#i have seen enough bots to sense when something could be a bot

[tuesziday]

Update: Tumblr has addressed this with a notice/warning, but now people are attacking it and calling staff heartless monsters or whatever for insinuating that someone could lie about being a victim of an active genocide

Update 2:

Went to the guide and noticed this quote people are overlooking—

We want to highlight, though, that these bad actors are very small drops in a sea of genuine posts and content. Not all requests and messages are scams—very few are when we investigate them. However, automated spamming and fraudulent links do occur, and we take strict action against these.

Tumblr Staff SHOULD be scrutinized and they have a rough history of mistreating minorities. There are more insidious things to call them out for. I think the scam warning is being blown out of proportion.

Is anyone else getting an onslaught of bots pretending to be Palestinians?

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any headcanons for the bots' fears/phobias? Specifically TFP

The only one I have is that Bumblebee is, ironically, afraid of bees for no reason other than I thought it would be funny. I'd like to hear your takes!

Hmm I think their fears would go something like this:

Arcee: Terrified of blood.

She's seen too much energon over the course of her long life. Watching so many good mecha die and losing both her partners has left her with a strange apathy to energon. She's grown used to it. But blood? Human blood is vibrant and so different and yet so similar. When she sees blood, it ignites old horrors and memories she's long tried to suppress. Her servos shake when one of the children ends up getting a cut large enough for her to notice. It's all too similar for her to handle.

Bulkhead: Afraid of Deep Water

Bulkhead is a big mech, one lacking in serious dexterity. He's a combat and manual labor unit and he knows it. When he was young, he fell into a solvent pool, and while unharmed, he was so heavy that he couldn't get out on his own. He was trapped there for almost a whole cycle, and now that he knows what lurks in Earth's waters, he's terrified of falling in and possibly being crushed to death by either the pressure or something that lurks in the deep. He hasn't fallen in any deep water yet, but he's terrified that it may happen and much prefers the desert.

Bumblebee: Scared of Being Alone

The fear of being alone stemmed all the way back from Bumblebee's sparklinghood. Growing up in a time of war meant that he was often left to his own devices cooped up in a base or safehouse while the grown mechs went off to war. He came to despise being left alone, and so joined the war effort both to help and to be with them. The fear of being alone only grew after he lost his voice to Megatron. When he's alone, he sometimes hears the Warlord taunting him. This can lead him to spiral badly, and so he relies heavily on others for support. This is part of the reason he bonded so well with the children.

Ratchet: Paranoid of Biological Agents

Being a Doctor, Ratchet has seen many things. Not a lot bothers him anymore, save for scraplets. But in his mind, that's not even a fear. It's common sense. But with that said, the Cybonic plague awoke in Ratchet a fear he'd never realized lurked within him. After that great plague, he now fears biological agents above all else. Not necessarily germs, but anything that could become a weapon of war. Contaminated items especially. In that regard, he is an increadible germaphobe when it comes to his supplies and will grow frantic if anything is brought into his medical bay that reeks of disease.

Ultra Magnus: Fear of the Dark

Being inside the Magnus armor means that Ultra Magnus, or perhaps Minimus, is entirely reliant on the armor's optical systems to see. The fear of the dark developed the first time he lost his sight and was completely incapable of maneuvering the armor, effectively leaving him open to any and all attacks since he couldn't use his personal field or even his senses to navigate. He has told no one about his fear, but when the lights go out, he often panics and instinctually enters a state of fight or flight out of a pure primal fear that something may harm him even within his armor. The team doesn't understand. Only Optimus knows why Ultra Magnus goes to recharge with a nightlight.

Smokescreen: Frightened by Fires

Smokescreen's fear stems from his time in the Archive. It is a new fear, one he has not fully realized. But seeing Iacon burning and the Archive coming down around him, destroying the home he'd known for so long... it changed him. At the time he was too busy being enthralled in the thrill of potential battle to care. But now, whenever he sees fire in close proximity, he automatically flies into a combat position, often lashing out at the first thing that moves simply because he associates fire with foes. Anything greater than a candle unsettles him.

