there was was the unity and the rightness of being together in the way they were supposed to be, but weren’t allowed to be, not even just temporarily—too risky, not safe enough, always someone who could hurt.

It was that thought that made them attach to the physical world a bit better, now. Sunstreaker’s frame had entirely collapsed on Sideswipe’s, all sense removed from their physical shackles for precious moments. It left their spark mostly protected, at the very least, out of sight aside from the light that bled from the gaps between their frames.

Sunstreaker lifted himself laboriously, just enough that he could look Sideswipe in the optic—rest their forehelms together. It didn’t matter that the circumstances of this were… Less than ideal.

What mattered was doing it. Fuck everyone else when they could have this. Their spark pulsed, whole, comfortable, full, swirling into itself and blending together until there was no end to him and no beginning to Sunstreaker.

They just were.

He just was.

Shockwave still didn’t say anything, but they could feel the intrigue in First Aid’s field. Split-sparks were rare, weren’t they? Mech had probably never seen this before. Had Shockwave either? They didn’t know. 

More scans, more diagnostics, more of everything, but it didn’t matter. They basked in being what they were supposed to be, and it didn’t matter. Maybe they were too compliant right then, too withdrawn, too careless, and maybe this was why they barely ever merged–

But in the moment, it was all the same as long as their spark was whole.

“Can you overload?” Shockwave asked after a while of observing them. They both shook their helms, not quite finding the will to speak—but it was a simple answer to a simple question, wasn’t?

Could they overload their spark like this?

No. Of course not, where would they have even found the energy for that from? Did the whole sparked walk around overloading all the damn time? No? Then neither would they.

First Aid logged and downloaded those thoughts, and those were some high level privileges he’d given himself in their systems.

They didn’t quite find it in themselves to care.

“Pull partway apart,” Shockwave ordered them next, and they did only because they knew nothing would come of it—that their halves wouldn’t part from that. Sunstreaker pushed himself up on his arms, but their spark remained merged, suspended in the halfway point between their chambers. Only tendrils connected it to either frame, once Sunstreaker lifted himself high enough.

Tendrils that weren’t enough life for their frames. Grey began to form at their extremities and creeped towards their core slowly. First Aid outright gasped in surprise—had they never seen that before, either?—but they weren’t dying, no matter what their frames thought. And really, what were their frames supposed to think when they could register the spark weakening? It was only their link to the spark, not the spark itself, but their bodies didn’t differentiate between those two.

Sideswipe grinned all of a sudden, full of mischief. “Watch this,” and he brought his servo between their spark and its connection to Sunstreaker’s chamber.

The tendrils were severed entirely and Sideswipe heaved his brother’s frame to the side before it could fall back over him—his brother’s frame that was, now, fully grey. Without a spark signature, or indeed, a spark.

Dead, for all intents and purposes.

First Aid’s field was full of a mix of shock, horror, and surprise, though he didn’t say anything and didn’t disconnect from them. Sideswipe giggled even as their spark sank into his chamber, larger than before and fitting in so snugly. He would’ve closed his chestplates out of reflex too, if Shockwave hadn’t chosen that moment to start poking around his core again.

This time… He was floating, a little bit, or so it felt like. Light. Right. 

He didn’t really care that Shockwave repeated the whole entire process he’d already put their spark halves through, but now with their spark fully merged. So many scans and physical measurements and who knew what else.

But he was floating. Happy.

When was the last time he’d been happy?

Shockwave did step back eventually and Sideswipe very lazily turned his helm to look at him. “How do you separate?” the scientist or whatever asked, and Sideswipe focused on his frame enough to remember all of its parts.

Stupid, stupid frame that usually acted as a physical barrier between himself and himself.  

Was he supposed to step back to that reality again?

He didn’t really want to.

...But some part of him reminded him it’d be best to follow the instructions they were given, and answer the questions. “Like… Oof. Like this,” Sideswipe managed to click, turning over and taking his turn to straddle his other frame. Grey frame. 

It wasn’t nearly as upsetting as it should’ve been. Why would he be upset? He was just about to resurrect it. Sideswipe sat on Sunstreaker’s thighs, leaned over him, and carefully brought his arms between their frames to pull his spark from his chassis, though not so far he would’ve had the whole nearing so-called death, going grey thing happen. 

Then he sank his claws into it, all of them—caged portions of it into each of his servos–

And began to pull it apart.

It put up a fight, it did every time, but with a bit of patience and care he managed to separate it into two clear portions that pulsed brightly, but were half the size they had been together. One he pushed back into his own chassis, the other he directed into Sunstreaker’s. It hesitated for a second or two before connecting to Sunstreaker frame with an audible crackle and snap, followed by a clang as Sunstreaker’s chestplates automatically closed around it without any conscious thought on his part. Sideswipe barely pulled his digits free in time. 

Color returned to his brother and Sideswipe smiled a satisfied smile even as the gape between them began to yawn again, larger, more uncomfortable by the second.

Not right.

But it was how they lived. One spark in two places at once, directing two separate frames. That was all.

“Move aside, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker, bare your spark,” Shockwave ordered them both once Sunstreaker’s optics had lit up with clarity. Unease was weaving into them and quickly so, but Sideswipe still felt a bit languid when he rolled off of Sunstreaker and back onto the other berth. Sunstreaker was reluctant, but opened his chest back up—not that he even remembered closing it.

And again there was the whole hullabaloo of taking all the readings. That was getting old and tiresome fast, but Sideswipe feared they’d have to bear similar boredom several times still, before Shockwave was through with them.

They laid around all the same, trying to pass the time mostly by focusing on what First Aid was doing in their helms. Unfortunately it wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have already done though, either.

Shockwave only spoke up once he was done and set all of his instruments aside. “How do you know which half belongs to which frame?”

That was… A question. “We… Don’t?” Sideswipe ventured, but it was Sunstreaker who provided the more informative answer.

“Our spark’s one and the same no matter what. It’s the frames that call forth different aspects of it—personalities, if you want to call them that.”

Shockwave seemed to think on it for a moment, then nodded. “Close your chestplates. First Aid, show them to their quarters. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Lancer will interview you later.”

First Aid disconnected from them and handed Shockwave something, probably all the stuff he’d downloaded, before the scientist left entirely. Off to do some sciency stuff with all the sciency stuff he’d managed to pull from them, maybe? Or something.

They wanted to start splitting sparks, huh? That didn’t seem healthy. He had to wonder how many unfortunate test subjects that attempt was going to take.

...Best to not think about it too hard.

“Follow me, please,” First Aid requested once they’d both safely closed their chassis and gotten off the berths. 

