#frag that I'm not changing it in the story- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babyrdie · 1 month ago

Note

What do you think will happen to Deidameia and Neoptolemus in your genderbent Patrochilles universe

Oh, girl, you better be ready. I made, like, a whole story to justify Neoptolemus' existence while keeping similar themes to the original while also considering the gender changes. It’s a LOT of text. First of all, I know that most people would rather get rid of Deidamia, make Achilles dislike her or make her a friend he's never had a sexual relationship with, but that's not my case. I like exploring polyamorous dynamics. And just as I normally consider Deidamia and Achilles, I'm going to consider them in this universe as well. So yeah, probably something that those who don't like polyamory shipps won't like this headcanon post. Secondly, there may be writing errors as the text is very long and I'm not fluent in English. Third, Phyrra has some attitudes that can be seen as questionable, but it is intentional.

The thing is: I think Neoptolemus is still necessary. Achilles' prophecy wasn’t about him destroying Troy, as Apollo makes clear when he knocks Patroclus off the walls of Troy while saying that not even Achilles is destined to enter it (and he does die beforehand), but about him being a great warrior who would prove himself in Troy. Yes, the Greeks wanted him, but because of the great warrior part and not because he was prophesied to be the cause of the fall of Troy (indirectly, he did end up being, but there is nothing to indicate that without Achilles there wouldn’t have been other means as far as I know. For example, Diomedes, Odysseus, Big Ajax etc were also indirectly the cause of the fall of Troy but they weren’t prophesied as obligatory participants). So Achilles not being in the war changes A LOT, but not necessarily the result. That is, the way Troy is destroyed is changed, but in the end it’s still destroyed.

“[...] For my mother tells me, the goddess Thetis of the silver feet, that two fates carry me to death’s end; if I remain here to fight around the city of the Trojans, my return home is lost, but my glory will be undying; but if I go home to the beloved land of my father, outstanding glory will be lost to me, but my life will be long, nor will death’s end come on me swiftly. [...]”

The Iliad, 9.410-416. Translation by Caroline Alexander.

As stated, I’m not considering this prophecy for Phyrra. This is because, as already explained in another post, the prophecy explicitly states that Thetis has a SON, something that Phyrra isn’t. Phyrra is a daughter. Therefore Phyrra is far from Achilles' problems, she doesn’t have to choose between living a long obscure life or a short glorious life. But Neoptolemus? He and Philoctetes were explicitly prophesied by Helenus or Calchas (usually Helenus) as essential to the fall of Troy. Some examples:

[...] Next Odysseus lies in wait and catches Helenus, who prophesies as to the taking of Troy, and Diomede accordingly brings Philoctetes from Lemnos. Philoctetes is healed by Machaon, fights in single combat with Alexandrus and kills him: the dead body is outraged by Menelaus, but the Trojans recover and bury it. After this Deiphobus marries Helen, Odysseus brings Neoptolemus from Scyros and gives him his father's arms, and the ghost of Achilles appears to him. [...]

The Little Iliad, frag 1. Translation by H.G. Evelyn-White.

NEOPTOLEMUS: If that man comes to Troy, how do I benefit? ODYSSEUS: The only way the city can be captured is with his bow and arrows. NEOPTOLEMUS: So I am not the one who'll take that city, as you told me? ODYSSEUS: Yes, but you need them, and they need you.

Philoctetes, 138-141. Translation by Ian Johnston.

So speaking, in his place he sat him down; then rose up Thestor's son, and in the midst, where meet it is to speak, stood forth and cried: "Hear me, ye sons of battle-biding Greeks: ye know I have the spirit of prophecy. Erewhile I said that ye in the tenth year should lay waste towered Ilium: this the Gods are even now fulfilling; victory lies at the Argives' very feet. Come, let us send Tydeides and Odysseus battle-staunch with speed to Scyros overseas, by prayers hither to bring Achilles' hero son: a light of victory shall he be to us."

Posthomerica, 7.62-74. Translation by A.S. Way.

[...] The Greeks received an oracle that Ilium would not be destroyed earlier, unless they took the bones of Pelops from Elis. An oracle fell to bring the cotyledons of Pelops and the bow of Heracles, which Philoctetes had to Greece, and Neoptolemus the son of Achilles, since otherwise they would not be able to destroy Ilium. [...]

Ad Lycophronem, § 54.

He wasn’t wanted because he’s the son of Achilles. If that were so, why didn't the Greeks go and get Telemachus and Orestes, for example? No, he was sought out specifically because it was prophesied. Therefore, I believe that Neoptolemus must still exist since his presence in Troy is something immutable if the fate is to be the same. For that reason, I necessarily had to change Deidamia's gender so that she would follow Achilles' gender change and thus they could have a child. I have a name for a man Deidamia, by the way. I'm going to call Deidamia Daimen, a variant of the name Damon. The reason, besides starting with D, is that both are theorized to have derived from δαμάζειν (damazein) "to tame" from what I've researched (1, 2, 3). I chose the variant Daimen over Damon simply because I think it more closely resembles Deidamia.

Anyway, if Pyrrha DOESN'T need to hide in Skyros, how could she have a child with Daimen? Initially, I thought about having them get married somehow and then have Neoptolemus, but that would conflict with Neoptolemus' age in the the Tojan War. He's already very young in the mythology originally, but this way he would be EVEN younger. In a vague timeline, Pseudo-Apollodorus says that Achilles was 15 when he joined the Achaean army and generally the duration of the Trojan War is 10 years (I say generally because there are timelines that put the total at 20 years), with the tenth year being when Neoptolemus and Philoctetes are sought and the year in which Achilles dies. Therefore, I generally consider that Achilles dies around 25 years, since I don't consider time for things like travel time and etc etc because otherwise it would be an infinite calculation. Not even the ancient Greeks made a point of considering it, so why would I? Anyway, the marriageable age for women in Mycenaean Greece is unknown as far as I know, although one of the oldest sources is from Archaic Greece and belongs to Hesiod:

Hesiod Works and Days, lines 695-705. The poet advises that a girl should be given in marriage four years after her first period (which occurs at around age thirteen to fourteen). On this point cf. Brulé 1987: 361 ff.

The age of love: gender and erotic reciprocity in archaic Greece, by Sandra Boehringer and Stefano Caciagli and translated by Anne Stevens.

In Gregory Nagy's translation, the passage referred to is as follows:

Make sure that you are the right age [seasonal, having the right hōrā] when you bring home a wife to your house, when you are not much less than thirty years old nor much more than that. This is a seasonal marriage. The wife should have four years after puberty, and then she can marry in the fifth year. Marry a virgin, so that you may teach her the ways of affection. Try your hardest to marry someone who lives near you. And take a good look all around you, so that you will not marry someone who will become the occasion for jokes by your neighbors. There is no better possession for a man than a wife who is good. And there is nothing worse than a bad one, one who sneaks away the dinner for herself. The man, no matter how strong he may be, is burned out by the fire of such a woman. No need for a torch! And she brings him to a raw old age.

In other words, the age recommended by Hesiod is 18 years old. However, I will not consider 18 years old as the minimum age for the relationship between Phyrra and Daimen. After all, Neoptolemus himself in Greek mythology was conceived when both Achilles and Deidamia were ridiculously young. In the case of Pseudo-Apollodorus, for example, just think that Achilles left Skyros at 15 and got Deidamia pregnant before that... he was really very young when he became a father. The fake marriage between Achilles and Iphigenia also happens when both are really young, just see how both are portrayed as very inexperienced in Iphigenia in Aulis by Euripides. Achilles is so socially awkward that he doesn't know how to behave with Clytemnestra and Iphigenia is so childish that she wants Agamemnon to play with her and Orestes. And while ancient sources indicate that men tended to marry around the age of 30 (something Hesiod himself also mentions), we have mythological examples of male characters who married considerably younger than that, such as Perseus. Clearly mythology doesn’t follow social rules strictly.

It would have been possible to have Phyrra get married at 15 because that's not uncommon...in fact, Iphigenia probably wasn't much older than that when she got falsely engaged to Achilles, and Deidamia herself is married to Achilles in some sources before he left Skyros. But I wanted something more dynamic. So no post-wedding Neoptolemus, and I came up with another idea instead. First, I wanted to keep the interesting Phyrra/Achilles gender confusion idea from the original myth of the Achilles hiding on Skyros episode, because I like the idea of Deidamia being interested in Achilles even though she thinks he's a girl, and I wanted Daimen to be interested in Phyrra even though she thinks he's a boy. I also wanted to keep the early pregnancy and pre-wedding themes that the original has, although this time with the roles reversed since Phyrra is the one who's pregnant. And yes, Thetis still has a role in this.

In another of my posts, I explained that I imagined Phyrra and Cleopatra traveling and dealing with various things and gaining fame because of it. They traveled alone, although they had Balius and Xanthus at Peleus' request, and Thetis kept an eye on them as a precaution whenever possible. However, around the time the Greeks were recruiting suitors, Phyrra felt tempted to go after glory. Knowing that she couldn't take Cleopatra with her (since, unlike Patroclus, she doesn't fight), she gave up and chose not to go to war. As the days passed, however, Phyrra's decision became uncertain and she considered leaving. She thought that, well, this war couldn’t last that long. She would soon be back with Cleopatra, but with more fame. Noticing that Phyrra was going back on her decision, Thetis wanted to prevent that. Although there was no prophecy of death, as in the case of Achilles, she was still very mortal. Thetis then convinced Phyrra to first live alone with Cleopatra for a while, so that she would certainly see if the decision was worth it (yes, Thetis knew about them). Then Thetis came up with the following idea:

Phyrra and Cleopatra must leave Balius and Xanthus on Pelion, where Chiron will take charge of their care. They cannot take the horses with them, as they would be recognized because divine horses aren’t exactly common. They also cannot return to Phthia to leave the horses with Automedon, who was normally in charge of them in Phthia (during their journeys, it was Cleopatra), since Peleus would be worried if they were to travel without them and would want to know what they intended to do, which would disrupt the plan. With Chiron, they would be well looked after and, on the way back, the idea was to stop by Pelion to recover them and continue to Phthia with them, as if they had never deviated from the usual journey.

They must go to an island, as there would be less chance of being discovered since there would be fewer people to recognize them since they would not have been to the island. Skyros, conveniently, is an island. To facilitate the process, it was possible to have the help of Thetis, who can transport them with the sea animals that the Nereids keep as company (in mythology, they are usually dolphins and seahorses).

In Skyros, where no one knows them, Phyrra will pretend to be a boy, as it would be more convincing for her to be a boy than Cleopatra. Since Phyrra's masculine form, Phyrrus, would be too obvious a fake name, she named herself Achilles because Peleus once commented that this would be the name if the baby were a boy. Cleopatra named herself Myrto (this is a reference to a version of the myth in which Patroclus has a sister named Myrto. If I'm not mistaken, Plutarch was the one who mentioned her).

If they stay long enough on Skyros to get Peleus' attention, Thetis will have one of the informants give Peleus and Phoenix false information about Cleopatra and Phyrra being somewhere on the mainland healing someone, as is their custom. There is no way to tell Peleus the truth, as he doesn’t know about Cleopatra and Phyrra's relationship and it would be difficult to explain why staying on Skyros would keep Phyrra away from the war.

Phyrra didn't tell Cleopatra the reason for this (she didn't want Cleopatra to think that Phyrra didn't care about her), but Thetis had already spoken to Cleopatra because she knew that she would help her with this. So, while normally Cleopatra would think this plan was crazy, she accepted the idea since she knew the real intention was to prevent Phyrra from going to war.

It wasn’t hard to find a place to stay in Skyros, since Phyrra had money easily. They stayed there for a while, pretending to be a young and inexperienced newlywed couple, and Cleopatra even wore a veil most of the time to emphasize her married status. The thing is, in Skyros, the king had several daughters and a son. This son was Daimen, our male version of Deidamia. Being the eldest, Daimen was particularly affectionate with his sisters, but he also missed male company. Because of this, he would occasionally leave the palace to go for walks, taking the opportunity to interact with other boys and, if possible, buy something for his sisters.

During his visits, he met Cleopatra and Phyrra. This was because Cleopatra argued that it would look suspicious for a young, supposedly non-wealthy couple to never be seen working. Phyrra then took up work as a fisherman, which was not difficult because her proximity to the water made her excellent at water-related skills such as fishing, swimming, and sailing. Then, they both cut the fish properly, something Phyrra had learned from Chiron and taught Cleopatra. The fish would then be sold at the market, with Cleopatra taking care of talking to the customers because she was better with people while Phyrra kept track of the prices. In addition to fish, they would catch any other sea creatures they could find and they also began making accessories with shells.