Wheeljack: Unsettled by Connections

He doesn't talk about it. Ever. However, from what Bulkhead knows, Wheeljack got very attached to his ragtag family back when he was young and promptly lost them all one at a time. He tried to get attached to fellow workers before the war, but every connection fell through. Now he doesn't bother and actively flees anything that could feel like it weighs him down. He's scared of caring enough to actually cry when someone dies. Bulkhead is a rare exception to his rule of no connection, and it is simply because Bulkhead has lasted this long and all but demanded friendship.

Optimus: Petrified of Being Lost

The fear began when he was still Orion Pax. At the time, he got lost almost every time he travelled, and often, he ended up in frightening back alleys and dangerous situations. The fear evolved after he became Prime and now Optimus does not fear being lost in his journeys. Rather, he fears becoming lost within the grasp of the Matrix and the madness of war. It is such a real fear that often, Optimus will throw himself into days long studies after patrols, reviewing everything he knows about Cybertron and the corruption of the Council just so he can reaffirm who he is.

Just so he won't lose himself to the tempting thought of letting go of his morality.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Not sure how old Gidel is but how about we get to see him and Cheka meeting? and then big bros Leona and Fellow can watch their kids play with each other haha

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Fellow liked to think of himself as decent at arithmetic. Numbers made sense, had clear-cut definitions to them. They could be manipulated in predictable ways. Added, subtracted, divided.

He also knew that children don't just magically multiply--which was why he did a hard double take when he glanced back and found two figures trotting after him, not one.

"... Who the hell's this?" Fellow demanded, thrusting his fox-tipped cane at the second boy. "You seen this guy before, Giddie?"

Gidel furiously shook his head.

The new child, a lion cub with a fiery orange mane, stared up at Fellow with wide caramel eyes. “Hiya! Have you seen my ojitan? I'm lookin' for him."

"Your ojitan?" Fellow blinked. He combed through the NRC staff in his head. Not a single lion beastman came to mind. Shoot, looks like I can't hold him for a handsome ransom. "Nope, can't say I have. You might be lookin' in the wrong place, kiddo. Try Foothill Town."

"I don't have enough money for the bus fare. I used what I had to take the bus here,” the bot explained. “Plus, Kifaji might still be waiting for me back in town.”

Kifaji? Must be the brat’s babysitter.

"Well, sorry. Afraid I can't help ya. C'mon, Giddie. Let's get going." Fellow turned and took a few paces. The familiar clumsy footsteps of his little brother didn't follow.

He stopped and glanced back, finding Gidel pawing at the pendant looped around the lion cub's neck. It was beaded with vibrant colors, with a large circular silver medallion and a cerulean feather hanging off of it.

"Oh! You like my necklace?"

Gidel nodded.

"Hehe. Kifaji says it's my special charm. It helps me find my way home when I'm lost." A pause. "Do you wanna try it on since you don't have one?"

Gidel's eyes widened. He reached for his top hat and offered it to the cub. A fair trade, he seemed to suggest.

"Oi, Gidel!" Fellow hissed. "Now's not the time for fun and games!"

His protests went unnoticed, however. The lion cub plopped the top hat on red mane, and Gidel slipped the feathered pendant over his head.

"Ahahah! You look so good in that!"

Gidel shyly waved a hand at the other child. You too.

"Your name's Gidel?" The lion cub gave a huge grin. "I'm Cheka. Let's be friends!"

Shock slipped over his facial features. Friends? Gidel hadn't thought it possible. He moved around too much, could never plant his feet in the ground.

Something in his chest fluttered with excitement. Friends, for real? Could he really have them?

“Oh no, ya don’t!”

Suddenly, Cheka was yanked back by the scruff of his shirt. Gidel, too, fell backward, pulled by Fellow by the sleeve. He had half a mind to scold Gidel for talking to strangers--but his mouth went dry when he met the gaze of another beast.

Green, proud.