So they did. There were more doors and hallways, although they didn’t go far this time before First Aid stopped at a door and opened it without going in himself. He gestured for them to do so instead. They did that too.

The room wasn’t big and it was impossibly spartan, but there was a berth big enough for the both of them, a desk with a chair, and some shelving that was entirely empty. 

And that was it. There was nothing else. 

They glanced back at First Aid when he spoke up. “For everyone’s safety, the door locks and you won’t be able to come out.” That… Wasn’t entirely surprising, although it also wasn’t particularly welcome. But what was the other option? Let them wander around? There was no way in pit anyone was going to allow that. “I’ll have Lancer bring you some entertainment once he comes to do your interview.”

“What kind of an interview is it?” Sideswipe asked before First Aid managed to close the door. It looked like he was in a bit of a hurry, but took the time to answer anyway.

“Just a questionnaire to chart… Well, everything possible about your spark condition and how it affects you. Being as thorough as you can is the most helpful.

“Lancer should be by soon. We’ll probably see later, so…” Without a proper goodbye and a bit awkwardly, First Aid closed the door. They could hear it lock, too, as he’d promised. 

And then they were alone.

The silence of the room was only broken by the sounds of their frames, and that was… Was the last time they’d had that when Megatron had separated them, taken turns leaving each of them alone in his quarters to break them?

Those times they hadn’t even had each other. This was different. They were alone in the right way, now, but that was… Weird as all pit, after spending so much time in the harem. There were always others there. Even the library wasn’t real solitude. There were sounds made by the others, their fields, energy signatures, everything their senses would constantly pick up and keep them aware of, even when they were consciously ignoring it all.

Now?

None of that.

It was just them, their one and same spark signature, the energy signatures and the functioning, lowkey whirr, hiss, rumble and whine of each of their frames, sounds changing with every motion they made, every shift of weight. But all of that was so infinitely familiar. Predictable. They knew each other inside and out—their spark, and their frames. So… It was nowhere near the same as being surrounded by the others in the harem. 

They weren’t really sure what to make of it. The kind of extreme quiet they were experiencing now they’d only experienced in Megatron’s quarters before this, and if that wasn’t a lovely way to surface some memories they weren’t particularly fond of. In the streets, even during the quietest night, you could hear distant traffic, the hum and clang of the city living around you, its systems making sounds the same any frame did. It was an eternal background noise you could never escape without four walls around you.

Right now? There were four walls around them, and they were who knew how deep into the tower, and here there wasn’t the sounds of the towers’ functions. That was probably deliberate.

They were perfectly isolated in the bright room, locked in so they couldn’t have left even if they’d wanted to, and… They sort of wanted to. There was something infinitely disquieting about the space, its almost clinical emptiness and… Lifelessness.  

Sideswipe sat down on the berth even as Sunstreaker frowned and crossed his arms, glaring at the tiny room at large. They couldn’t help but draw more comparisons to the harem wing. Say what you will about it, but it was alive, and not just because of its occupants. There was actual color, and lights placed so that they cast real shadows even as they lit anything that needed to be lit, and never leaving things so dark it would’ve been unwelcoming. There were the scents—of oil and repairs in Knock Out’s medbay, clean as the room was; the electric scent of the book files in the library, sharp and piquing; the mingling of energon and additives in the dining hall, perfect to rouse one’s appetite; solvent and so many scented products in the washracks…

And the entertainment room and berthroom, with the smells that permeated every other part of the wing too. Lubricant, transfluid, overloads. Interface. It was everywhere in the harem, for obvious reasons.

And despite that, he would’ve rather been there. There was something homey about the lush colors and intimate feel of the harem wing.

This? Despite the light colors and offensive brightness, he was mostly reminded of Megatron’s wing. Megatron’s wing had more furniture than this, but it still felt nearly as empty because of its color scheme and lack of any sort of decorations whatsoever, anywhere. 

Being reminded of Megatron’s living space wasn’t exactly welcome, either.

Here they were though, all the same. And why?

Because Megatron controlled every aspect of their life. 

Sideswipe gushed a sigh from his vents and fell onto his back on the berth. Sunstreaker finally moved to sit down next to him. 

Then there was more quiet and growing discomfort. Not physical, despite the amount of prodding and poking their spark had endured, but… Mental. Emotional.

But they could probably expect to be interrupted by their interview pretty soon. It wasn’t the best chance to try to chill out. And there might be cameras, too. That wouldn’t have surprised him.

...You know, he’d never wondered if there were some in the harem wing. It didn’t feel like a space where there would’ve been some, but maybe there were anyway.

“Wonder who Lancer is,” Sideswipe mused, just to break the silence even a little bit.

Sunstreaker, ever the best conversation partner, grunted.

“Think he’s another of Shockwave’s mates? ‘Cause First Aid was, but he was still, like… Being an assistant to Shockwave or something? In all sciency stuff?” That was weird. Really weird, when all they’d known was Megatron’s harem. Megatron only wanted interfacing out of them. Entertainment.

Were things so different for Shockwave’s harem, or what was going on? 

“We should ask, if we get the chance,” Sideswipe concluded. Theorizing with the very limited amount of information they had was hard as pit, and it would be nicer to get actual answers, anyway. Maybe Lancer would be willing to answer some questions, on top of making them answer questions?

Probably a lot of questions.

Weren’t they just real winners.

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

Lancer was, indeed, another of Shockwave’s mates. He was chipper, but efficient, asking all the questions and recording all the answers, prompting them with more questions that didn’t seem to be on his list if their answers weren’t in depth enough. He charted everything from their experience of their activation to medical history and every last detail they could think of over how being split-spark had affected their life, positively or negatively. He didn’t overtly react to anything they said, either, but remained perfectly professional. Which was nice. It kept things from getting so awkward, despite all the stuff they told—right down to how being so connected made them react to all the rape and abuse they’d endured here.

Of course, they were careful to not state or even suggest they were still very much plotting how to leave the whole place, even as they were frank enough about their dislike over the treatment they’d endured.

“Thank you so much! This will help us a lot,” Lancer said with satisfaction once it looked like he’d bombed them with all the questions he was going to. Sideswipe already opened his mouth with questions of his own, but snapped it back shut when Lancer continued, “Oh! Before I forget…”

He subspaced the datapad he had been using, made the twins a bit envious of his ability to actually access his subspace, then proceeded to pull out other datapads that he set on the desk.

Quite a few datapads, in fact—a whole pile by the end of it. “I grabbed some movies, book files, music, and a few games and podcasts for you! I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but hopefully there’s enough variety that you’ll find at least something to your liking.”

Sideswipe blinked, but Sunstreaker remembered their manners. “Thank you.”