Daimen eventually befriended the two, fully believing that they were an unexpectedly young straight couple. He saw Cleopatra as someone to give him tips on what to buy for his sisters and Phyrra as a guy his own age to interact with. The problem is that, as time went on, there was a sort of pseudo-flirtation and this caused Daimen to have a sort of sexual crisis because, in his mind, he was interested in a guy. Cleopatra wasn't jealous, in fact she was worried that Phyrra would get too close and end up ruining the plan. People weren't exactly receptive to two girls in a romantic relationship. Daimen seemed nice, but who could guarantee his reaction? But, well, Phyrra is still as impulsive and sentimental as ever and Daimen recovered from the crisis only to discover that it was the most useless crisis of his life since Phyrra was actually a girl. Well, at one point they were alone and it happened. It was only once, but unfortunately for both of them, Phyrra got pregnant. Cleopatra wanted Phyrra to marry Daimen, because it wouldn't be good if they found out that Phyrra had gotten pregnant without a husband, but Phyrra didn't want to be a wife or a mother. Calling Thetis, they then fled Skyros. Daimen didn't know that she was pregnant, so it was as if they disappeared out of nowhere.

Phyrra wanted to go to Pelion as she saw Chiron as a comforting figure, but Thetis didn't think it was a good idea because Peleus was close to Chiron and he might visit Pelion and end up discovering the pregnancy, which Thetis was determined to help hide to avoid bad press for her daughter. When she thought that the moment in Skyros would make Phyrra unable to go to war, that wasn't what she was thinking. I imagine that she took Phyrra and Cleopatra to some island, although I don't have a specific one in mind, and together with the Nereids she followed the months of pregnancy until the moment of birth. Obviously Peleus was worried because they never took so long to appear in Phthia, but Thetis always informed him that they were fine and, since Thetis was known as a protector mother, it seemed strange to doubt her in this regard. Eventually, Neoptolemus was born (by this time, the Greeks were already on the expedition against Troy and Phyrra was already about 15 years old). She, however, still didn’t want to be a mother. Thetis knew what it was like to be committed to an unwanted pregnancy, and although in her case she ended up loving the child, she felt that she shouldn’t think that the same would happen to Phyrra. So she took Neoptolemus to Skyros, where she met Daimen secretly and revealed that the young woman was Phyrra, princess of Phthia, and that she had been missing because she had had a son and she showed Neoptolemus to him.

Daimen was angered and frustrated by Phyrra's attitude, but agreed to keep Neoptolemus while keeping the identity of the child's mother a secret. Luckily for them, Neoptolemus looked more like Daimen than Phyrra. He then named him Phyrrus, claiming it was because the boy had red hair like his (Phyrrus is a name that refers to red hair) when in fact it was to remember the frustration of having gotten involved with what he thought was the wrong girl at the wrong time in the wrong way. So, just as Deidamia had to raise Neoptolemus without Achilles because he left her for the glory of war, Daimen had to raise Neoptolemus without Phyrra because she left him to continue living her adventures. Lycomedes and Daimen's sisters helped and Thetis visited them too, although discreetly so that no one would suspect the identity of Phyrrus' mother.

Phyrra spent time recovering before returning to Phthia, where, despite her dislike of lying, she had to lie about various adventures to justify her being away for over a year. She didn’t travel again for a while, as it seemed unfair to her to leave Peleus so soon. Cleopatra was still uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the child, but didn’t try to dissuade Phyrra. She tried to rationalize that at least he would grow up as a prince on Skyros.

When Phyrra was about 18 and Cleopatra was about 21, there were official suitors. Phyrra is a princess, so she has no claim to the throne in the way a male heir would. Peleus needs her married. Sure, Peleus has another daughter, Polydora, who was his daughter with Antigone (first marriage. Not to be confused with the daughter of Oedipus), but this Polydora had already become a princess consort in another kingdom and could not be used as a means of securing a son-in-law heir. Phyrra was initially reluctant to marry. Most of the time, getting married means taking on responsibilities like a home and children, which would prevent her from running around in the woods while hunting. It’s no wonder that huntresses in Greek mythology avoided these types of relationships. That’s exactly why she abandoned Neoptolemus, after all (although Thetis, at her request, updated her on Phyrrus’s growth). However, the council would insist that this decision be made and it would be hard to keep rejecting this for too long. So Cleopatra came up with a plan: try to trick the suitors by asking them to do something impossible. Since no one will do it, she won’t get married. Remembering how Atalanta and Oenomaus (father of Hippodamia, Pelops’s wife) made the suitors (in Atalanta’s case, hers. In Oenomaus’s case, his daughter’s) compete for something and, if they lost, they would be killed, Phyrra tried the same thing. Phyrra's hand would be won by the one who managed to score more points than her in the following events: running, wrestling, archery, chariot racing, and quoit. Since there were 5 of them and therefore an odd number, there was no way to tie the results. You either won and got married or lost and died. The problem was that at least two of these sports were guaranteed to Phyrra: running, since she was very fast, and chariot racing, since she had divine horses (Balius and Xanthus) in the competition. But while it was still possible to beat her in wrestling, archery and quoit, it's not like it was an easy task either. Having learned to hunt from a young age on Pelion and keeping the habit, she had great aim. She had also learned wrestling from Thetis (Thetis actually knows how to wrestle. There are representations of it on pottery) so again not an easy task. The result is that inevitably the suitors were killed.

[For context: Atalanta made the suitors race against her and killed everyone who lost. Since she was faster, she always won and always killed the losers. The only one who managed to marry her was Melanion, because he asked Aphrodite for help. The goddess gave him golden apples to throw along the way and Atalanta kept bending down to pick them up, which slowed her down and made her lose the race. As for Oenomaus, he was a demigod of Ares who challenged his daughter's suitors to a chariot race and killed everyone who lost. He lost when Pelops managed to convince Oenomaus' charioteer, Myrtilus, to sabotage his chariot in exchange for a bribe.]

Although Cleopatra had suggested doing something impossible, she hadn’t exactly suggested it. She thought Phyrra was overreacting with her decision to kill everyone who lost, but Phyrra was proud and saw the mere idea that these people genuinely thought they could beat her as an insult. Something like “well, he thought he could outdo me. I’ll make sure he never has the slightest thought of that again.” Cleopatra had hoped that perhaps, seeing how Phyrra was acting, the suitors would give up and the ridiculous situation would stop. However, Phyrra was immensely beautiful, having taken after her goddess mother, had incredible abilities and great wealth, and therefore wasn’t really a potential bride that people would ignore.

Hearing about this, Daimen asked his family to take care of Phyrrus, now a small child, because he was going to visit Phthia. Lycomedes thought that he might try to be a suitor, so he made him promise not to offer himself, already knowing how Phyrra killed losers. But this wasn’t Daimen's idea, so he calmly promised that he was just curious to see if the young princess was really that impressive and would take the opportunity to go to new places and promised to bring something for his sisters and Phyrrus. He was welcomed by Peleus, after all he was a prince, and the situation was strange. Phyrra was desperate at the idea of him telling anyone what had happened, while Cleopatra actually saw this as a plan. After long days of strange encounters in the hallway, of fights in private rooms (“you came, made me question who I was, then revealed that I didn’t even know who you were, then you disappeared, then a goddess came back with a child, then you didn’t want me or the child, and then you went to get the fame you so desire by defeating bandits, facing centaurs and who knows what the gods know”), of venting between four walls (“Cleopatra, I don’t hate my son. I just don’t want to be trapped inside a room with a child in my arms. He said I didn’t need to get married, that I just needed to keep in touch and be honest. But what am I going to do, keep sending messages?”), Cleopatra finally conviced Phyrra of an idea.

Daimen already knew that they were two women in a relationship and not only did he not tell anyone, but he apparently didn't care. He already had a son with Phyrra and, although their relationship was currently bad, it had once been good. He had fallen in love with her thinking she was a boy, so he would supposedly be prepared to have a relationship with someone who had typical male duties. She thought that if Phyrra agreed to marry Daimen, then she could have the heir that the council was pressuring her for, Phyrrus, the freedom to continue doing what she liked to do and she could still maintain her relationship with Cleopatra, since Daimen would offer the security that Phyrra was already committed to a man while she could have Cleopatra at the same time. Convincing Daimen was a little more difficult. He grew up thinking about staying in Skyros, because, as the only son and the eldest, it was natural that he would succeed Lycomedes. But if he were to marry Phyrra to fulfill Peleus's demand for an heir, he would have to rule Phthia together with her. But he managed to convince himself with the idea that it was impossible for Lycomedes to be dissatisfied with Daimen getting a wife of Phyrra's caliber, especially since Skyros was an island that wasn’t politically prosperous and such an alliance would be immensely valuable.

They ended up getting married without Daimen having to challenge Phyrra (she refused to lose in front of everyone on purpose, too much humiliation for her), it was very convenient for the three. Daimen and Phyrrus moved to Phthia. At one point, it was revealed that Phyrrus was in fact Phyrra's and not some bastard son. Since she was already married to the child's father, it wasn't as controversial as it would have been. Phyrra loved Phyrrus, but she was really... complicated as a mother. Thetis and Cleopatra took better care of him, at least. Phyrrus was then raised with a lot of love, a rather protected child, although not in a very traditional family. When he was 10 years old (Phyrra was 25, Daimen was 26, Cleopatra was 28), Odysseus appeared promising glory and claiming that he was destined for it. Daimen didn't want to let Phyrrus go because he was certainly too young, just as Deidamia didn't want to let him in Posthomerica. However, Phyrra, like Achilles, loves the idea of glory and didn't try to stop him even with Daimen and Cleopatra arguing against it. Phyrrus ended up going with the Myrmidons to Troy, because in his case it’s really necessary for him to go to Troy for the Greeks to win, and was renamed Neoptolemus in reference to being a young warrior (Neoptolemus means New Warrior). He’s different from the canon Neoptolemus in that he is no longer obsessed with following his father's ghost, since here Phyrra raised him and is alive, so I imagine he was a less cruel person. However, I think that growing up he always knew that his demigodess mother gave up great glory for that life, and he wanted to bring home the opportunity for eternal glory that she had to give up. Either way, Neoptolemus continues to be motivated by the idea of making Phyrra/Achilles proud.

So, basically this is what happens with Deidamia and Neoptolemus. Neoptolemus still exists and still wants to make Phyrra/Achilles proud and bring glory, but the context is different. Deidamia is a man, but he still had the problem of Phyrra/Achilles' identity and he was still left with a child because the child's other parent chose the sword and shield/bow and quiver. The reason all this happens is still because Thetis wants to keep Phyrra/Achilles from going to war, not because of the prophecy but because of mortality. I imagine Daimen is a good prince in the managerial sense, but he's not really a great warrior. And having grown up mostly with an old father and younger sisters, Daimen has gotten used to the role of being the caretaker and is even relatively "motherly" and sensitive. He's not a traditional super masculine man, basically. This is also reflected in the fact that he doesn't want glory for his son if it means he'll be alive, whereas the prophesied opportunity for glory would be something many would want for their son. Him not being bothered by Phyrra getting involved with Cleopatra, even though at the time men tended to be very bothered by the idea of their wives having lovers (even when the men in question had lovers), also has to do with him not really feeling the need to reassert authority as much. And Phyrra was the one who trained Phyrrus, not Daimen.

Of course, I have other ideas, but this is a summary to explain what happens with Deidamia and Neoptolemus in the universe. So, for example, details of the relationship dynamics weren’t explained.

#Ask #bisexualandaninsomnia #Patrochilles #Patroclus #Achilles #Deidamia #Achilles x Deidamia #Headcanon #Fem!Patrochilles #Birdie.txt

6 notes · View notes

bellygunnr · 1 year ago

Text

Hanging it All on You

A Transformers OC story. ES-based with G1 elements. Liberties taken. Sawhorse POV first, Firewall POV second.

If you weren't so attuned to the scent of energon, you wouldn't have noticed him. Bumblebee knew how to hide well, though you question the efficacy of such a skill when you're on death's doorstep. You don't even need to be a medic to parse that out. Injuries of all kinds had a scent to them-- and this one was bad.

Still, you don't announce your presence until you're rolling the rock away from the under-bridge tunnel. You take the blaster fire handily, letting your battered shoulders dissipate the worst of it, until he registers the tell-tale markings of a medic. Technically, you weren't supposed to retain these decals, but you kept them on hand. Didn't make Bumblebee look at you with any less suspicion, but he did stop firing.

"You're not Autobot," Bumblebee hisses.

"What gave it away?" You huff, sarcastic. "Let's cut a deal, baby."

You spare him the glare of your lightbar, opting for the low beams across your chest. Bumblebee was in shambles, curled up against the concrete wall, arms cast listlessly in his lap while energon flowed anew from his joints. No doubt from the effort of transforming them into weapons -- what a pain.

"You think I'm just gonna-- make deals? Better off lettin’ me bleed out, 'Con," Bumblebee says, baring his teeth. "I've got buddies on the way, you know."

You roll your optics. The tunnel echoes with the sheer noise of your movement inside. It'd make you claustrophobic, if you still had that defect. Bumblebee doesn't even move as you lumber closer and closer. He must really be injured.

"See, I'm gonna fix you, deal or no deal," you say bluntly, dropping to a crouch. "You're too valuable to die, ain't that right? Aside from that... I think I can change your mind."