"Y-You're...!!"

"Ojitan!!" Cheka squealed in delight.

"Don't 'ojitan' me!" Leona scowled, keeping his grip on the child firm. "You keep runnin' off from your guards like that, and ol' Kifaji will blow a blood vessel. He wouldn't stop spam calling me until I nabbed you for him. You're going back to the old coot ASAP."

"Noooo, I wanted to play with you and my new friend!" Cheka protested, flailing his limbs.

"Not on my watch, you aren't. Kiss your ‘new friend’ good-bye.” Leona glared at the top hat Cheka wore. “And trade that back.”

“Hold on a sec!!” Fellow cried out. “Did you just say this kid has bodyguards?!”

Bodyguards… and related to this pompous NRC student… That means he’s loaded!! Well, at least his parents are. Operation Handsome Ransom is still possible!!

“Heeey, Cheka-kun! How would you like to come over for a playdate with Giddie?” Fellow asked sweetly, honey dripping from his voice as he wrung his hands together. (Gidel looked confused until Fellow elbowed him, forcing the boy to give a vigorous nod.)

Leona narrowed his eyes at the conman. "Nice try, omnivore. That trick won't work on me. Find some other sucker. Cheka, we're leaving."

"Ojitaaan, lemme down! I don’t wanna leave yet!”

"No."

"C-Come back, Cheka-kun! This Uncle Fellow Honest-sama has a neat magic trick to show you!"

“Go away!”

"...!!"

"By the Sevens..." Leona groaned. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Let it go already!!"

[jules-ln]

Viktor is literally art nouveau

I was looking at Viktor's design in league of legends and it hit me, Viktor in Arcane IS Art Nouveau

Not literally but yes literally in a way lmao

Let me walk you through my thought process

I was looking at the league of legends design, and I thought that the fact that Viktor still had hair was weird if the whole point of Viktor is human bad machine good, then why does he has something as human as hair?

Then I thought about the Arcane Herald design, and it actually made more sense that this Viktor still had hair, why? Just look at his robots

The first thing that called my attention was their shoes, because those aren't normal heels, no, those are heelless heels! and let me tell you

1) Viktor isn't straight (no straight man would know and like those shoes, you can't fool me)

2) That's like the worst shoes you could ask for to fight/run in, do you know how easy is to fall with those shoes? No, they aren't practical, those shoes are merely for visual pleasure

And it doesn't seems like Viktor would be the kind of man that would put looks above functionality but then you think about how his designs in general have a very heavy preference for art nouveau; which, is also very much beauty over function

His robots have the asymmetry, A flowing organic shape, a preference for a feminine figure, the reference to flora on the patterns. They're are art nouveau bots and theres no way to deny that, and Viktor's Herald design is too, to some extent

Again, preference for a feminine figure, flowing organic shapes, his staff looks like a tree (kinda), asymmetry to some extent (not as much a his robots), hair (very important). You can reasonably say that it was at least inspired by art nouveau

Then we have the design of his room/house in the commune, it's pretty much art nouveau inspired too. I've seen some people say that Viktor made this to reference the Hexgates because he missed Jayce, but now I'm thinking, what if it wasn't that he missed Jayce, but more that the Hexgates were originally his design

And listen, I know I know, both worked on the hexgates, both should be credited equally, but realistically, I think it's fair to say that both of them probably had different levels of involvement on different things? So what if Viktor was the one with the original idea for the outside design and Jayce then added the art deco elements? Then Viktor repeated it on the commune with a more art nouveau style simply because he likes it?

And you might ask. Why does it matters? Why does the fact that Viktor likes art nouveau means that he's the personification of art nouveau?

Well; now to the point, I studied a little of art history on college, and I was a bit obsessed with art nouveau back then, and you know what was the goal of it?

Art nouveau was made to bring art to the common person, to have every day objects being a piece of art. It was supposed to get art away from the rich and to give it to everyone. But it failed

And you know why Art Nouveau failed and was quickly abandoned?