“It’s no bother—you’ll have to stay here a few days anyway. Need to pass the time somehow, right?” He turned to leave, but a noise for his attention from Sideswipe had him halting and looking back at them.

Sideswipe spoke quickly, before the opportunity passed them. “Could we ask a few questions?”

Lancer looked a little surprised, but then smiled with a small laugh. “Well, I did just get from questioning you real good. I think it’s fair to repay that. Okay, what would you like to know?”

Okay, wow, they actually got the chance and Lancer seemed very open to questions too. That was a little unexpected, but Sideswipe gathered his thoughts quickly. “Alright, so… You’re in Shockwave’s harem too, right?” he asked first, and continued after Lancer nodded a simple confirmation, “And so’s First Aid? But First Aid was assisting Shockwave when he was taking all sorts of readings and whatnot off of us. Is that… Normal? For the harems? For Shockwave’s harem?”

“Not really normal for the harems, no,” Lancer answered and sat back down on the desk’s chair. “But it’s normal for us—Master Shockwave’s harem, I mean. Most of us have the know-how to help him in his projects, and he makes use of that.”

Lancer really seemed as forward as Chromia. That was… Nice. As far as getting their questions answered went, anyway. “How do you have the know-how? Has he taught you?”

“He continuously teaches us, yeah, but only really those who already had a background in the sciences or medicine—so, again, most of us. Really only Chromia doesn’t.”

“...What does Chromia do, if not that? Why does Shockwave have him?”

“Chromia is kind of… Our Starscream. Starscream takes care of Lord Megatron’s harem, right? Chromia does that here. Enforces Master Shockwave’s rules and orders, makes sure everyone has what they need, runs around doing Master Shockwave’s bidding when the rest of us are busy.” Lancer laughed there. Sideswipe cracked a smile, just to hide his… Confusion? No, not really confusion. There wasn’t that much to be confused over Shockwave having someone who filled Starscream’s role in his own harem.

Disturbance, rather. They knew what Starscream was like, how… Thoroughly he devoted himself to Megatron.

And Chromia did the same with Shockwave? Even when the other mates didn’t necessarily want to cooperate otherwise? 

Like that?

But Lancer didn’t seem bitter over it, or like he thought it was a bad thing. 

“How come most of you have the kind of backgrounds Shockwave makes use of?”

“We’re not from Kaon, but we were brought here specifically because of our skills. Master Shockwave has enough rank that aside from Lords Megatron and Soundwave, he can pick anyone he wants, and… He wants those with the skills. Lord Megatron has no use for our skill sets, so I don’t know anyone from his harem who could fill our roles.”

Yeah, Megatron really had no use for that kind of stuff, did he? You didn’t need to be a scientist to learn how to suck a spike.

“Doesn’t he work with anyone science type who isn’t from his harem?”

“Oh, he does. Flatline works here full-time, as does Perceptor—and Mixmaster, Hook, and some others occasionally collaborate with him on something. But Master Shockwave finds it… More agreeable, to work with his own harem.”

“...Why?” Sideswipe asked suspiciously, although he thought he might already know the answer.

Lancer shrugged. “We belong to him, and we serve him. He ranks higher than anyone else he works with, of course, and they obey his orders too, but that’s still not the same.”

He was more equal with other free mecha, wasn’t he? Sideswipe suspected they could say no to him, rank or not.

His harem, though? Probably had no such right. Megatron’s sure didn’t, and he didn’t think Shockwave’s was that dissimilar despite his use of his mates as his assistants.

Lancer didn’t say that much, but wasn’t it sort of written between the lines, anyway?

Sideswipe did no more than nod at that.

“Was there anything else?” Lancer asked after neither of the brothers said anything for a moment. Sideswipe gave it an actual thought, but…

“Not right now, ‘least.”

“Cool. If something comes up, ask one of us, we’ll be happy to help.” With that, a smile, and a wave, Lancer took his leave.

The door locked after him. Again. Naturally. Of course.

They both sighed in the silence that was left behind, but Sideswipe plucked the topmost datapad off the pile and turned it on to see what it contained. Sunstreaker did the same with another ‘pad, and… Well. They better get good at passing the time like this, probably.

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

The room had no windows, or clocks of any sort for that matter. If their chronometers hadn’t counted the day, they would’ve never known what time it was. They recharged during what would’ve been the quiet hours in the harem wing, and when no one came to interrupt them right away in the morning… Lazed around a bit. 

Hopefully whoever might come to take them for more tests would at least knock or ping first, instead of just barging in. And energon. They’d prefer fuel at some point, as much as it wasn’t strictly necessary. Yet. They probably, hopefully wouldn’t be here long enough for that to matter, but if they were hanging around for a full orn, they’d definitely have the time to get a bit uncomfortable from hunger.

They didn’t worry about that too much right in the moment, though. Sideswipe had draped himself along the full length of Sunstreaker’s side, his brother’s arm around him, tracing patterns on his armor.

Sideswipe did the same to Sunstreaker, dragging his claws along seams he knew were a bit on the sensitive side, and grinning every time he was a little too good at it and made the golden twin squirm. Sunstreaker didn’t tell him to knock it off though, or hadn’t so far.

He might at some point.

But for now he was too… Thoughtful, to really bother. And Sideswipe knew those thought tracks just as well. 

They merged so rarely. For obvious reasons, or… What had been obvious reasons. For Primus’ sake, they were guttermechs. They didn’t just have an apartment of their own that they could lock the door of and do what they willed. The best they could do was rent a room someone else would always have access to, too. 

Where were they supposed to merge? Nowhere, that’s where. 

So… They didn’t. Hadn’t. They had risked it… What, a grand total of three times in their lives, since emerging from the Well to get discarded in no time at all?

They weren’t old, but even for a short life that… Wasn’t very many merges. It wasn’t a necessity so it didn’t really matter, but pits it felt good. It was probably some sort of sucky coping mechanism to forget about the feeling after every time, because what would they have done otherwise except spend every moment of their life wishing they could do it again?

They’d done it now, and they hadn’t forgotten about it, not yet. It populated their thoughts, the… Feeling of it. 

Would they get used to it if they did it more often? Seemed likely. The whole sparked walked around the way they did all the time and nothing happened to them, but to him and Sunstreaker… It was so novel. It felt so good, was so right, fixed every problem they’d ever had, or so it felt like. It was how they were supposed to be, but how they weren’t despite it all. Was it any wonder knocking all the wrongness out of their life with just one act would be such a drastic difference that it would muddle their thoughts more than a little? That they’d want to just enjoy it, forever and ever?

Like the whole sparked got to do all the time. They took it for granted, didn’t even think about how else it could be.

Well, the twins knew how else they could be. They couldn’t take it for granted, because it wasn’t their usual state of being.