Bumblebee's face contorts, conflicted. He doesn't protest as you reach behind your neck and unspool a diagnostic cable, the shielding pitted and burned, simply staring up at you with wide, blue optics. Dim optics. At this distance, you can hear his internals working, most notably a clicking coolant pump.

You're a doctor by trade, of course. For speedsters and modifieds and outliers. Not always a surgeon, but you figure you make a pretty good one now, after millions of years at war. Unfortunately, you didn't kit up for a field op, but...

Wordlessly, Bumblebee turns his right arm over, exposing an open port at his wrist. Before you can jack in, though, he jerks back, plating and doorwings flaring in alarm. Yet, just as quickly, he cringes in pain, knocking his helm back against the wall.

"You can tell me to frag off, you know," you say dryly. "I can just let you bleed out, if you're gonna be ungrateful."

"No, no, no-- I just-- why the port? Can't you just scan me or whatever?"

Bumblebee has the grace to look guilty through the pain warping his body and rolling off his field. Still, you hesitate, cursing yourself for it all the while. You're a doctor-- an enemy, maybe-- but everyone listens to doctors! What kind of medics do the Autobots have if their scout is acting like this?

"I don't have a handheld scanner, so no," you explain patiently. "And just between us? One of your lot damaged my medical suites. We're down to analog, you and I."

This time, he lets you plug in. You push forward nothing but medical requests and your ident-tags. He responds in kind and a klik later you’re analyzing his vitals, from spark integrity to fuel pressure. He taps at the firewalls inside your head, a packet closed within a metaphorical fist.

You brush him aside. <<Were you serious about your backup?>> You ask instead.

He’s a mess. Not as dead as you thought, but his coolant pump is on its way out, no doubt due to the significant physical trauma wrapped around his abdomen. Already, his temperature is ticking up, wicking away the intensity of his self-repair. Hard to think about sealing fuel lines with the radiator threatening to boil, huh.

<<I thought medics were supposed to talk more,>> Bumblebee complains. <<What are you even doing in there?>>

You don’t cease peeling Bumblebee open like an organic crab, but you push apology-guilt into your field while opening a watch-along to your processes. His jaw clenches as he’s now able to watch you file away his topic change for later.

“It’s not overly invasive, don’t be a baby. I’m clamping your lines because you can’t stop bleeding– not your fault— and I’m checking out your cooling system. Half your fans are burned out. Did you get some voltage?”

<<Business end of a power line,>> Bumblebee confesses.

Memories flicker on the peripheral of the hardline connection, most likely of said power line. You ignore them, tying off the last errant line through the first wisps of steam. Absently, you pop open a physical compartment in your abdomen, fishing out a large unmarked tin. The sweet scent of coolant is stronger now, nauseating with the acidic odor of energon already weighing down the air, its source obvious.

<<I’m gonna be real honest, Autobot,>> you start, switching to the silent comm-link, <<I ain’t equipped to handle your wiring. Best I can do is keep your internals from cooking.>>

You’re aware of Bumblebee tracking your every movement. You make a show of wiping off your hands, as if showing off your wide palms and blunted fingertips will put him at ease. Over the link, you push forward images of your intentions.

For some reason, it doesn’t put your patient at ease. But you’re not here to make him feel good so you forge ahead, tarring up the cracks in his radiator and dumping a cube of coolant down his intake. His pump clicks all the while.

Some part of your treatment seems to work. Bumblebee visibly relaxes, but you warn him against moving too suddenly, lest your hard work come undone. His optics brighten marginally and newfound alertness prickles over his field. He makes a weak gesture to the cable running between you both.

“Need to keep observing you,” you say aloud, only slightly admonishing. “Now– that deal. You have something I want.”

Bumblebee jerks forward, expression darkening. “What could I possibly have? I don’t even know who you are!”

“Stop moving!” You snap. “You don’t need to know who I am. You just need to help me find him.”

“I never agreed to the deal,” Bumblebee says, but there’s no fire in it.

He lets his helmet rest back against the wall. You wonder if you misjudged all of the Autobots, or just this one. Aren’t they supposed to be soft? Don’t they like paying back favors? You just saved his life, after all, oath be damned. Did you have to get physical with him?

Primus, his chest was open. You were plugged into his systems (and he, yours). It would be so easy–

Bumblebee is waving his hand in your face. You snap reflexively at his fingers, sharpened fangs scraping across metal planes.

“Fucker, ow,” Bumblebee hisses, snatching his hand back with the whine of a servo. “I said I was gonna help– not my fault you were spacing out, ‘Con.”

Oh. You stare at him, winding back the last thirty seconds of your life. Ah.

“Oh. Well. Good,” you say. “His name’s Firewall. You took him prisoner three local cycles ago. I need him back. Please.”

For a terrifying moment, Bumblebee looks as if he doesn’t recognize the name. Then his field flickers, a mixture of shock and confusion covering bitten-back lethargy and wariness.

“You want that lunatic back?” Bumblebee demands, optics flying wide.

“That lunatic is my conjunx!” You snarl, suddenly witless, frightened. “I need your help, so please– please.”

Begging. You’re disgusted with yourself, but you can’t stand the idea of failing here, not after juking the Decepticon brass and diving headfirst behind enemy lines. You won’t fail here. You’ll show him–

Bumblebee waves a placating hand,vocalizer fritzing. “Hey, hey, hey– I’m not retracting my offer or anything, calm down. Didn’t realize it was so serious.”

It's at that moment the rocks blocking off the opposite end of the tunnel shift. Harsh lights flood inside, followed by two pink chassises. Bumblebee shouts for them not to fire, but you’re already subspacing a handheld saw and jamming it against his throat.

—

The Autobots have a tight ship, at least. Of course, why wouldn’t they? Their base was literally a spaceship. The brig, stuffed in the deepest, lowest section of the hull, is especially tight, with cells reinforced with both force fields and bars, the dimensions just wide enough to accommodate a seeker’s wings. And with your build, that means plenty of room to walk four paces and turn around in a never-ending cycle, so long as you keep your cooling fins and excess blades retracted. Not that you have a choice – the inhibitor claw newly bolted into the back of your neck makes it impossible to even think about a transformation, let alone do it.

So you pace, lurching and lunging back and forth, memorizing the featureless metal box with every pass. Rivets, some missing, most not, line the walls, potential weaknesses if you were the type to notice or exploit such things. You’re not, but your wrists are cross-cuffed, so you especially couldn’t try to make something happen. It’s whatever, really.

That’s what you tell yourself. It’s not a big deal. Just being alive is infinite possibility. You owe it to Sawhorse to behave. Keep your helm down. To hell with your way out, so meticulously planned. You two always worked best when improvising, after all. Maybe this was meant to happen. Serendipity at the business end of an Autobot firing squad. They wouldn’t believe you if you told them, after all, that you were Conjunxed and want to move to Earth-Italy, and would they pretty please let you go so you can stuff yourself inside a box for ninety local cycles and come out a new mech– it’ll be like being a bug, you’d tell them anxiously, like those caterpillars, have you ever seen them, did you ever care to look–

You freeze mid-step. Your thoughts have wandered off. This is a very, very small room. Primus didn’t forge you with cramped spaces in mind. Only the brig warden– well, guard– shifting his plating grounds you back into reality.

His voice carries.

“Didn’t expect you guys back so soon. Is that another–?”

“You’re dismissed, Sunstreaker,” a faintly familiar voice says. “Get some recharge.”

It’s difficult, dredging up the data necessary to place the voice. All your taxed brain can give is a featureless pink visage, which a subroutine helpfully labels as either Arcee or Elita-1. Neither of which you’re eager to meet. Did your reputation even warrant Autobot brass? You puff up your plating and press up against the shimmering bars, stasis cuffs humming in warning.

Footsteps rattle. Shadows loom. You perk up, audials instantly detecting an uneven shuffle, the rhythm of a limp. Something in your spark squeezes, then blooms, a savage thing, the first cut of hope–

“Doctor,” you whisper.

There he is. Half your height but twice as wide, all broad curves and tough rubber edges, dim with the lack of energon, but alive. You shove your helm up against the force-protected bars, howling plaintively when it shocks you– so you keen beseechingly at your captors, up until Sawhorse shakes off his cuffs and grabs the bars, optics cycling to their widest setting.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself doin’ that, baby, come on,” Sawhorse murmurs gently. “It’s okay, we’re okay, we’re gettin’ out– you understand me?”

His words wash over you, but you’re not sure if you understand him, not really. Your thoughts have vanished, processor going scratchy as your brain module happily loops itself into an existence consisting of “Sawhorse” and “Obstructions preventing proximity to Sawhorse.” You snarl threateningly at the Autobots shuffling behind Sawhorse, uncomprehending of both word and action, until the bars and shield drop and your way forward is– open. You lunge.

Big, stout, heavy arms catch your torso and twist your momentum, sending you reeling through the air in listing spins, but it’s okay because it’s your doctor, your Conjunx, cradling you close and stroking dense digits down your back. You tuck your helm underneath his, letting the quiet rumble of his engine soothe you. He unhooks your restraints with quick, practiced motions, muttering sweet nothings just loudly enough your combat protocols stay offline.

“That’s a good one,” Sawhorse continues, soft as a whisper. “You look unhurt– good, I’m glad. Now, we don’t have a lot of time, Firewall, so… Unless… Are you sure Bumblebee will be fine? I can continue–”

“We do have a medical corps,” one of the Autobots says dryly. “As much as we’d love to have you stick around, we are halfway to committing treason–”

“If you insist,” Sawhorse says.

You curl a protective arm around your doctor’s waist. The Autobots cast unreadable expressions upon you, data that your mind files away for processing later. Then they turn around and hurry off.

Bound together, you and Sawhorse follow doggedly. It’s a circuitous route through the fallen Autobot ship, paths and details you should memorize, but you know better than that. You’re leaving this war– trying to pretend otherwise, or save your metal later, undermines the purpose. The only way, now, is this.

Though you have no idea how Sawhorse pulled this off. A breakout is one thing– Autobot command assisting is wholly another.

<<Sawhorse: query,>> you ping over the bonded connection.

<<Firewall: acknowledge,>> he pings back.

<<How did you pull this off?>>

One of the Autobots draws short, a fist clenched in the air beside her. You slide your hand up to grip Sawhorse’s shoulder tire, plating clamping tight to your protoform as everyone stops. The other Autobot, pink and chrome, starts digging into the wall. You quickly reason out why– this is a door you’ve stopped at.

Perhaps your way out?

<<Fixed up a scout. You know the one.>>

<<Oh, Bumblebee?>>

You’ve never had the fortune of meeting the scout on the field. But soldiers talked, rumors spread, and you’re at least tangentially aware Decepticon command wanted him personally. Not even for his successful thievery or intel– but because he meant so much to the Prime.

<<It was a lucky break. And we still may not make it, Firewall.>>

You understand that, at least.

Mechanisms activating in the walls of the ship startle you. Your claws sink into Sawhorse’s rubber, prompting him to bat your hand away while simultaneously petting reassuringly down your side. Again, the Autobots give you a funny look, but only long enough to point at the chasm opening by way of the door.

“It’s open. You’ll have to make a bit of a jump, but it’s flat ground. Get out of here.”

“We have to jump?” Sawhorse yelps.

His field flares hot and sharp against yours. You shove him forward, into the gaping airlock, and peer over his frame.

“That is a bit cruel, Arcee,” one of them– not Arcee– says.

“Eh, well. Shouldn’t be grounders, then, huh?”

It is, as she says, a bit of a jump. Approximately four hundred feet from the edge of the airlock is the ground below. You’re not sure about the flat ground, if only because foliage and moisture make rough work of your systems. Still….

“See you around,” you throw over your shoulder. <<Go into your altmode just before you land,>> you whisper.

Then you shove Sawhorse out of the ship proper and take the plunge right after. He screams and curses loudly, but that just means he’s okay, so you tune it out.

#gunny writes #gunny oc sawhorse #gunny oc firewall #transformers

10 notes · View notes

emcandon · 1 year ago

Note

TAU question! How do you picture the personal sigils of bureaucrats (???? For lack of an immediate word on my part) looking? And are they immediately recognizable to the person seeing/reading it as still being the Leaf it was pulled from?

OHO okay so personal sigils in the downworld are an iteration on personal seals as seen in various East and Southeast Asian cultures. A sigil is probably usually stamped rather than written, especially among folks who actually live their lives in city-states (or the empire, technically, but something Else is happening there). But there's a little more flexibility for written or inscribed imitations among those who spend any part of their lives traveling between city-states, given the incredible likelihood that you will simply lose every physical object you own while trying not to be killed by frags. (And the cast of Undying is pretty much solely comprised of this particular kind of weirdo.)

In terms of the visuals of specific sigils, I think it varies by state of origin. Some places are going to emphasize use of characters from the Lay and Leaves, whereas others will insist on family names or other qualifiers of belonging to oath-bound clans or caravans or schools or something of the like. (You'll notice that a number of folks from Iterate Fractal's Khuon Mo just don't have surnames! Everyone who does have one got it from somewhere else.) Still other states will use characters unique to downworld languages or dialects, though most are drawn from the more dominant languages of Cradle.