Two things, 1) it was too expensive, and 2) World War 1

So ironically Art Nouveau ended up being too expensive to reach the people they wanted to help so it stayed a rich people thing, and then it had to be abandoned almost completely because of WW1; there weren't enough materials to make it and a lot of people that became poor because of the war didn't have the money to spend on it

It was very short lived even when it made a big impact on history (That reminds me of someone)

Now compare art nouveau's history to what happened to Viktor (And Jayce)

They wanted to make magic accessible to the common people, to help; but it ended up being so that Hextech only helped people in Piltover to get richer while people in Zaun got worse and worse

Then something happened, a war, and both Viktor and Jayce had to abandon their dreams

Add to that the name art nouveau means new art, and in Spain it was called "Modernismo" Why? Because it wanted to be the future of art, young, refreshing, a bright future different from the past. Who else wanted to be the future of something? Men of progress who?

Viktor (and Jayce to some extent but I think he's more art deco lmao) IS Art Nouveau. It's his story

(And funnily enough, you can find art nouveau in Zaun, but I don't remember ever seeing art deco in Zaun, while it's the main thing on Piltover)

(Also also, I have some thoughts about Jayce being Art Deco, but that's for maaaybe later lmao)

Listen I'm a death of the author guy, I'm going to find meaning on my own. But either someone in the art department had to know the history of art nouveau and made a point of making it Viktor's main style (because it is Viktor's style, like I showed before), or it's just an extremely funny and fitting coincidence

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[weenwrites]

Decepticons/autobots of your choice reacting to gn reader that is 7'0 and is in the military and always cover their face up (like ghost from call of duty modern warfare) because of one mission that went wrong and they have scars on their face and body from the failed mission and they think the bots/cons of your choice will call them ugly but soon they got comfortable with them and showed them their face?

I just need some angst and fluff and the end and oh! Make gn reader cry when the bots/cons call them beautiful.

Dont forget to drink some water and eat something!

Have a good year :D

✎A/N: I am so sorry this took an eternity to get out.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

When he initially met you, your height certainly helped to make you stand out from all the other humans he's seen (which isn't many), however it wasn't enough. It's like seeing a large, blue marble in a pile of smaller blue marbles. Strange, but not surprising or interesting for long, and eventually it becomes just something that happens to be that way. Once the initial intrigue wore off, he thought that would be that, yet he was wrong.

Your abilities and skills proved to be rather impressive, and he surmised that were you not human, but rather a cybertronian among his ranks your skill would surpass even the skill of some of the more elite vehicons among their ranks. Despite your circumstances, you managed to overcome the unthinkable, and as such you rightfully earned his respect.

Megatron doesn't see scars as anything ugly or shameful, he sees them as medals of valor—as signs that you survived something that tried to take your life, and he believes that's something to be proud of. His love for you goes deeper than superficial appearances, after all you have earned his respect and admiration with more than just your looks. So of course he wouldn't think any less of you, scars or no scars.

Arcee

She initially never thought much of how you always hid your face. If anything, she just assumed it was part of your uniform and since you were busy with work a majority of the time she figured that's the reason you kept it on so often. Granted, she's heard the kids talk about it and theorize why you wear it so much that it's gotten her the slightest bit interested (and amused at their theories).

Scars can be ugly things, she understands that well. And not just ugly in the sense that they can be disturbing to look at but rather in reference to the deeper, more complicated feelings surrounding them as well as how they got there in the first place. It'll forever mar your body, and depending on what caused it, that scar could haunt you both physically and mentally. She can understand your feelings surrounding your own scars, believe her, she has many of her own that she has complicated feelings around.

But though you're covered head to toe in scars, she'd truthfully tell you that they do not change the way she feels about you in the slightest. She doesn't find them repulsive or disgusting since she can sympathize with the pain surrounding your scars.

Bulkhead

Given the fact the two of you happen to share similar experiences, it wasn't difficult for a sense of camaraderie and friendship to grow rather fast (though it could've happened the same way regardless of whether he knew about your background or not). Whether you were fond of sharing accounts of your previous battles or not, Bulkhead was certainly one to tell a tale of his own experiences.