What kept them from occupying only a single frame, from being just one, in one? Was it just a habit? ‘Because that’s how it’s always been’?

Or was it an… Advantage? It never felt right, but it didn’t cripple them either. They could experience life at twice the pace everyone else could, because they were in two. Wasn’t that a good thing?

And the tradeoff was just to feel wrong on such a deep, inescapable level. 

That wasn’t so bad, was it? There were hardly any downsides… That they knew of. They had to admit they didn’t understand their spark very well. They took it at face value, but why did it do the things it did? Why could they be split, when trying to split a normal spark would only result in death? Ask anyone who had ever gotten stabbed in the spark. It didn’t tend to work out so well.

And when they pulled apart, why did their spark exchange its energy perfectly between its halves, neither bigger than the other when they separated? How the pit did it know to do that when there was no… Rift between them, when they were merged? It was just one whole spark with the ability to split for whatever reason, but the re-splitting was always a pretty crude process and still it always worked out.

That wasn’t even getting into their exchange of emotion and thought—or “thought”, rather. Emotion came through raw and unfiltered, but it was never words, never sounds, never perfect images that their spark was made of. Just… A mess. Shapes, textures, color, but they all came together to mean something, if you knew how to interpret it. Put it together. Translate it into something the frame could understand. Their spark was never confused by itself.

It was just the frame that didn’t always keep up with everything. 

They were pretty good at that, and they could also do the most important: segregate. Synchronization came naturally to them, but what they needed to do to function was to… Split their thoughts as their spark was split: one set of thoughts for the frame that was Sideswipe, another for the one that was Sunstreaker. They needed to function separately, steer their frames separately, divide themselves, sometimes to the point they became near senseless to one another–

And that went against their very being, but they had to do it. It was a skill. It had taken practice.

They didn’t usually think about any of this, honestly. It wasn’t important, it wasn’t relevant. What mattered was that they made it work.

But after trying to describe the whole mess to Lancer in as much detail and with as little confusion as they could manage, it was hard to not consider it all—wonder if it mattered anyway. They had no idea.

All they knew was that merging was… Better than any drug in the world, and they’d tried quite a few out of curiosity. 

And they weren’t on the streets anymore. They were never really alone either, aside from right now, but the other mates weren’t exactly… Threats? Were they? They had never actively tried to hurt them.

Could they even consider doing it again sometime, while they were still here? Because they’d be right back to the streets after they got out, and then they’d again be without the chances to do it.

So many thoughts. They should probably stop before their processors started steaming. Sunstreaker glanced at him at that, cocking one of his optical ridges at him and– Primus, he was just pretty. Beautiful. From helm to pede, their commissioners had done at least that right and given him all the looks in the world.

His optical ridges too. Their arch was just… Elegant, and Sideswipe knew that came without trying. 

Sunstreaker’s amusement turned into an outright, huffed laugh when he stared for too long.

Frag it.

Sideswipe lifted himself, just enough that he could silence it by pressing their mouths together—no grace, just want. Sunstreaker returned the kiss with quite a bit more thought behind it, and Sideswipe happily let him take the lead, melting a bit further against that lovely frame.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, you know,” Sunstreaker muttered against his mouth. Sideswipe could feel his grin.

It was his turn to laugh, just a little. “I know.” They were quite a pair, weren’t they? 

At least this much Megatron would never take from them—their self-centered love, devotion. There was no tarnishing it, even if he took everything else. 

They enjoyed each other for a time, cuddling and making out, lazy and without rush. Not that they couldn’t have done this in the harem, but there was always so much going on there, and that wasn’t even going into the fact there was no real privacy to be found anywhere in the harem wing.

Chances were they’d still have the time to get hella bored here even with the entertainment they were provided, but for now they were going to enjoy it.

They did the entire morning. Only a ping at the door interrupted them when it was starting to tip into the day proper. They untangled themselves at the interruption, and were sitting side by side on the berth by the time the door opened after a polite delay. 

First Aid stood on the other side, two cubes held in his servos. “Hope you slept well and have gotten the time to pass. Did Lancer– Oh, I see he did.” He was probably referring to all the datapads; at least those were what he was looking at. 

“He brought us stuff, yeah,” Sideswipe confirmed with a wry grin. First Aid’s field flared with something akin to a smile. He moved into the room just enough to place the cubes on the desk before returning to the doorframe.

It looked like he was going to leave, too, but Sideswipe interrupted that process with a, “Hey.” First Aid looked at him in askance, and out of the mates they’d met he seemed the least inclined to start answering any amount of questions, so Sideswipe kept it short. “When will there be more��� Tests?”

“Probably not today. Tomorrow at earliest, I think,” First Aid answered, and… That was kind of surprising? But he also explained the reason for it quickly enough. “There’s a lot of data Master Shockwave wants to comb through before he does anything else. Your spark is very unusual.”

Well. At least they were entertaining some scientist with their existence. Could be worse?

Sideswipe nodded and when they asked nothing else, First Aid bid them goodbye and left. They took the cubes they’d been brought and went to enjoy them. It wasn’t anything fancy, just basic midgrade, but that didn’t make it any less delicious.

And it looked like they wouldn’t have to worry about hunger, at least.

As First Aid had guessed, nothing happened for the rest of the day. Sunstreaker went through the datapads for things to read or listen to, Sideswipe grabbed the couple of them with games on them. They were the same games as in the harem, but he had his saves in his own systems, so it wasn’t a big thing to plug into the datapad and continue playing where he’d left off back there. 

It wasn’t the most interesting day ever. The harem was… A prison. There was no getting around the fact there wasn’t really anything physical to do, aside from ‘facing. And oh boy did the other mates ‘face a lot. Sideswipe had to wonder if some of that was just to try to make up for the lack of any other exerting activities, on top of being prompted by the protocols corrupted by the infernal transmission. 

He and Sunstreaker had put up with it so far because, you know, they didn’t exactly have any other option. They couldn’t just leave to go on drives or whatever. It worked in their favor that they had never had the ability to be as active as they would’ve liked. For the duration of their life, up until coming here, conserving energon had been a necessity. Technically they could have done whatever they wanted to, driven as far as they’d liked to–

But the practice was quite different. 

Now they would’ve had the energy, but not the freedom. That sure got flipped around a bit. 

But so there weren’t any past habits of long drives that they would’ve missed, for as many things there were that they did miss.

And some came here willingly? 

Frag.

Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to get over that anytime soon, especially after what he’d seen at the dinner—though to be fair he didn’t think he’d get over any of the shit that happened here anytime soon. But there was… Something. Their first time here, their whole initiation? Had been awful in so many ways.