(Note that some of these details are subject to change. I'm pretty agnostic when it comes to worldbuilding, so only the printed text is absolute canon; everything else is vulnerable to revision per the needs of the story!)

#the archive undying #ask reply

14 notes · View notes

racke7 · 5 months ago

Text

Me vs Divinity 2

Got bored a few days ago and poked around the Steam Communities. Stumbled across a video of someone doing a "solo run" (only a single character) of the final boss-fight.

Hmm. Checked youtube for others who'd done something similar. Specifically curious about the Necromancer-build (because it's bullshit-broken), and there were a few who used it and-... And it felt very lackluster?

I remember Necromancer being "I move these characters around a bit so that I will insta-frag literally everyone at once". And these guys just sort of "used the skill, and everything died".

(Necromancer has an end-game skill called Blood Storm, which creates a very big aoe-area. Inside of this area, all enemies will have a "meteor" dropped on their heads, which is an aoe-damage. So the trick is to make sure that enemies are grouped-up enough that they get rapid-fire-meteor'd.)

The idea of simply using the skill and kind of just... sitting back to watch it murder everything in an instant, is kind of... lackluster? Where's the weird logistics of moving everyone around? Why are the final bosses apparently so shit that they can't even survive the base Blood Storm?

A competitive spark appeared in my jaded heart. And so I removed a bunch of game-changing mods that I usually use (extra skills, etc), and created a new solo "basically-vanilla" Necromancer. And got killed, and killed, and killed.

See, the problem with Necromancer early-on is that they have two damage-skills. Total. And there's like a... 4+ turns cooldown for both of them.

This means that you can do really good damage on your first turn, and then you can't do any damage at all for basically every turn following that one.

This is... an insane way to balance the game. But in hindsight, I do remember that this was a problem. I just didn't think that it was this fucking bad.

So I died and died and died, and-... just as I was cheesing my way through getting away from the Fort in Fort Joy (with something like 40k gold in the bank, because I didn't disable all mods, and I'm very good at breaking the game), I realized that I kind of wanted to do something else.

I wanted to do a full team, with recruitable-Origins.

See, it's possible to open Divinity 2 four times at once, and then simply join "your own multiplayer lobby". And then (once the game has started and saved) you can close all of the other instances of the game, and play as four completely customizable characters.

This is very convenient for my control-freak neuroses, and so this is usually how I play a "full team". Sometimes I use origin-characters, but usually I custom-build them from scratch.

But I wanted to try making a game where I didn't actually have control over the characters during their "cut-scenes". So I sat down and did some thinking about which characters I wanted to recruit, and which one should be my "player character".

I finally settled on playing as Sebille, because she has an unfortunate tendency to murderize her way through a bunch of characters that I don't want her to instantly kill, and this way I can just ignore the "Sebille dialogue option" when I know that it'll end in bloodshed.

I was planning on going "Lohse, Beast, and Red Prince", but then RP was very rude to me in a way that just... nah. So I did a bit more thinking about who I should pick, and finally decided to bring Fane instead.

And that's the story of why I ate my breakfast at 7pm, twelve hours after waking up, after having played past midnight yesterday.

I'm in full control of my life. Promise.

#laughing #personal stuff #video games #rants

0 notes

autobot2001 · 1 year ago

Text

Rare Pairing Fest 6; Afterlife

Pairing: Bayverse Crosshairs and Drift Description: Drift is dead, and Crosshairs finds out he's sparked. All this time, Drift watches from the afterlife until he can visit Crosshairs one night. Warning; talk of abortion/ termination ***This is now another idea for a story I'll eventually get to***

Crosshairs stares at the headstone in disbelief. This has to be a nightmare. Crosshairs repeats to himself. Someone wake me up. Crosshairs didn't want to go to the funeral, but friends believed he'd regret it even though, right now, his spark aches more than before the funeral. No one knows that he and Drift had a little fun a few weeks ago. Crosshairs isn't sure if he wants to be sparked or would feel more disappointed if he's not. He could have a mini Drift, which could bring joy, sadness, or both.

Drift watches from the afterlife. Hating the pain Crosshairs is in. He knows Crosshairs isn't sure if he wants to be sparked now that he's gone. Drift isn't sure if he wants to watch Crosshairs endure the pain of being a single carrier, but he believes the sparkling will eventually bring him happiness.

Crosshairs is in no mood to do anything. He wants to be left alone and barely drinks energon. He doesn't tell anybot he's had nightmares about Drift being killed. With the depression, Crosshairs is tired by the end of the day and can't avoid recharging. "Drift!" Crosshairs calls out. He rubs across the battlefield, avoiding blasts from all around him. He's more worried about why Drift isn't answering him.

Crosshairs finally finds Drift. He stares horrified. Drift is severely damaged. He lost an arm and leg. Bleeding energon heavily from the two missing limbs, cuts, and gunshot wounds. "Drift!" "C-Crosshairs?" Crosshairs knows Drift has seconds before offlining. "Shh, I'm here.* "I'm sorry I —." "Don't say anything." "I love you.' Drift offlines. "Drift!" Crosshairs yells to the sky. Crosshairs wakes up, terrified. As always, he looks next to him and remembers this nightmare isn't what he fears but what happened. He cries himself into recharge.

This time, when Crosshairs wakes up in the morning, he feels sick. He rushes to the toilet to throw up. He's pretty sure he's not sick. I need to see Ratchet, but… Crosshairs thinks.

Drift watches Crosshairs, uncertain how to feel. He knows Crosshairs is going to be unhappy with the news at first. Hating he can't do anything from the afterlife.

"Well, there's bad news and worse news," Ratchet says, looking at his datapad. "How is there bad and worse news!" "Well, it's not good. Your energon level is low, and I'm sure the last thing you want is to be sparked. So I assume I don't need to ask—." "What the frag is wrong with you?! I know as a medic, you're supposed to ask, not assume! And no, I will not terminate!" "Crosshairs, you do realize this sparkling could look like Drift? Have more of Drift's personality?" "I know. I know I will have many days hating he's not here to meet this little one and watch them grow up, but I can't terminate. This little one didn't ask for their sire to be killed before they're detectable." "Then I strongly suggest talking to Rung at least once a week. I'm only detecting a spark. You know, the spark can spill at this stage, and you'll be carrying twins." "I don't care. Bring up termination again, and I'll see to it your medical career is terminated!" Crosshairs leaves the room, furious. Ignoring Ratchet's demand that he return for an energon infusion.

Crosshairs sits on his berth and cries. "I…I am happy to be carrying, but…I can't do this without you, Drift," Crosshairs sobs. The light in the room turns off. Crosshairs isn't sure what to think while seeing a glowing white orb. He watches the orb change form but can't believe what he sees. "D-Drift?" The figure smiles. "I love you, Crosshairs, and our little one." "I can't terminate, but I can't do this without you." Drift moves in front of Crosshairs "I'll always be here." He kisses Crosshairs before vanishing. Crosshairs isn't sure if he was hallucinating from low energon or not. If you did visit, I hope you can more often, Drift. Crosshairs thinks. I guess the sparkling has a guardian angel.

#transformers #transformers fanfiction #transformers bayverse #transformers crosshairs #bayverse crosshairs #transformers drift #bayverse drift #tf rare pairing fest #afterlife #Drift is killed #Crosshairs is sparked #Ratchet pisses Crosshairs off #another story idea #m preg

1 note · View note

wyrdo01 · 1 year ago

Text

Hydroelectric rocket science part 3

"...."

....

(The usually bickering duo are walking through kelper city, without speaking or shouting a single word, and with a awkward atmosphere bubbling them and the 2 Pokémon behind her and wyrdo's head)

"...alright we can agree that this silence is getting uncomfortable right?" Roya asked

Agreed...let's just talk about something. Like uuhhh... What happened after the 2 years since we went our separate ways? Wyrdo asked desperate to start a conversation.

"Well after we split off in galar and I went ahead an tried to turn a new leaf, despite my origins of being a rainbow rocket grunt. Its was... Difficult to say the least. the whole rainbow rocket incident reached far out each other region, had trouble with the gyms in most other regions and had to leave them eventually. That was until I landed in this region, the Torren region, it was not like the others especially with the environments here being a mix of some of other regions. And my life as weird and crazy as it was, was about to get insane." Roya explained

Do tell? Wyrdo listened on to her back story as she spoke

(She walked to the east in the city as she then looked at the head and asked it something)

"Ay you heard of regional variants?"

Well yes why wouldn't I? wyrdo replied

"Then you have you heard of Delta Pokémon?" She asked

Delta Pokémon? Wyrdo asked in confusion

"Take a look at my vespiquen, Reacta, and tell me what's different about her."

(She points at her companion that was holding Wyrdo's left and right limbs, Wyrdo upon looking at the Pokémon noticed its completely different from what they have seen before. Rather than it's black, yellow, orange color scheme, this one sports a metallic grey, black, and glowing yellow colors, with no wings to be found rather it was flying by rocket propulsion instead)

Well now that I notice her she's not like any of the ones i've seen before. Wyrdo answered with curiosity

"That's because she is what's called a Delta Pokémon around here. Years ago there was a cult group that created these Pokémon in the pursuit of perfection,the bastards created a gene called the "Delta gene" which make these Pokémon type, moveset, everything outside of stats RADICALLY different from what they have usually. Even the very nature of how they function changed. However this brought one issue, They cannot be bred by the respective regular Pokémon or another delta of the same species making them one of a kind." She explained

So they basically created lab modified clones so radically different biological wise that they basically neutered them by birth!? THE FRAG!? Wyrdo shouted in outrage upon hearing this.

(She chuckled at the bewildered robot head. As they walked down a few steps with the 2 Pokémon following as well)

"I know kind of shit ain't it rustbucket? However and recently, there was a way to populate them that eventually shook the ecosystem as we know it now, delta ditto came to play by being the only delta Pokémon that can be bred by both ends of the spectrum and sort of fixed the issue eventually reaching to a breeding point. And now all these Deltas are a lot more common to find, not by much but enough to no be considered legendary status. The ecosystem had somehow by surprise to all the scientists and biologist managed to adapt quicker than expected. Almost nothing has happened" Roya further expositioned.

Alright that's cool but what I want to know is where do you fall in all of this?

OH I'm getting to that now. The region was the new stay for me till I felt I was ready to go back to main regions again. At 1st I thought it would be a simple run through league here by oh boy I was soooo wrong. I ran into someone named Wiz who was a guardian of this region that was dealing with cultists-

WAIT CULTIST!?

(They reach a cave entrance and stopped as Wyrdo's shouted out in exclamation)

"Yeeap!" She replied "And don't get me started on the stuff that they do makes even team plasma seem tame by comparison..."

I'll not pry then. The bot quickly buried that idea in their processor

" I got roped up into the kid's mess and I helped her take down cultist that wanted to take advantage of the Deltas and occasionally a major one that wanted to wield a legendary Pokémon for their own means.... Huh its sounds really weird saying that given my past life." Roya mused to herself and Wyrdo

Means you became a much better human than the idiot you were before that annoyed me to no end.... Well for the most part you still annoy me to no end. Wyrdo commented with a bit of snark in their tone.

(Roya rolled her eyes at the bot's comment before wrapping up her story up)

"Whatever... Anyways after dealin' with the nightmare that is this league and wrapping up with rounding cults with Wiz, i managed to land a job around here after all of that, and here I am. Oh look we are here."

(They and Roya's Pokémon look at the entrance)

"Welp best to not beat around the bush and get inside to get this done and over with right?" Roya asked the bot

...agreed. Wyrdo simply said Before we do I have a question to ask.

"Shoot." Roya

Roya do you miss being around me?

...i honestly don't know anymore." Roya answered with uncertainty laced in her voice as her Pokémon look on with confusion upon hearing her answer

"Let's just get inside already. "

Right.

(They all quietly walked into the cave entrance without speaking)

#tw experimentation #ic #rotomblr #irl pokemon #pokemon irl #off rotumblr rp

0 notes

mazamba · 9 months ago

Text

Ratchet was doing his best to not look too concerned. If Arcee's optical processors were failing to the point she was hallucinating someone, then it might be best to simply get her coordinates and go pick her up.

"Arcee, where are you even?"

Before she could reply, the organic came back with a... minicon?

"...Why is that minicon wearing a dress?"

The minicon looked up, eyes visible from behind a darkened visor, and after a minute retracted the helmet.

"A human!" he realized, "Where the frag are you!? We haven't seen humans since... wait a moment."

He squinted and got close to the screen. There was something familiar about her.

"Have we... met?"

Something was tickling the back of his mind. He felt like he should recognize the voice, but it eluded him.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a bulky metal key, an object he hadn't seen in over three hundred thousand stellar cycles.

"Where did you get...? Wait... How is this possible?"

She was taller, her eyes had changed color, and was wearing an odd armor he'd never seen before, but there was no mistaking who he was looking at.

"Sari?"

"Hi Ratchet. It's been a while."