But it was just that one time. They’d had some shit thrown at them since then too, mildly put, but they hadn’t gotten gang raped with that level of brutality since.

And the public servants? It looked a lot like brutal gang rape was their entire existence. He didn’t know where they lived, or were stored, what their downtime was like, but slag… He couldn’t imagine there was anything to want in that life. They looked to be halfway to the scrapyard already, on the inside. If he had to make a guess, they probably wished they could’ve gone the rest of the way.

He thought he would’ve, in their place. All the things Megatron had done to them and had made others do to them… It wasn’t those levels of bad. Maybe there was an instance here or there that compared, but it wasn’t continuous. That made the difference. 

Instances like Sunstreaker’s little outburst. Megatron knew how to damage a frame. Getting just beaten would’ve been one thing. Unpleasant and it would’ve hurt too, but it was so outlandish to mutilate a frame with nothing but a spike. Who else could do that but Megatron?

It was just… A more intimate sort of way to punish someone—taking something that was usually done for fun and affection, and using it as a weapon instead.

Violent.

Sunstreaker hardly even ached anymore. The physical signs of the whole incident were all but gone, even at the places where Knock Out hadn’t replaced the parts, only fixed them instead. 

But on the inside? His brother was tough, but Megatron was an enemy like nothing they’d faced before. Time and time again they could not win, not even in a small way, and if they stepped out of line… They were returned to it with devastating certainty.

Would Sunstreaker throw a drink at someone again? Was it worth it?

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

It was near the midday of the next day that there was a ping at their door again. Sideswipe paused and saved his game and Sunstreaker set down the bookfile he’d been perusing, seconds before the door opened to reveal Lancer.

He smiled and waved. “Master Shockwave has some more tests he’d like to run. If you’d come with me.”

Of course there was nothing about were they fine with this, or if they agreed to having more tests done on them.

They weren’t and they wouldn’t have, but you know.

They placed their datapads on the desk before following Lancer out of their temporary quarters and back into the same room from before, with its berths and contraptions. “Dismissed,” Shockwave said to Lancer once they were safely deposited in the room, and so he left.

Leaving them with Shockwave and… There was another mech present too. Red, but even searching, they couldn’t see a brand on him. 

He didn’t look like Kaonite though, not one bit. 

“On the berth,” Shockwave ordered them and they walked a couple of steps ahead of him to do so. Whatever cart the scientist had with him had more things on it, some that they could recognize from last time.

Was this going to be as boring?

Would they get to merge again?

“Perceptor.” With just one word from Shockwave, the red mech came over, although there wasn’t the same… Haste in his motions, as Shockwave’s mates had when they hurried to follow his orders.

There was something different about him in general, although they couldn’t place it. He was nervous though. Not overtly so, but it was still in his field. 

“Yes, hello, we haven’t met yet. I’m Perceptor, and I’ll be assisting Shockw–”

“Lay down,” Shockwave entirely interrupted his colleague—were they colleagues?—to order him and Sunstreaker around instead. But at least this much had already happened, so despite their very extant reservations, they laid down.

“Bare your sparks,” was the next thing, and they did that too, reluctant or not. Shockwave pushed and pulled some of the things hanging from the ceiling around, bringing some lower. Sideswipe would’ve guessed it was a scanner of some sort that he positioned around Sunstreaker’s spark, his brother watching the process with so much distrust.

But if they didn’t cooperate, they’d be made to cooperate anyway, so. He’d still rather go unrestrained.

Perceptor did what First Aid had done and jacked into their medical ports to bring up their internal scans and spark readings. One educated guess, they were going to do something to their spark.

And they probably wouldn’t like it.

The scanner thingy was secured directly against Sunstreaker’s chestplates before Shockwave pulled a different device down and aimed that at Sideswipe’s spark-half. It spun just that much more wildly in its casing as his concern grew. It would’ve been great if Shockwave had even told them what he was doing, but of course he couldn’t be bothered with that much.

Perceptor probably noticed that thought with the privileges he’d granted himself in their systems, because he took that role instead. “We’re going to feed some dead energy into your spark to–”

He didn’t get further than that before Shockwave cut him off with a, “Stay still.”

“What do you mean dead energy–?!” Sideswipe tried to demand in full alarm, but he couldn’t get further than that before Shockwave activated the device directly above his half of their spark. It came to life to shoot pure electricity into his spark, or at least Sideswipe thought it might’ve been electricity, it sure was something–

But that wasn’t what he could focus on.

There was just the pain.

It burned and he could scarcely even hear his own scream as his very core lit up with agony, and pain of the frame was one thing–

But this was so much more than that. It was his very being that hurt, that cut straight into his emotions, the well of his thoughts, his life–

His back arched off the berth, and bringing his spark closer to the device didn’t help at all, but he didn’t know what to do, couldn’t do anything with the–

And then it ended.

Sort of.

Sideswipe collapsed back onto the berth when their respective devices powered down and were moved away from them both, sobbing—from relief, and from pain, because his spark wouldn’t stop hurting and feeling like it was going to tear itself into so many pieces until there’d be nothing but shreds left–

He was barely aware Sunstreaker was gasping, feeling all the same he was, that it tore at the both of them, their one–

“Merge.”

They focused enough to make sense of Shockwave. There was no inflection to the order.

Sideswipe shook his helm, crying. Their spark felt so raw and adding more energy into the play, even if it was just his own, was the last thing he wanted to do–

“Your spark is destabilizing. You’re dying. Merge,” Shockwave said, sounding absolutely uncaring as he stared at one of the screens that might’ve had their spark readings or something, Sideswipe didn’t know.

Perceptor’s field had flushed with very real anxiety and concern where Shockwave had none to give, but at least the unfeeling scientist’s words were enough to provide some… Motivation. Sideswipe looked to the side but Sunstreaker was staring resolutely at the lights above, trying to survive the agony in their lifeforce—and presumably doomed to fail at that, if they didn’t merge. 

So this was what dying felt like, huh? He could’ve gone without the experience.

But he didn’t want to die. There were still things to live for, and this was an out he didn’t want to take.

He rolled onto his front and heaved himself up, gritting his denta the whole way. It wasn’t his frame that hurt, his frame functioned perfectly, but the pain still threatened to cripple him. His spark throbbed so unevenly, its pulses and rotation stuttering in a way he had never experienced before. It distracted him from the physical world something fierce–

But they were probably on a bit of a timer. He had no idea how long it’d take for a spark to destabilize completely, and how long it would take their spark.

Would merging even fix it, or was Shockwave just grasping at straws? Who the fuck knew. It was sort of their only shot though, wasn’t it?

Sunstreaker reached an arm to help pull him over and Sideswipe barely waited until their chests were even half aligned before he collapsed over his twin. Their halves surged to meet each other before he was even all the way down, wove together, became one, seamless, and…

The pain receded.

They were both shaking, their vents barely functioning, but the tearing stopped. Sideswipe let his forehelm fall against Sunstreaker’s shoulder, feeling the ache in their spark even as things… Evened out. Calmed down.

And they, presumably, stopped dying so actively.

“The pit,” Sideswipe gasped, “was that?” He lifted his helm enough to glare at both Perceptor and Shockwave, as much as he expected Shockwave wouldn’t give a damn.

Perceptor looked apologetic, at least. “The energy approximates a spark merge without the risk of actually bonding two sparks and tests your spark’s response to it. Your reaction was entirely unexpected, I assure you; all sparks respond a little differently, but this?”

Right. So nearly killing them wasn’t the plan. That would’ve sort of gone against Megatron’s orders anyway.

Had to wonder how much trouble Shockwave would’ve been in if they had died.

“Pull back.” Was there no end to the orders? And what was this one for?

That. Shockwave was pulling the same zappy device towards them. Was he seriously trying to kill them?

“No!” Sideswipe said instantly, like any smart person with a sense of self-preservation would’ve, and flattened himself further across Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was growling, hard, his glare beyond vicious.

“Pull back,” Shockwave repeated, still sounding so utterly indifferent. Like he didn’t really care about any of this, about their resistance or their potential death or… Pit, anything.

“Go frag yourself,” Sideswipe snarled.

Defiance. When had that ever worked?

They were locked in a bit of a staring contest before one of the doors into the room opened to admit Lancer and another of Shockwave’s mates they hadn’t seen before. All Shockwave did was nod at the twins, and at once the mates came over—but what for? They couldn’t possibly have strength on him and Sunstreaker, being smaller, slimmer. 

It turned out they didn’t need strength, just speed and deftness, and that they had in spades. “Hey–!” but true to form, no one listened to him. The nameless mate had reached and grabbed his arm before he knew it, and he didn’t have the time to even jerk away before one of his ports had gotten uncovered.

And suddenly Shockwave was there and plugged right in, and pits, his presence in his systems. Shockwave used direct overrides to access exactly what he wanted to access, no detours taken, and–

Severed Sideswipe’s motor controls.

All of them.

His frame immediately fell limp and Sunstreaker started cussing for the both of them, and that was where all of their cooperation ended.

It didn’t matter. Lancer and the other one were fast to grab each of Sunstreaker’s limbs and securely tie them to the berth, as if they’d done this plenty of times before, and once that was done… They, together, lifted Sideswipe’s strutless frame. Shockwave stepped over again and reached between them, doing what they’d done the other day—put his servo between their spark and Sideswipe’s frame, forcing it to disconnect and retreat into Sunstreaker’s chassis only.

Sideswipe’s grey frame was pushed aside, unnecessary.

Sunstreaker snarled and tested the bonds, but they looked to be designed to hold mecha far larger and stronger than him and he got exactly nowhere no matter how he struggled. Shockwave? Had no reactions to give to any of it. Neither did Lancer and the other mate. There was that focus in their fields again, like Chromia had had at the dinner, like… Pits, he didn’t know what to make of it. Were they so task-oriented? How? Why?

Perceptor though, he was different. He was alarmed.

“Get that thing away from me,” Sunstreaker growled when Shockwave unerringly brought the device towards him, clearly intent on trying the whole thing all over again. For what? Did he expect a different outcome, or did he just want to kill them? If merging had saved them, what were they supposed to do when they were already merged?

“Maybe we shouldn’t–” Perceptor tried to say, hovering over them, but once again, he didn’t get to finish.

“Record,” was all Shockwave said, staring directly at Perceptor.

“This isn’t–” Perceptor tried again.

Again Shockwave interrupted him. “Greenlight.”

The other mate, apparently named Greenlight, immediately stepped up, shooed Perceptor away and replaced Perceptor’s jack in Sunstreaker’s medical port with his own. Once he made sure everything relevant was in his reach and available, he nodded at Shockwave.

Impassive, Shockwave brought the device and a scanner to his spark no matter Sunstreaker’s vitriol, and… Activated it all over again.

Sunstreaker grunted when the energy again shot against their spark, and though he feared the worst… That didn’t come to pass. Oh, it wasn’t comfortable and his spark rebelled against the lifeless energy even as it couldn’t escape it–

But there wasn’t the agony. Just discomfort.

Nothing more.

And although Perceptor hadn’t seemed to entirely approve of the whole thing, he now breathed, “Fascinating,” earning a vicious glare from Sunstreaker. It entirely remained that he wasn’t agreeing to any of this, and even when it had looked like Perceptor might care about details like that, clearly his scientific curiosity was winning over. 

It was Sunstreaker’s turn to strongly disapprove. 

“Yeah, great, you didn’t nearly kill us this time,” he growled, venting a sigh of relief when Shockwave turned the zapper off and pushed it aside. 

“Indeed!” Perceptor said, apparently completely missing Sunstreaker’s sarcasm as he hurried over to one of the screens with some readings on it. Sunstreaker couldn’t understand them, but Perceptor sure looked excited. “Your spark’s negative reaction to dead energy when split… Has that ever been recorded before, Shockwave, do you know? But to get a near opposite reaction when you’re merged! I hypothesize that trying to merge with another spark separately would kill you, although we need to go over these readings to find out the reason why—but equally it looks like your spark’s reaction falls into perfectly normal ranges when merged–”

He prattled on further but Sunstreaker tuned that out, judging Shockwave to be a greater concern when the scientist brought more measuring devices of various sorts to their spark and took whatever readings. Many, many more readings. Lancer and Greenlight lingered too, following Shockwave’s instructions to the letter without hesitation even as Perceptor seemed fully distracted by the screens—and was he still ranting? Primus.

The rest had already happened, but when Shockwave took something small, small enough to fit into his spark chamber, and tried to insert it there, Sunstreaker rebelled.

Or tried to, very unsuccessfully seeing he was tied down and whatnot. “The pit is that?” he demanded, but no amount of tugging or squirming would discourage Shockwave.

At least he got an answer out of the mech, for once. “A monitor.”

Just not a very useful answer. Monitor for what?

When he asked this time, no one responded. The little thing was installed into his spark chamber, and then the same was done to Sideswipe’s frame on top having his motor controls reestablished.

Once that was done, they untied him. “Split,” Shockwave ordered him.

Sunstreaker snarled. “No.” Mostly for the sake of it, honestly; he wouldn’t have had anything against having his second frame functional right then.