Ratchet ran a dozen self-diagnostic programs simultaneously, trying to explain what he was seeing.

"You... you were dead!" he accused, "We buried you- your legs! How can you be alive now!?"

"It's... a long story."

Ratchet forced himself to calm down, doing his best to think rationally.

"The Key," he realized, "the circuitry in your legs was cybertronian."

"I used it to repair myself," she affirmed, "when I did, I also turned off whatever made me age at a normal rate, so I stuck around as an eight-year-old."

"Then why do you look like this now?"

Sari took a deep breath and relayed the events of the last 24 hours, introducing Ahsoka to him, quickly summarizing the Separatist war, her involvement in it, her dealings with Swindle, the heist which helped her regain the shard, and a quick rundown of how they ended the war.

"...Kid, you got a talent for getting into trouble, don't you?"

"Yeah... but would you have me any other way?"

Ratchet laughed, but admitted he wouldn't.

"Still, it's lucky you stumbled across Ahsoka when you did, or the story would have been quite different."

"Yeah... stumbled," she muttered guiltily, before she decided to grow a backbone, "actually, no. Not stumbled."

Sari turned to Ahsoka, a determined look on her face.

"I owe you an apology. I wasn't looking for kyber when we met, I was looking for you. I always knew who you were. I told you that I accidentally inspired the Sith by sneaking into the Jedi temple and talking a padawan into being a bit more rebellious. What I didn't tell you is that it wasn't the first or the last time I snuck into the Temple.

"You were seven the first time we met. You didn't recognize me because I was wearing a twi'lek costume and one of the fake Force signatures. I was also in disguise when I met Yoda... and Dooku and Ventress, Bariss, Qui Gon, Anakin, Plo Koon... I could go on, but those are the most recent ones.

"I met them all as children, hoping that one of them would eventually become my key back into the Temple. The fact is, a lot of what happened in the last few thousand years has been my fault. I even knew Darth Revan as a teenager, it's honestly embarrassing that it took me so long to recognize-."

She cut herself off before she could follow that tangent.

"It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. For everything I've done. I truly am."

Closed RP w/@mazamba

Ahsoka Tano is seen down in the lower levels, looking for work to continue paying for her place. She was no longer a Jedi, so she needed to find work. In order to pay for her place she was staying, while also getting food to fill her belly. Ahsoka sighed knowing she wasn't going to be able to find a proper job without getting her hands dirty.

"They want me to steal from a known crime lord or to steal from the Jedi Temple to retrieve a lightsaber from one of the fallen Jedi," Ahsoka knew both of these would either get her killed or arrested. She knew the Jedi Temple needed to be warned about this, but didn't understand why this person wanted the lightsaber.

"Well, I'll need to find work somewhere in order to pay for my next rent," said Ahsoka as she stops in her track when she sensed something. "What was that?"

@mazamba

567 notes · View notes

thatdorkyauthor · 3 years ago

Note

Helloo! Can I request a (scenario/ short story..etc, is up to you) tfp optimus with a human charge reader who has control over time ? She trapped herself in a time loop trying to save optimus multiple times but each time she fails, she witnesses his death and resets to the start from when optimus was kneeling in front of her introducing himself and the autobots, and the cycle begins. Each time reader grows more tired and anguished until finally after staying stuck in the time loop for two years, she interrupts optimus mid introduction after another failed loop and starts tiredly crying in grief and overwhelming hopelessness.

"We are autonomous-"

"This is the 191,702 time..I can't save you...no matter how hard I try...why can't I save you?"

Hope it's not too detailed 😅

Sorry that this one took longer to be uploaded, I had to go to an event for my internship, which took a toll on my mental health, but I am back now. Words: 1672 Did some research for this one and holy damn, Hasbro really has something with killing him off, only for him to come back some way, holy fuck. XD. !This doesn't follow the series. And be prepared for a long one. Found this one in drafts from a little ago, I'm so sorry for not uploading this earlier, I just had to change a lot. Hope you'll enjoy it?

“Hey Optimus?” The bots were preparing for another battle against some decepticons as they were located near a new energon mine, at least that was what they had told you. The mentioned bot turned around, his blue optics landing on you. With curiosity evident in his optics he slid his battle mask down. “Yes (Y/n).” He didn’t have much time to waste, he was aware of that, his team was already waiting before entering through the ground bridge. Ratchet turned to the two of you briefly only to shake his helm as he turned back to the monitor. “Be safe alright, don’t make me c-.” Miko wrapped an arm over your shoulder. “Us come to kick some decepticon afts.” Bulkhead facepalmed, shaking his helm. Optimus nodded, the slightest hint of a smile on his face plates. “We shall be fine, little ones.” “Promise?” Optimus turned to you, hesitation in his optics and voice. “I promise.” He turned back, facing his team again and pulled his battle mask back on. “Autobots, roll out!” He couldn’t stick to his promise. Unlike other times you four weren’t allowed to watch the scene unfold, this time Ratchet was watching it unfold on a pad. “Ratchet what’s going on.” Everything went downhill incredibly quickly, worrying the older medic. “Frag.” He turned to the monitor, turning everything on. Miko looked at the stats of the bots in worry and gasped. You followed her gaze, dropping to the ground. “Arcee, what happened?” Worry laced Ratchet’s voice as he tried desperately to find an error in the system. “Optimus, he.” She didn’t continue, the base became quiet, only the sounds of the battle going on echoed through the building. Miko placed a hand on your shoulder. The comms turned off, the connection gone. Ratchet sighed, turning his attention to the medical status of the bots, ready to jump into battle if needed. “What happened?” He turned around, his optics somewhat softening as he spotted you on the ground. With a sigh of defeat, and grief as well as sorrow in his optics he tried to form a sentence. “Optimus, he.” He couldn’t bring himself to continue as it didn’t feel right to him, especially as he watched you curl up, sobbing and screaming in grief. He didn’t like humans much, but you four, excluding June, had a special place in his spark. He wasn’t sure how, if he could help, so he turned back to the panel trying to reconnect with the other bots. Jack placed a hand on your shoulder, tears forming his eyes as well. Miko dropped down, engulfing you in a hug as she cried with you. Raf joined your side but before he could do anything a bright light came from your hands. Ratchet noticed the lights reflecting on the monitor screen and turned around. You looked up at him, determination and grief filling your eyes. “This won’t be his ending.” Miko looked around as everything started to spin. “What’s happening?” Ratchet glanced at everything moving. “What are you doi-.” He never got to finish his sentence

The doors of the camaro opened, allowing you and Raf to get out. Ratchet turned to look at you and the other three, as Bulkhead entered the room. Both Arcee and Bumblebee transformed as soon as everyone had left their alt modes. “I thought there were two.” You turned to Ratchet, remembering your first encounter with him. “Haven’t you heard, humans multiply.” Arcee said before walking to her comrades. “I’m Raf.” “I’m Miko.” Miko ran towards the bots, as Raf introduced himself calmly from his position. “Who are you?” She questioned the Bulkhead, who stared warily at the girl. “Bulkhead.” “Are you a car, I bet you’re a truck, a monster truck.” The orange bot stared at you as you shook your head in amusement. Something felt off, he just couldn’t pin down what. “Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weigh? Ever used a wrecking ball as a punching bag?” He clearly didn’t know what to do with the overly extroverted girl. “So if you guys are robots who made you?” Raf asked, making the medic scoff. “Puh Lease.” Optimus entered the room, making me turn around with a smile. Optimus crouched down. "We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron, autobots for short." He stood back up, looking down on you and the other three. "I am Optimus Prime." You and Optimus bonded quite quickly, it was however difficult to act as if you had never seen the bot. However, the new peace didn’t last long, instead of two months the leader passed away after two, this time you were there. “Give me the kids.” Starscream screeched as he attacked Optimus from the front, distracting him. Jack pulled you to the side, preventing you from being crushed underneath some pedes. “Over my dead body.” Optimus shot back, raising his battle mask. The team was scattered over the battlefield, Bumblebee was busy fighting Knockout, Bulkhead was battling Breakdown, as Arcee was keeping herself busy with slaying some other cons. “If you insist.” Megatron said from behind, pushing his sword through Optimus’ chassis before he had the chance to defend him. Megatron pushed the sword deeper before taking it out, using his canon to shoot in the hole, expanding the wound.“NO!” Starscream turned towards you, a smirk displayed on his faceplates as he spotted the four of you. “Like Prime insisted.” He sneered before walking towards you. Miko held you close, noticing the tears falling down. “Fuck you.” A light, similar to the first one appeared, and time reversed again.

He stood back up, looking down on you four. “I am Optimus Prime, leader of the autobots.” He mentioned the orange and white bot. “Our medical officer, Ratchet. Our wrecker Bulkhead. Our scout, Bumblebee, and Arcee our warrior.” Jack locked eyes with the blue femme, raising an eyebrow. “So now what, are you going to keep us here, preventing us from seeing anyone to keep your secret safe?” You shook your head with a soft smile, elbowing Jack not too hard. “No, that would be against our, and I assume your morals.” Optimus said before looking at the other bots. “But for your own safety, we must keep an eye on you four.” Five days, all went well for five days. “They say the third time’s the charm.” Miko said, running through the ground bridge. She said pulling you through the bridge. However, as soon as you entered the bridge, you felt like throwing up. “Optimus, watch out.” “NO!.” Arcee turned to you in shock. “Bulkhead, get the girls out of here.” Optimus laid motionless on the ground, after getting multiple shots to the chest and another blade in the back. Another white light blinded the teens, and it all went back to that moment. Five months, one week, two days, the exact same day. It wouldn’t stop and it was starting to take a toll on your mental and physical health. With each time you couldn’t, correction wouldn’t, let your guardian go. You counted each and every time that you had to reset time, by now knowing the introduction by heart and being able to repeat it in your mind, no matter where you were or what you were doing.

“191, 701.” You muttered, feeling exhausted by using your powers so often. The great leader looked at you in confusion, and curiosity. You didn’t look scared or excited at all, it seemed like you were extremely exhausted. He didn’t notice the tears you were holding back, but Ratchet did. He noticed something weird on his monitors the second you stepped out of that car, something that shouldn’t be happening to a human. He didn’t say anything, but he was definitely going to ask you later. “My name is Optimus Prime, we are autonomous robotic organism-.” The bot stopped in the middle of his sentence, making you look up at him weirdly. He dropped down, making Miko shriek as she grabbed your arm and pulled you away. A flat lining was heard from the monitor behind the medic. Ratchet turned to the monitor before putting Optimus on a medbay bed with Bulkhead’s help. “Spark attack” He muttered a little too loud. “This is the 191 701th time, and he doesn’t even last five fucking minutes. It’s a new record.” The bots looked at you in confusion, not even able to process anything before a bright light blinded them all.

“My name is Optimus Prime, we are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet-.” It was too much. Everyone’s attention turned towards you, as you collapsed to the ground. Miko looked at you in worry before crouching down and rubbing you back soothingly. “Hey, I’m sure they won’t hu-.” She didn’t get to finish her sentence. The leader was confused to say at least when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “This is the 191 702th time.” Ratchet tilted his head as he looked at Optimus before turning back to you. Optimus glanced at you with worry and confusion, he couldn’t see your expression anymore as you dropped your head, staring at your hands. “I can’t save you, I tried so many times.” They all listened carefully to what you had to say. “But no matter what I do, you always.” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as memories flooded through your mind, and started to sob. Optimus crouched down, leaning on one of his knee plates as he came closer. “Why can’t I save you?” It came as a choked back whisper, but every bot had heard it. The gears in Ratchet's helm clicked. “You time traveled?” Optimus glanced at Ratchet before turning to you. “Some things are bound to happen, I’m honored you went back to me so many times. Yet sometimes you have to let others go.” He explained, knowing from experience death was inevitable. “Besides, as long as you remember me, I will never leave your side.”

#Transformersprime #transformersprimexreader #transfomersprimeoptimus #transformersprimeoptimusxreader #optimusprime #transformers prime x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #transformers prime

190 notes · View notes

lesdreams-author · 3 years ago

Note

Downloading Honkai Impact 3rd! Excited to play!Any tips for a newbie like me?😊

Hmm

Don't roll on the dorm banner!

Let to pull it with the dorm card you get for free every now and then. I advise you to hold those cards and spend it when there's an spending event going on. Since it will reward you with things. Usually spending events give you x coins that you can exchange for a S-rank battlesuit (in Genshin's terms it would be a 5* character).

Don't rush too much, enjoy the story and all the game modes there. I say it if you are f2p. Honkai is a competitive game, where there's two modes where you will computer against others players to get better rewards (xtals = pulls). Those game modes are: memorial arena and Abyss.

Different from Genshin, in Honkai the abyss is separated in levels. There's the beginning level, where you will compete against others players from your own level bracket. The rewards are okay. Every time you win in cycle (there's 3 cycles if I'm not wrong each week) you go up and is placed in another sublevel. The enemies are stronger and the competition too but the rewards are a lot better. When you reach a certain level in honkai your difficulty in abyss changes, you are placed with others players in another bracket. What means, people who is starting to buy stuff in the game, what means you will have more difficulty going up against them. The worst bracket is the ex bracket. It has the veterans, whales and such gamers, only level 81+. If you rush too much in the game and don't whale, you will have a hard time getting good rewards on abyss, or even completing the cycle.