“Split, or you will be split,” Shockwave said. An ultimatum, huh? So which would be rather have, doing the whole damn thing himself when he at least had some experience at it no matter how inelegant they made it–

Or have someone who had most likely never successfully split a spark do it for him?

Did he really want to have his spark prodded at even more? 

No, he’d rather avoid what he could. Sunstreaker glared, but nevertheless moved over to Sideswipe, straddling his brother’s frame and pulling their spark apart until he had one half to push into the grey frame, the other to keep to himself.

Sideswipe’s chestplates slammed shut before life properly returned to him, and when he onlined good and proper, it was with a growl. Not like he had forgotten what had happened.

Shockwave didn’t seem to care at all. “Lancer, return them to their quarters,” was all he said before he accepted their data from Greenlight and left.

Sideswipe wiped at the tear stains on his cheeks before they both got off the berth and, without a fight, followed Lancer. That… Hadn’t been so mighty pleasant. They’d gotten to merge, sure, but pits, they hadn’t wanted it to be because of something like that.

At least it sort of confirmed their theory that they could function pretty normally even when merged. They hadn’t gotten distracted this time like they had before, though hopefully it wouldn’t need to be just situations that registered as highly dangerous that would manage that. 

And they still had however many days of this?

Pits.

“What’s the monitors for?” Sideswipe asked once they were at their door.

“Your spark had a pretty extreme reaction to the fake merge,” Lancer answered as he opened the door and they went inside. “It seems to be fine now, but it’s better to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t destabilize again.”

Was he sulking? Sideswipe was definitely sulking, and he didn’t even feel like trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah, Megatron would probably be real unhappy if something happened to us,” he grumbled, plopping himself down onto the berth with more force than necessary. Sunstreaker sat down next to him. 

Primus forbid someone other than Megatron himself hurt them. He could rape and slag them all he wanted, but the moment someone else tried to do what he did? Lines drawn, big time.

Ugh.

“I imagine so, yeah,” Lancer agreed. “Try to unwind for now though, okay? That was pretty rough.”

With that he left and they were once again locked in their tiny ass room that was getting more claustrophobic by the hour. 

They sat in silence for a minute or two before Sideswipe broke the silence with a simple, “Wanna merge?”

Sunstreaker nodded, and merge they did—just to try to wash away even some of what had happened.

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

The next day, again, nothing happened, Shockwave presumably busy with all the data he’d gathered from them.

But every day after that, there was something. They didn’t cooperate half the time, anymore, not when some of the things got increasingly outlandish. Sometimes they were made to merge, other times held separate, many a time Shockwave separated them without even giving them the chance to do it themselves. There were sharp objects, blunt objects, samples taken, the limits of what their spark and its ability to split could withstand truly tested to the last.

More often than not, it hurt. Nothing compared to the whole incident with dead energy, but it still hurt. It wasn’t the last time Shockwave used the zappy thing on them, either, though he never again did so separately at full force—but he did feed smaller amounts of energy into their spark even when they were split, just to test how much they could withstand before their spark started to destabilize all over again.

It never got so bad as the first time, but that wasn’t much of a comfort. 

They had so many wires attached to them, too. To their chest, primarily, as Shockwave went about trying to uncover all of the secrets of their spark and recorded everything he could about everything he did. Their heads weren’t left alone either, usually one of the mates always keeping an eye on what their frames thought about what was done to their spark at any given moment. 

Oh, and all the times they didn’t agree to keep their chestplates open, only for Shockwave to then jam them open. Sometimes there was a see-through pane involved too, when he wanted to sort of protect their spark from the outside world while still being able to visually observe it.

Wasn’t that just so kind of him. 

None of it was pleasant and a few times they honestly feared he’d pushed too far and caused permanent damage, and… Slag, when they were left alone they spent more time merged than separate, now, trying to assure themselves they were fine, that their spark was fine despite everything Shockwave put it through. That was mostly true. Physically they didn’t think he was doing anything that they wouldn’t recover from.

But wasn’t the story always that physically they could recover from everything that was done to them here in the palace, in Kaon, but that matters were quite different as far as their damned emotions went. Sideswipe spent an increasing amount of time crying, not just from the physical pain that sometimes grew to truly uncomfortable extents, but also from the… Helplessness. As ever. If they fought, Shockwave would just have them restrained to whatever point was necessary for him to go through with everything he wanted to do to them without interruptions. 

They didn’t see Perceptor again, and they had to wonder if that was because their disagreement with what was happening grew more vehement and their lack of consent ever more obvious. Perceptor had seemed like the type to care about details like that, where Shockwave definitely didn’t, and where his mates followed his lead. 

They were just as powerless here as they ever were with Megatron. They couldn’t even say they were very surprised by that, but it still… Hurt. 

And no one gave a damn.

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

It was exactly a full orn later that Shockwave finished with another round of doing whatever to their damn spark. Sideswipe was panting hard, his vents wheezing as he tried to center himself after having his spark toyed with—what was it this time, testing how their spark reacted to separation from the frame. After having his half pulled out of chest who knew how many times, every time to the point his frame greyed out… Yeah, excuse him if he wasn’t feeling the greatest. 

Sunstreaker wasn’t much better off. He wasn’t even growling anymore, his optics tightly closed where Sideswipe was instead staring at the bright lights, letting them blind him.

Lancer moved to remove their restraints—that by now had severely worn off their paint from the affected areas—first the ones holding their spark chambers and chestplates open. The moment those were gone both of their chassis slammed back shut so fast it hurt.

But it was still an intense relief, despite the sting.

Neither of them got up right away after their limbs were freed, still reeling a little too badly. However, then Chromia entered the room, and what Shockwave said next was right the thing to bring some more life to them. “Return them to Lord Megatron’s harem.”

They both stilled from disbelief, just for a time before Sideswipe shot to sitting and Sunstreaker leveraged himself onto his elbows. They stared at Shockwave first, as much as the scientist’s back was turned to them, before their attention moved to Chromia.

“Yes, master,” the blue mech said with a small bow, then turned their way and requested their compliance. 

Normally that would’ve been about the point where they told everyone to go frag themselves, but… Was it over? Was this over? Could they go back to the relative safety of the harem and not have to worry about Shockwave anymore?

Pits, they wanted to. They’d wanted to for quite a while now, and with unparalleled eagerness they both jumped off the berths and followed Chromia out of the room—a little unsteadily at first, but they regained their bearings little by little as they went through the corridors and doors, past even more doors, until they’d left Shockwave’s… Area of the palace entirely. Or what they assumed was the portion of the palace that belonged to Shockwave exclusively. 

Things were silent for a time, but once they were closing in on the elevators and their relief increased with every step away from Shockwave they took, Sideswipe’s curiosity got the better of him. “What’s Perceptor’s deal?”

Chromia glanced at him, but answered as readily as he had before. “I assume you mean he doesn’t look too Kaonite? He isn’t. He was brought in because of his scientific proficiency, though I’m not privy to what about him exactly caught the Lords’ attention.”

‘Brought in’? “Did he come… Willingly?” Sideswipe asked carefully.

Chromia smiled at him. “With how protected we keep our city, not many outsiders understand the honor coming to Kaon is. They do with time, though.”

So… No, Perceptor most likely hadn’t come willingly. They had to wonder how close to ‘understanding what an honor it is’ Perceptor was. Shockwave didn’t exactly seem to treat him with a lot of respect, but just as much it hadn’t looked like Perceptor was actively unhappy with being there. He’d looked downright excited at places.

Had to wonder how long he’d been in Kaon and how he had acted when first arriving.

Sideswipe would’ve asked more about it if the elevator doors hadn’t opened to reveal it already had an occupant.

“Lord Onslaught,” Chromia bowed immediately, before he stepped into the elevator anyway, no hesitation.

The twins sure hesitated before Sunstreaker steeled their spark and stepped inside too, Sideswipe following a step behind him.

Then the doors closed and the elevator continued up, with them stuck in the relatively small space with the tank—whose amusement filled the elevator. It was probably their unease that he found entertaining.

“Have you recovered yet, Sunstreaker?” Onslaught asked without much fanfare. Of course, there was no real concern about him. He was just continuing what he’d done at the dinner.

Except this time Sunstreaker didn’t have anything to throw at him. 

Likely for the best, honestly.

Instead of attacking Onslaught with objects or liquids, Sunstreaker contented himself with just one hateful glare before he turned away to ignore him, intent on showing as much disrespect as he possibly could. If Motormaster’s case was anything to go by, Onslaught himself wouldn’t be able to do anything about him anyway. 

Onslaught chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Knock Out is quite good at what he does.”

Then, with a glance at their frames, their scuffed portions in particular, “I hear Shockwave got his hands on you, too.”

They stayed silent. He continued, “Spark splitting—now there is a useful ability. Imagine the applications. Doubling the amount of soldiers while granting the pairs a connection that surpasses that of bonded pairs, even bonded twins. Am I wrong? If Shockwave succeeds… My, you would have truly served Kaon, no doubt even earning yourselves a mention in the history books.

“Think of it. Thanks to you, no one could combat Kaon’s elite army. Unified Cybertron and its Prime could never threaten us again.”

Threaten them? When was the last time that had even happened? After Zeta’s failed conquest, how many times had Free Cybertron actually tried to take Kaon?

Obviously they’d failed even if they’d tried, but they honestly didn’t know if there had been smaller wars since the Unification. 

And still… Even speaking of such an advantage, Onslaught didn’t word things as if Kaon would have wanted to go on warpath against the rest of Cybertron. Were they really, honestly that content to just be left alone, or was Onslaught leaving things out?

“I really couldn’t care less about whatever benefits Kaon,” Sunstreaker couldn’t keep himself from growling despite his earlier intent to just ignore the damn mech, even as he still stubbornly didn’t look at Onslaught—whose field burst with amusement, while Chromia’s edged with… Disapproval?

Well, frag Chromia too.

“You should. You are Kaonite now, yourself,” Onslaught disagreed.

This time Sunstreaker glared as well as snarled at him. “Never.”

Onslaught chuckled again, although the sound was cut off when Sideswipe blurted a question before he could stop himself. “Do you uh, have a harem?” Change of topic, anyone?

“I do indeed,” the tank confirmed easily, apparently not taking offense from that either. “One that I share with my team.”

Team? “...How big is your team?”

“There’s five of us.”

Five mecha sharing one harem? He could only hope they had enough mates that… No one got overworked.

Oh, Primus.

Sideswipe swallowed, but still asked further. “Are you the leader?”

“Of my team, yes.”

He had to wonder how high Onslaught ranked overall, though it was probably… Pretty high, all things considered. 

“Cool,” Sideswipe said lamely and things lapsed back into silence until the elevator came to a stop—one floor below their final destination. 

Onslaught stepped out to a bow from Chromia. “Stay safe,” he drawled in parting before he set down the hall to destinations unknown. The elevator doors closed, they traveled up one more floor, and then they were back to the level of Megatron’s wing and his harem.

Chromia led them out and through the relatively short walk to the harem wing’s doors. Soundwave was standing outside, by all appearances waiting for them.

“Lord Soundwave.” Chromia bowed at him too.

“Dismissed,” was all Soundwave acknowledged that with as if he was a Shockwave copy or something, and Chromia bowed again before giving them a smile and then going right back the way they came.

Leaving them alone with Shockwave. Oh, and the two guards standing at the doors but decidedly not opening them, but the guards barely counted.

They didn’t need to wait for long for what Soundwave was here for. “Experiments went well?”

And… That was what he wanted to know? Sideswipe huffed. “I guess, aside from him nearly killing us. But we didn’t die all the way, so yaaaay.” No one would probably care that it all had sucked in so many other ways too.

Soundwave’s visor flashed, and that was about the most reaction they’d ever seen out of the mech. “Permanent damage?”

“Not as far as we know, no?”

“Why do you care?” Sunstreaker growled, glaring all proper where Sideswipe was mostly just miffed.

“Megatron concerned,” came Soundwave’s answer.

And that… Was a bit concerning in its own right. “...Were there that good chances Shockwave would’ve gone too far?” Sideswipe asked carefully.

The fact Soundwave didn’t say anything was probably answer enough.

So. Megatron had entirely and knowingly risked their life, just for the sake of knowledge. Which… Honestly, wasn’t surprising. They hadn’t expected they meant that much to the tyrant to begin with, and if the whole split-spark deal was as useful as everyone made it out to be, what kind of a tradeoff was it to possibly lose a couple of mates and gain an entire army? Megatron would’ve been dumb as hell to not take that risk, even if he’d have preferred them alive.

Sideswipe’s shoulders slumped. It made sense, but it still wasn’t a nice feeling that their life was valued to be that… Insignificant. Not worthless, really, because if Shockwave succeeded then it would’ve been worth it for the powers that be. A loss for the twins, but not really anyone else.

And who cared about the twins?

...He just wanted to be out of here. No one had given a damn about his life on the streets either, but at least there he’d been in charge of it.

Here no one gave a damn and he was completely at the mercy of another.

“Can we go?” Sideswipe asked, voice quiet as he glanced longingly at the harem’s closed doors. He didn’t see Soundwave’s nod, but Sunstreaker did–

And then the guards opened the doors. 

They didn’t hurry in, but it was a close thing.

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