Memorial arena is the same, although a little more easy going, since the best rewards you get just completing the bosses level. You only go against people if you want some extra materials but it isn't xtals so...

Anyway...Hold on to your xtals because they are precious hahaha and if you have how, buy monthly card. It's only 5 dollar and give you a lot xtals.

Also, when playing the chapters, always have a little tissue nearby. This game is very lesbian but also sad hahaha...it hurts so good 😭😭😭

And last but not unimportant, if you going to pull a S Valkyrie, be aware you will need 28k to get her guarantee (usually you can get her before the 100 pull but...always good to have enough). Grind those equipment to forge stigmata, there's a lot good stigmata for free and they are really important to give your character powerful DMG or buffs. Farm frags for SA, she is great physical support and she is free. Haxxor bunny is great ice and elemental support and is her frags are free too.

There's good weapons on the forge too, for free. So grind hard and late game you can pri-arm some of them (up level their strength when you reach level 81+).

Anyway...I'm sure there's a lot of videos and articles out there giving newbies more advice, Honkai official discord has a lot of it.

Good lucky and let me know how it's going. Of you are in the America server, let's add one another and I can help you grind some stuff 🤗

#honkai impact #newbie anon #yaay Another one to the depressive train

2 notes · View notes

verdigrisprowl · 7 years ago

Text

Ignored

Set after this thread. Prowl and Tarantulas have a rather unpleasant conversation about the state of their relationship, and particularly Tarantulas’s insecurities therein; and Prowl is honestly too exhausted and shaken from Bonecrusher's breakdown to contribute much of value. Some small progress is made, but nobody leaves happy.

Tarantulas

No ping, no greeting - just a comm.

«Did I mention the glitch isn’t in the boot sequence? Because it isn’t. I need the rest of the coding. Please.»

Prowl

Straight to business, huh?

Well. Probably for the best, wasn’t it? Certainly more efficient that way.

Prowl sent about two-thirds of the rest of the coding, and none of the actual avatar data. Parts of the coding were highlighted.

«This is all that I activated before I had to shut it off yesterday, and it still caused the leaguers to show up. So the problem is somewhere in here. Since the open portal isn’t persistent—otherwise, they could just walk back out, or other people would walk through—it’s going to be something that activates once during the boot-up rather than something that remains active and is referenced persistently, so those are the parts I’ve highlighted.»

Tarantulas

A few seconds of dead silence, then: «...You didn’t need to do that. Primus, you could have just sent me the whole program instead of chopping it to bits and feeding it to me piecemeal. Why are you so intent on - on -»

Prowl

«Why do you need the whole program when I can tell you, with 98% confidence, that the problem you need to find is in this portion?»

Tarantulas

«Because you're keeping things from me and coddling me, when you could just trust me and let me handle the problem myself!» Tarantulas spat the words bitterly. «But no, you want as little to do with me as possible, I get it. You're dead set on shutting me out, Primus damnit.»

Prowl

A moment—a long moment—of silence.

«... You're mistaken. And I'm—confused.»

Tarantulas

«If I'm so mistaken, then prove me wrong. Give me evidence to the contrary, because all I'm seeing now is you blatantly, repeatedly, and dismissively rebuffing and ignoring me whenever it suits you, in favor of literally anything else.» And by "anything" he mostly meant "Soundwave."

Prowl

«I...» Helpless silence. «... When? I don't... I know I missed that you were trying to get my attention at the movie. But... when else? What did I do?»

Tarantulas

«Don't give me that. Not only did you quote-unquote "miss" my multiple attempts at getting your attention - you obviously did not care once both Soundwave and I pointed it out. In fact, you had the bolts to push me away, and then fled when I rightfully got upset about it. And no, this isn't the first time this has happened, though I'm loathe to go drudging through old memories that'll only raise my ire even more. If you absolutely must have receipts, I will do it though.»

Prowl

«... I did miss them. I completely missed them. And I am sorry I missed them. I am. But it wasn't deliberate, and I do care that it bothered you. I...» He falters for a minute; but then forces himself to continue, "I was tired. I know you're sick of hearing that. But being tired means being too—too mentally addled to pay attention to already sub-normal tactile input, or however you were trying to get my attention—were you talking to me, too? I don't know. I honestly don't know.

«Yes, I left—I was making you upset and you were becoming irate, of course I left, I was hardly in a mental state to—undo whatever the hell I did.» He isn't in a mental state NOW to undo whatever the hell he did. He still hasn't slept. He's so tired.

«I have no idea what that means.»

Tarantulas

«I know you were tired, you don't have to tell me a million fragging times. That doesn't forgive it, when you just up and leave instead of at least - at least telling me what's going on! Just a tiny sliver. You're shutting me out. And don't tell me you simply didn't have the energy - I just know you were talking with Soundwave the whole fragging time over comms, by the way. Don't try to hide it.»

Prowl

«I know you know. I know. And I don't want or expect you to forgive me for it. I just— I want— I want you, to...» He sighed, and rubbed his face. Words, words. Say it correctly this time. «... I'm not telling you I'm tired because I think, that... gets me out of trouble, or something? If I'm in trouble. I don't know if I am and that's not what I care about. I keep saying it because I'm... trying to... I want you to understand that, I haven't... I haven't looked at you and decided that you aren't worthy of my attention. At no point did I make a decision that I don't feel like acknowledging you. I thought... I don't know. I thought that might help.» It just sounds stupid now.

Silence. "… when you just up and leave instead of at least - at least telling me what's going on!" Was that Tarantulas saying he wants Prowl to explain why he up and left? Or, if Prowl explains why he up and left, will Tarantulas get mad at him for making excuses? Dammit. He rubs his optics. «Okay. I'm going to— I don't know if you're implying that you want me to explain why I up and left, or if explaining why I up and left will come across as making excuses, and I'm—» Scared of getting it wrong? Scared he's going to make Tarantulas more angry or upset in the process of attempting to undo whatever damage he'd caused? Trying to talk around what felt like a knot of wires in his vocalizer trying to short-circuit his voice? «... I'm going to wait until you clarify it, so I don't mess up again.» Coward.

«Yes. I was speaking with Soundwave. I've— I haven't been hiding that. I said I...» He falters, and trails off. Tarantulas doesn't want to hear him repeat himself.

Tarantulas

Tarantulas felt a rush of emotion - he wasn't sure what - boil over in his chest. «It - it wasn't even intentional, is what you're saying. So you're saying you didn't have to decide I wasn't worth your attention. It may as well be automatic by now. Hyah.»

Whatever emotion it'd been, that flash, that rush - it was immediately doused and drowned out by what Prowl said next. "... so I don't mess up again." That - that could mean so many things. What should Tarantulas say to that? What could he say?

«I would like to know why you left, yes.» At this point Tarantulas wasn't sure he'd like it, but he felt he needed to know.

Prowl

«N...» How does he say no to that? Everything about the denotation was wrong; but the words themselves were, in a literal sense, correct. It wasn't intentional; he didn't decide Tarantulas wasn't worth his attention; he did, automatically, not have the capacity to recognize that somebody was physically poking at him. These were correct facts. They were all wrong but they were correct facts, and how did he get around— How was he supposed to— He jammed the heels of his palms against his optics.

«... I...» ... He couldn't explain why he'd left, could he? Because he'd already explained it once. «... You don't want to hear me repeat myself.» He can only say any given thing once, or Tarantulas will be upset that he's repeating himself.

... He has to wonder if it's deliberate. If Tarantulas decided to reject or ignore the first time Prowl tries to explain himself, demand an explanation, and then express rage when he hears the same explanation a second time. What's the objective? Is cutting Prowl off from re-sharing the truth he shared the first time intended to force him to change his story until it becomes one Tarantulas accepts? Is it to shut him up entirely?

Was all of this deliberate?

Tarantulas

Dead silence hung between them for a while. Prowl hadn't said anything truly substantial, but somehow his lack of words seemed to speak for him. Either that, or Tarantulas's mind filled in the gaps for him instead.

«I - I don't. I really - I really don't, if the answer's going to be the same again and again. Because right now it just - it just sounds like - I know you've claimed that you care, that you're sorry, but -»

Tarantulas didn't feel it. He didn't see it. It didn't click. And the more Prowl floundered, the more Tarantulas felt like pulling away.

Prowl

«I don't—I don't know what I did. You said I've—done this before, but refused to tell me when or how—you said you'd—get mad if I asked, and—I don't want that, so I can't ask—you get upset when I explain myself because, I guess because it's not good enough, or else you ignore the explanation—then you get upset if I—try to clarify that explanation—because then it's either 'repeating myself,' or it's—it's whatever worst possible interpretation you can spin, and I can't correct it, because correcting it is repeating myself—but if I don't explain, you're upset because I didn't—I—what's the corner you're trying to back me into, Tarantulas? Where are you trying to make me stand? I'm—bad at picking up hints, I don't—I don't know where you're trying to make me stand. I'll stand there, just show me where.»

Tarantulas

«I'm - I-I'm not -»

Tarantulas may have felt emotionally doused before, but he was definitely drowning now. There was too much. Too much to parse. And if this was what Prowl was thinking - well, nevermind that, Prowl was wrong. Tarantulas wasn't trying to back him anywhere. He wasn't.

«You won't believe me if I say I'm not trying to manipulate you right now, will you. You can't - you can't take me at my word. Because - I don't make sense, do I. I see. That's fair. That's entirely fair. I'm - I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Prowl, I - I'm sorry.»

Prowl

Silence.

Then, thickly: «Then—if you're not—then—what am I doing wrong? I'm—going by the rules you established—don't ask about whatever else I did, don't repeat myself—it's not working. I'm making it worse.»

Tarantulas

«You're - you're not. It's -»

This wasn't going well. It hadn't been going well, not since the end of the movie, when Prowl had shown up at Dancitron. And that, even then, didn't feel like the start of it. Tarantulas couldn't possibly pin it down.

Especially now, he suddenly felt as if... he'd broken Prowl. As if he'd been holding something gorgeously, intricately fragile in his paws and twisted his wrist just so and shattered it. This was Prowl, Primus damnit. Prowl. And Tarantulas was doing this to him. He was throwing awful scathing words at him and hoping they burnt him like acid, as if Prowl deserved that. As if -

No. Tarantulas shouldn't get carried away. Prowl was waiting on the line - and hadn't he asked Tarantulas not to go silent unexpectedly without giving word of what was going on? Tarantulas had just broken something; he shouldn't make things worse by frightening Prowl more.

«I'm still here.» A shaky pause. «You're not doing anything wrong. You're just - doing what I told you to do, which makes it my responsibility. Not yours. I'm -sorry.»

Prowl

His fingers dug into his helm as he waited for Tarantulas to say something—he was still on the line—just say something. His shoulders sag when Tarantulas finally speaks again.

«... Then what should I do?»

He's messed up so much lately—he messed up with Bonecrusher, he messed up with Mixmaster, he messed up with Hook, and not only did he mess up yesterday with Tarantulas, he is continuing to mess up right now, and furthermore he has apparently been systematically messing up with Tarantulas for a long time without even realizing it. How much has he done wrong that he needs to undo? «I just want to get this right.» He's bound and determined to get it right.

Tarantulas

«So do I.» Tarantulas's voice was weak now, nervous. «I - don't know what to tell you. Apparently my directions before were faulty, so I'm probably not the best one to say where we ought to go from here. I feel like - like if you were smart you'd probably just hang up on me, but like I said, don't listen to me, I'm - I'm not the authority here.»

Prowl

«I—That's—what I tried, when—» No. He'd said that already. «... I need to... I can't say anything if I can't repeat myself. I'm—sorry.»

Tarantulas

«You can, if you have to. Screw the damn rules. I... I didn't even mean them as rules anyhow. I didn't.»

Prowl

A deep vent. «That's why I left. You wanted to know why I left. I was—trying to be smart. I knew you were upset. I—knew that I'd make it worse. I'd upset you more—like I'm doing now. So—better to leave. Correct? Less suffering.»

Tarantulas

A sound that was almost a whimper. «No, Prowl, no, no. That's - you can't know you'd've made it worse. You definitely made it worse by leaving, I can tell you that much, I - can't you see? Can't you see what I'm even upset about?» Choked desperation was sneaking into his voice. «It doesn't make any sense to leave if you've been - if I feel ignored. It just - reinforces the fear. Prowl, I need an antidote, not hospice. Not abandonment, not - leaving. Don't leave. Please, never just up and leave me, Prowl.»

Prowl

«... I know leaving made it worse. But that harm is—is finite. It happens and then it stops. When I stay—and try to do something, it just keeps getting worse. Like now. Last conversation wasn't as bad as this one.

«I can't promise I'll never—never leave a room until you're ready for me to go. That's too much from me. That's past what I can offer. To anyone, ever.»

Tarantulas

«It may be finite, but it's so deep, Prowl, and it doesn't stop. At least a conversation still has the potential to get better, doesn't it? To mitigate. To soothe. Repair, what have you. Leaving just - breaks it. Severs things, and never cleanly. I - personally, I'd take the chance. The chance that things could get fixed. Instead of the 100% rate of failure that leaving incurs.»

A pause. «That's... not exactly what I'd ask of you, Prowl, it's more like... don't up and leave me. Don't leave me hanging. You can go without my permission, I'm not going to take that from you, Primus, but - please, at least just...»

Prowl

«The potential to get better?» A choked, bitter laugh. It doesn't actually sound like a laugh. «You don't see me have many conversations, do you? A one hundred percent chance of a twenty percent mood drop is better than a ninety-nine percent chance of an eighty percent mood drop.

«What would you have done if—I'd said I was leaving, so I didn't make it worse? Try to talk me into staying, and be even more upset when I didn't? Convince yourself I thought I'd make it worse because—I really don't care? Nothing I said came out right—everything made you more upset—an explanation for leaving would be no exception.»

Tarantulas

«That's selfish. Assuming - assuming you always know what's best for someone else? Assuming you even know it's a 20% mood drop, or what its distribution or duration is? You have no idea, Prowl, you have - n-no idea.» Back in his lab, Tarantulas was clutching at his chest with a paw.

«I - I don't know what I would have done, but now? Now, I would take you seriously. I would honor your decision. I - don't really have any other choice, do I.» After a moment, another mumble trailed along. «...I don't... have the right to ask anything more, hyah. I'm... barely a friend, much less a datemate, or...» A heavy sigh. «What am I even thinking.»

Prowl

«I never assume. I calculate. And I—I know, my ability to calculate people, is subpar. I know the numbers are incomplete—and inaccurate. But—they're the only numbers I have. I can't run calculations with formulae I don't possess.

«"Now" doesn't matter. "Now" isn't yesterday. Your answer now is different than it would have been yesterday, because—because all this just happened.»

A shocked silence. «... No. That's... Why do you... What did I do, to—make you think—»

Tarantulas

«If your calculations are incomplete and inaccurate - isn't that assuming? Can't you - can't you just ask?» Tarantulas rubbed at his face, his paw trembling slightly. «And hypotheticals aren't useful, not like this. This - this changes things. You can't extrapolate from a point that's not in the same dimension.»

All of that flew from Tarantulas's mind as Prowl broke the silence with his last words. Prowl didn't think the same - but what did he think? What did those clipped phrases even mean? Tarantulas didn't want to hope too much.

«I - I don't know. Not you, you didn't do anything, it's - it's just how it is. Unless that isn't how it is, but I-I just feel like - I feel -» Tarantulas's shoulders were trembling now too. «How could you ignore one mech and engage like that with another and say you hold them on remotely the same level? And after all we've been through lately - the, the fights, the punishments, everything -»

Prowl

«No. It's not. There's a higher probability I'll be wrong, but at—at least I'm trying to be right. Asking doesn't work. Ask "will you be mad if I say this," then you have to say whatever it is you're asking them about. You have to decide on your own. Ask someone social questions and they get mad at you because you should have already known the answers, and they resent you for not knowing them well enough to already have the answers.

«If I didn't do something, then you wouldn't feel like this.» Cause and effect. Someone's always at fault, and it's usually the person who doesn't know what he's doing. «Because he was—» Prowl chokes on the words. No, no, no. That's Bonecrusher's business. That's only Bonecrusher's business. «Because I was there on business. I've—I've already said that. If that wasn't good enough for you the first time, I don't—know why it would be now. But it's true. I wasn't there to socialize.»

Tarantulas

«Ask them after the fact. Ask me how I felt when you left me at Dancitron. Ask me what it felt like when - when you hung up on me this-or-that time, or gave up on a situation, or refused to speak to me. Ask me, and I'll tell you, and you can use that data. Please.»

Hhh. Tarantulas had forgotten Prowl had said he was there on business... but... «...That doesn't negate the rest of what I said though, it's - why would I feel any other way about... H-how can I even put it? You don't... don't trust me. I - you - say you do love me, and I - I believe you, but I don't understand how that's possible without the trust, and where that even puts us. It's, it's...»

Anxiously Tarantulas scrambled around, searching for fragments to maybe, just maybe, support what Prowl was saying-but-not-saying. (Anything to rid himself of the thought that Prowl was just using the word "love" to bend him to his will.) The crawling under his plating abated a little when he realized - Primus. Well, part of it was right there in front of him, wasn't it. As pitiful as it sounded, the fact that Prowl was still talking to him after all, and hadn't left... he did care at least a little then, didn't he?

Prowl

A harsh, broken laugh. «Oh, that goes well. "Remember when we fought last night? The whole time—I have no idea how you felt. Could you tell me?" If you— When you ask that, people don't answer. They just hurt again, because—you should have known already. You should be able to, to, to—to look at them and know, automatically, like telepathy, how they feel. Because everyone else can do that. Everyone else except you. Tell someone you don't know how they felt, they don't—they don't assume you're missing a sense that everyone else has. They assume you don't care.»

... How does Prowl answer that? No, he doesn't trust Tarantulas. He wants to. But how can he? When Tarantulas is still lying to him? Prowl doesn't even know how often he lies, only that he caught him once recently. How many times has he missed?

«... Love and trust are separate functions.» What else can he say? «I don't— I don't like it.» He would far rather that love were impossible to feel without trust. «But they are. And, here we are.»

Tarantulas

«I'm talking about me, Prowl, me, not just any mech! I - I'm not sure exactly how to patch whatever missing sense it is, but it's - if I'm telling you to ask me, you might as well fragging try!» A small crack in Tarantulas's voice. «If you do care - that's, that's what you should do. Just listen to me, damnit.»

Tarantulas took a shaky moment to dwell on that though - separate functions? Really? They seemed inextricably bound together to him, unfortunately so. How could someone hold true affection for someone they couldn't rely on, someone who constantly broke their trust? Tarantulas had already accepted that he was an untrustworthy person, that much was true. How could Prowl love someone like that? What sort of distorted attraction must that be?

«...I don't - I just don't understand. I -» Momentarily Tarantulas choked. Maybe he should just shut up. Give up. Quiet down. It wasn't really his place to question Prowl's words, was it? «N-nevermind.»

Prowl

«... I thought I was listening. That's what I'm trying to...» Well, obviously, it isn't working, is it? «Then—how do you...» An irritated huff at himself. «I can't ask that—you've been telling me how you feel, right now. I'm going to—I sound like I—like I'm not listening. Just—know that I am listening, but—tell me how you feel.»

If Tarantulas didn't understand, how in the world was Prowl going to explain? «... Does—"nevermind" mean you don't want me to ask how you feel?»

Tarantulas

«You keep trying to explain, you - you interpret, you analyze, you do all sorts of things besides actually - actually...» A deep vent. Prowl was asking now, wasn't he? And he said he was listening. Well then. Where should Tarantulas even start?

It seemed like a million orns before Tarantulas was able to gather his thoughts again, but eventually... «N-no, Prowl, I want you to ask. The 'nevermind' was with regards to - other things.» A pause. «What I feel... I...

«When you left Dancitron, or - any of the times you've pushed me away, shoved me out. It's awful, Prowl, it pains me, nearly physically. And I know - outwardly I'm often frustrated, I'll admit, but - the hurt of it takes a second to kick in, like a sudden energon blade in my side. And then it lasts, and Primus almighty does it fester, too. Hours, days - however long, until you let me back in. Because if left to myself with no input, shut off, ignored - what else can I do with the pain but speculate why you decided to inflict it? Why I wasn't worth sticking around for, wasn't worth - worth including?» Tarantulas left off with another shaky vent, but the pause did little to help. Just - get this over with.

«...And you know what I think of, during those times, Prowl? What I feel then? I feel - so small. Sometimes - boxed, scolded, ignored, and... This might not make any sense, but most of all - inconvenient. As if your affection for me may be there, but it's misplaced, an irritant, a bother. You've got so much better... so, why? Why should you want this too? You don't need this.» A weak, tittering laugh. Really, Prowl, who in their right minds would even want an awful, untrustworthy, over-emotional, half-alien monstrosity in the first place? Not that Tarantulas was going to say that much aloud, but still.

Prowl

«... It's n...»

No. Tarantulas just said he doesn't want Prowl to explain. So don't explain.

What does that leave for him to say? Tarantulas doesn't want apologies unless they meet his criteria, and Prowl's too tired to figure out if any apology he could make could meet Tarantulas's standards. I don't want you to feel that way was just—worthless. It didn't do anything. It was little better than a whine. What's left for him to say? What options does he have?

«... Is that rhetorical?»

Tarantulas

After all that, Tarantulas couldn't help but laugh a little more. All that, and that was the question Prowl went for.

«You know, I'm not sure. If you do have an answer for it, go on - go right ahead. I - I want to hear it.»

Prowl

Dammit. «I—no. I was...» He was hoping the question was rhetorical, but obligated to check in case it wasn't.

This. This is why Prowl can't ask questions. This is why Prowl can't check and confirm. Because things like this happen. If he hadn't checked, the question would have been rhetorical. Because he checked, it no longer was rhetorical, and now Tarantulas will be hurt by a lack of an answer—and Prowl can't give an answer.

«I can't answer questions like that. I'll make it worse.»

Tarantulas

«But that means you have an answer. Are we really going to play that game, Prowl?» A sort of despair tinged Tarantulas's vocals. «So you're dead set on reinforcing restless ignorance instead of admitting a painful truth? Just - out with it, Prowl, I'm - I'm tired of this.»

Prowl

«I...»

Silence.

He can't even get his words to— Where did his vocalizer go? Function, dammit!

«N—» FUNCTION! «N—no, the truth isn't painful, but I c—I can't—I can't say it. I can't say—good things. They sound wrong. I ruin them. I can't.»

Tarantulas

Tarantulas wasn't sure whether to put his helm in his paws again or get up and start pacing. Why. Why did Prowl have to do this. Even if he didn't mean to, Prowl knew exactly how to twist Tarantulas's spark in the most bittersweet ways.

«You - you haven't even tried yet. Give it a chance - I'm asking you. Please. It's - I'm - I'm not a mind-reader either, Prowl. If you don't say it, I can't possibly know what it is in the first place, regardless of how it's delivered.»

Prowl

«I can't.» That was one thing he knew was true—one thing he could say confidently. His spark sputtered, his arms shook so hard he couldn't keep holding his hands to his face, his fuel tank threatened to turn inside out, at the mere thought of doing otherwise. «I can't. I can't.» Maybe if it had been any conversation but this one. Maybe if he'd had time to prepare—if it had been his choice—if he wasn't already so exhausted and nervewracked he felt like he was falling apart. But if he even tries to open his mouth to say what Tarantulas wants the best he might get to come out is a croak. «I can't.»

Tarantulas

Four times, Prowl had said it. Four times, an assertion that he couldn't say what he actually thought - felt? - and each time he asserted it, Tarantulas felt worse and worse. Not worse for himself, though. Worse for Prowl.

Since Tarantulas was hovering somewhere between crying and sighing, he just let the silence hang there for a bit. What could he even say? He'd let Prowl know how he felt, and now Prowl couldn't answer.

«...When - when do you think you could, maybe? Ever?»

Prowl

«I d...»

... Say something. Say something. Anything. Please say something. Don't make Tarantulas think you abandoned him again. Don't make him feel inconvenient. Don't make him feel like a burden. Say something. Just say something. Please say something. Please.

His processor fans were so loud he couldn't hear the outside world, and his head was still hot. He fumbled under his shin armor for his cache of magnets—he needed something else to focus on. The conversation was a labyrinth and he kept getting turned around and ending up farther from the exit, he can't keep going like this or he's going to fry his processor. He needed to refocus and try again—and fast.

It took him four times to get something out from under his armor. It was Tarantulas's magnets. Prowl stared at them.

And then, in a fit of uncalculated desperation, seized a snapshot of the magnets in his hand, HUD and all, and sent it to Tarantulas. There. A picture. A reason for Prowl to want Tarantulas. It's the smallest and least important reason but it's a start. Tarantulas's magnets in Prowl's hands, Prowl's HUD covering them with the arcing lines of magnetic fields and calculations about their strength.

Just, pay no mind to how fuzzy the edges of the picture are. Or the low fuel warning. Or the desperately low energy warning. Or the angry exclamation-point-in-a-triangle Processor Meltdown Imminent warning. He didn't have time to take those off the HUD.

Tarantulas

How could Tarantulas possibly ignore those? It took him a moment to fully register what the image was in the first place because of all the interference. In fact, the meaning behind the magnets was all but lost on him for now.

With a start, he leapt out of his seat, nearly yelling into his comm unit. « Prowl! Prowl, that's not 'tired,' that's - you're going offline you idiot -»

But what could Tarantulas do about it? Prowl probably wasn't going to listen to him if he told him to refuel and recharge - Tarantulas wasn't even sure Prowl could do it for himself at this point. And Tarantulas was forbidden from coming over, full stop. He could still try to go and face the consequences later, but -

Immediately Tarantulas shot a slew of pings at the Constructicons' communal commlink, attaching Prowl's HUD snapshot to the barrage. As much as he hated it, they'd have to be his first go-to here.

Prowl

The first thing Tarantulas got from the Constructicons was «FRAG OFF!»

The second thing Tarantulas got was «Seriously, frag off!»

Tarantulas

Nope, definitely not fragging off. Tarantulas still had Prowl on the other line, too, but had him muted now.

«Do you WANT Prowl to go offline? Primus, go get him a cube, please, or - is there something else you can do, maybe? I -»

Prowl

«If Prowl wants to fuel, he can fuel himself! He's been refusin' to eat. That's on him.»

«He knows how to feed himself and initiate a defrag.»

«Torque off, bug. We're dealin' with our own scrap, we can't deal with Prowl's too.»

Tarantulas

Refusing to eat? Dealing with their own scrap? What in the pits was going on over there?

«Why is he refusing to eat!? And why don't you care that he's on the edge of a meltdown - I - I've never even seen that warning before!» Alright, time to start pacing frantically. «I will come over if you all aren't going to help with this. Is that what you want?»

Prowl

«We don't know, he ain't tellin' us! He just stopped!»

«It means yer overwhelmin' him! That's what it means! Meltdown warnin' means leave boss the frag alone!»

Tarantulas

Tarantulas skidded to a stop. Wait, meltdown - a sort of mental meltdown? Was Tarantulas actually the problem here? Was he pushing Prowl toward - ah frag. He'd known he was stressing Prowl out, but this, whatever it was, on top of low fuel and energy -

Without so much as a ping, Tarantulas dropped the line and switched back over to Prowl, a nervous whine in his voice. «Please go get some energon, Prowl. Please. I don't know what's going on, but I need you to at least do that much for me.» It wouldn't be a cure-all, but at least if he could get him to listen to that, it'd be a step in the right direction.

Prowl

Dammit. Prowl's fingers seized shut around the magnets. He'd been making progress, and now he was going to lose it. He didn't think he could speak again yet.

Months ago, the first time Prowl plugged into Metroplex, Starscream and Soundwave had threatened to unplug him before Metroplex had finished the proper eject procedures; and Prowl was unable to speak enough to get out a sentence, much less to say that by unplugging him prematurely they were threatening him with brain damage. Metroplex solved the problem by blasting Soundwave with a loud enough burst of data to give him an instant headache.

Now, Prowl forwarded that exact same data burst to Tarantulas.

It looked something like this.

Tarantulas

Yeesh. Well, that was one way to make a point. Tarantulas was stunned into silence, his processor buzzing from the sudden onslaught of signal, his visor even fritzing out for a moment.

What - what did that mean? Aside from the obvious, of course. Did Prowl want him to stop talking entirely, to hang up? If that meant it'd tip Prowl into meltdown, Tarantulas decided he'd better listen. But Primus, it was hard. All Tarantulas could think about was how low all Prowl's levels were and how awful he'd sounded before he'd sent the image with his HUD...

So he stayed on the line, but muted it. He'd be there whenever - if ever - Prowl decided he was ready to reinitiate contact.

Prowl

For six, seven minutes, there was nothing from Prowl's end. He'd let himself get pushed far closer to a full processor crash than he'd allow in any other circumstances, and it was going to take longer than normal to get stabilized.

But once he was back at acceptable levels—once the processor meltdown warning was gone and his head wasn't burning and he could hear past his fans again—he started sending pictures, all taken from the view of his own optics, all with his incessant numbers and calculations overlaying everything.

Prowl's fingers, curled in the fur of Tarantulas's chest; his hands are covered with hundreds of tiny pinpricks of light and the whole image is covered with lines of thousands of numbers, calculations pertaining to the motion of every single individual setae he can feel, crowding out every other warning, every other worry, every other thought.

Pieces of Tarantulas's blueprints for his own body, Prowl's notes overlaid on top, curves calculated to trace every edge of his body, sweeping lines demonstrating where his parts would connect to each other as he transformed, an analysis of the basic geometry of Tarantulas's body—the only art Prowl knows how to appreciate.

The look of intense focus on Tarantulas's face, web strung between his paws in a thread Jacob's ladder.

Tarantulas resting with his arms crossed on Prowl's lap, head lifted just slightly enough to show off his visor curved in a wry little smile.

The top half of an image showing the bottom edge of the blueprints for Windchill's gun, the bottom half showing Prowl holding Tarantulas's paw over Prowl's own interface array, calculations running along the side of his HUD, testing out combinations of permittivities and molecular structures for different piezoelectric crystals.

Tarantulas's head tiredly tucked against Prowl's chest, the rest of his body slumped along the length of Prowl's, web hammock curling up on either side of them.

Prowl's never going to be able to say out loud what it is that draws him to Tarantulas. Not to Tarantulas himself. And images alone can't demonstrate it, not when so much of it is in how Tarantulas thinks, in the way their minds play off each other's, in the wild mental energy Tarantulas brings to all his work.

But please—let it be better than nothing.

Tarantulas

It was definitely better than nothing. Infinitely so. The images took Tarantulas completely by surprise; he'd been expecting a single word at best. But this...

Slowly Tarantulas sank back into his seat, a paw clutching at his chest, as he pored over what Prowl had sent. So it'd started with the magnets, and it tumbled out from there - was Prowl trying to show him what he couldn't possibly say? What did it mean?

Magnets. Fur. Blueprints. Silk ladder. Visor smile. Nucleon rifle. Cuddling. All of these were things Tarantulas had offered to Prowl, experiences they'd shared, and positive ones at that. They gripped Tarantulas's spark and wouldn't let go - a sort of patronus drowning out the insidious shadows of doubt, frustration, and despair he'd been fixating on before. This - this was why Prowl wanted him, then? These small, precious moments. At least this was something to cling to, however cryptic the images were.

«Prowl... oh Prowl...» Tarantulas relaxed the paw on his chest, letting it join the other one in his lap. «Th - thank you. I... don't know what to say, I...» A deep ventilation. «I love you too, Prowl, I do, so very much. And I want you safe. Please take care of yourself...»

Prowl

«... Don't—»

Words, words. Come back. Function again. Let's go.

«Don't—change the topic.»

Tarantulas

A moment of hovering confusion, then: «Which topic? I - that is, I mentioned two, and I'm not purposefully diverting from anything, I - I promise.»

Prowl

«Don't start talking about me.» Prowl knew that voice. He'd heard that voice before. It was the voice of someone who'd decided Prowl had problems and who had decided it was their business and obligation to talk to Prowl about the problems they thought he had. «This is about you. Your feelings.»

Tarantulas

«We can't have a conversation about my damned feelings when your systems are about to shut down! And besides, my feelings are about you right now, I'm concerned. I can't just ignore that.»

Prowl

«I told you—what was it?—FOUR TIMES that I was tired, and each of those times you concluded that your emotional state was more important than my physical state. My physical state has not changed since the first time I said I was tired, so neither has the fact that your emotional state takes precedence to it. Stay on topic. You're miserable because of me and I'm not allowed to prevent it from getting worse by hanging up so I need to fix it.»

Tarantulas

«I'm not miserable!» For some reason the word felt strange coming out of Tarantulas's vocalizer. «And I didn't know the extent of your physical depletion, you can't fault me for that. I'm more affected right now by your present condition than I am by what we were talking about before, and besides, the images, they - they helped.»

Prowl

«They're just images. They don't undo the fact that I am systematically doing something wrong.»

Tarantulas

«But what if it's a matter of perspective?» Tarantulas could feel a part of himself wilting. Prowl might be partially right, but Tarantulas couldn't bring himself to think about it anymore, not with the way things were right now. «You did say sorry, and I - I know you meant it. Isn't all we can do now just - move forward?»

Prowl

«"Sorry" is only an apology if it comes with an effort to rectify the situation. Without that, it's only an emotional statement. I need to know what I'm doing wrong so I can do it right.»

Tarantulas

«I - thought I elaborated on that already. Maybe you can...» What did Tarantulas even want? It was impossible to say - from what he could tell, it boiled down to wanting more attention, but there was no way he'd ever ask for that. Not outright.

«...How about - not ignoring me, like earlier? Trying your best not to, that is. Or having some sort of... signal? If you can't or don't feel like speaking at the moment, etcetera. And not leaving suddenly. Please.» Certainly not all-encompassing, but a start.

Prowl

«Not leaving suddenly, not ignoring you, yes, but—you were upset before I did that. That was... that was the last straw, not the cause. And you—say it's happened before, but won't tell me when. There's... there's more to this. Isn't there?»

Tarantulas

«I told you I'd go back and - and find other instances like earlier if you wanted me to, though I'd rather not. I - think that's the main gist of it. I don't know how else to explain it, Prowl, I simply... it's...» Rapidly Tarantulas was shrinking away from the subject. For some reason it just felt wrong now, to problem-solve like this. And maybe it was easier to go back to ignoring whatever problem there'd been until it overwhelmed them again.

Prowl

«... Is that all I have to work with, then?»

Tarantulas

Tarantulas rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. «You say that as if it's troublesome. What else ought I say, Prowl? It's a - a feeling. A conglomerate of them, as I explained. My feelings are the problem, really. Hyeh. Pesky emotions.»

Prowl

«Feelings have causes and I'm the cause. I'm the problem. I can't fix the problem without enough information about what it is. That's all the information I'm getting, isn't it.»

Tarantulas

Tarantulas huffed into the commlink. «What do you want, Prowl? I wouldn't have brought any of this up if I knew exactly what the problem was and how to ameliorate it! I don't know how any of this works, I -»

...Was that what he'd meant to say? He didn't know how this worked? What was 'this'? Internally Tarantulas cringed. Yes, he knew what 'this' was, and it stung a little to think about.

Prowl

Silence. «... I don't know.»

He held back a sigh. «This isn't—it's not supposed to be about what I want. It's what you want. If that's all you want to share...» Then Prowl will take his feelings of helpless uselessness, and his fear that he'll be unable to fix a thing because the problem to be fixed is so obvious that normal people are incapable of even explaining the problem to someone like him, and the corresponding terror that this whole conversation is just foreshadowing to a miserable and mutually painful breakup that Prowl will be powerless to prevent—and he'll stomp them down and lock them up, so they don't become Tarantulas's problem. Tarantulas was trying to unload his burden, not adopt Prowl's. «... then, that's that, I suppose.»

Tarantulas

«But it's not, is it.» Tarantulas stewed in that for a minute. «Can we... can we settle this now, and if I think of something more I ought to say, I'll say it then.»

Prowl

«Why are you ask—? I don't know whether or not it is.»

Settle it? Settling it implies a resolution. Settling it implies a solution. Settling implies fixing. «... Can we?»

No. Wrong answer. «If you want to.»

Tarantulas

«...I think I would prefer it. Although - quite honestly, I won't be able to think of much else besides your HUD after having seen what condition you're in now, so it's not as if I'll be doing anything significant if we do hang up. It's - up in the air.»

Prowl

«... Is there the slightest possible chance that if we don't hang up, we are going to make any more progress.»

Tarantulas

«...I don't know.» Tarantulas's absolute least favorite phrase to use.

Prowl

«... Then it doesn't matter.»

Tarantulas

Part of Tarantulas was tempted to drop the line there, he wasn't sure why - but he didn't.

«We should - we should talk another time, then. Not now. Sometime less... delicate, I think.» A pause. «But you have to promise me you're going to refuel and recharge soon, Prowl. Can you swear that?»

Prowl

«Of course I'm going to refuel and recharge. The only reason I'm not trying to recharge right now is because—» No. Stop. That sounds too much like blaming Tarantulas. And it's already too late for it to not sound like blaming Tarantulas, isn't it?

«... The only reason I'm this low on fuel is because I'm missing a day of work and the previous day was... draining. I'll refuel as soon as I get to work tomorrow and be fine.»

Tarantulas

Yep, too late, Prowl. But Tarantulas took the guilt and defensive ire that'd surged up and swallowed it back down without saying anything.

«Is that a promise, then?»

Prowl

«Yes. It's a promise. I was going to do it anyway.»

Tarantulas

Tarantulas sighed quietly. «...Thank you. I - I love you dearly, Prowl, never forget that.»

Prowl

«I know.» There were times when it felt more like a burden. This was one.

Tarantulas

Tarantulas let silence settle in for a moment. Primus, how he wished Prowl could say those words back to him... but that would be asking far too much, and he knew it.

«I - shouldn't keep you from recharge, so I suppose, unless there's anything else... Goodnight.»

Prowl

"Good night."

He waited another moment, to ensure that Tarantulas wasn't going to say anything else; and then ended the comm.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, curled up tighter, buried his face in his knees, and folded his hands over the back of his head.

He'd promised he was going to try to sleep, and he was. But he didn't think he'd succeed.

#chat #araneamechanica

2 notes · View notes