The way he recounted the tale with descriptive, and riveting words made it easy to forget the fact he was telling a tale about a bloody war he experienced first-hand. But as time grew on, these tales slowly transitioned from stories about the war to stories about his life before it happened. His experiences in construction, silly happenstances that he looks back upon fondly, and old friends that are likely long gone.

It's ironic, you'd think he'd be happier to speak about times before the war and yet it's only harder for him. It's clear in the way he seems to begin to trail off, and loose his train of thought as he reminisces over what he had, and how things used to be.

His view of his scars starkly contrasts your own. He views scars as something to boast—something to be proud of—something that shows that he leapt into something ugly and beat, shot, punched, and smashed his way out of it to walk away to tell the tale. The way he sees it, those scars are a sign that you survived to be here with him today, and he wouldn't have you any differently.

Perhaps as the two of you bond, his own way of thinking about his scars begins to rub off on you too, and you start to see these scars in a different light. With each compliment he gives you in passing from day to day, the sadness or shame once associated with them grows smaller in comparison to the swelling newfound sense of pride.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | history. . . loading⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

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Over the next few years, things began to change. You noticed the distance between you and Rain growing, the once-strong bond you shared slowly fraying like the worn-out edges of an old blanket.

It wasn't something you could put your finger on at first, just a creeping sense of separation that settled in your chest whenever you caught sight of her from across the room.

You'd see her more often now with the colony kids, laughing and chatting, a bright spark among the worn and weary.

At first, you were happy to see her connecting with others, but then you realized she was spending more time with them than she was with you.

It hurt, but you understood. She needed friends her own age, a distraction from the hardships that seemed to hover over all of your lives like a dark cloud.

You were about 19, maybe 20, when everything took a darker turn. You'd been freelancing for a while—small jobs that kept you under the radar, nothing too flashy.

That was until a desperate small business, teetering on the edge of collapse, sought your skills.

You were hesitant, but the pay was decent, and the work seemed straightforward enough: hacking into some old systems, unlocking what was needed to keep them afloat.

And it was a success. Or at least, you thought it was.

But success came with consequences. You didn't realize you’d been tracked, not until someone with far more power than you could fathom found you.

They came to you with an ultimatum, their voice smooth but with an undercurrent of steel that sent a chill down your spine: work for them, take on any job they needed, or they’d turn you over to Weyland-Yutani.

You knew what that meant. You'd seen enough to understand the company didn’t tolerate dissent, especially from a former prodigy with a name they hadn't forgotten.

That's when your life took a dangerous path. You agreed to their terms, the fear of what could happen if you didn't outweighing any hesitation.

The jobs started simple but quickly escalated. Hacking turned into more complex coding, cracking into secure systems, sometimes even building or reprogramming androids and bots���a skill you honed under Marcus's watchful eye.

The pay was good, better than anything you could have made in the colony, and for a while, it seemed worth it.

But it wasn't just the money that kept you going. The promise of protection from other dangerous groups, black-market dealers who might see your skills as a threat, was a lifeline you couldn’t ignore.

To protect Rain and her family, your small, adopted family, you began staying out later, sometimes disappearing for days at a time. At first, Marcus and his wife were upset, worried about your well-being and what could be keeping you away.

Rain, especially, couldn't understand why you'd suddenly become so distant, why you weren't around as much. Her confusion and hurt were plain to see, and it tore at you in ways you couldn't explain.

Marcus eventually eased up on the questioning after he found you one night in the throes of a particularly bad meltdown. You'd come home after a job went sideways—something you hadn't anticipated, a system you couldn't crack in time, and the fallout had been brutal.

You couldn't tell Marcus what had happened, not exactly, but he didn’t push. He simply sat with you in the dim light of the kitchen, his presence a steady, calming force as you tried to pull yourself back together.

"If you ever need to talk," he'd said softly, his voice thick with the kind of understanding only someone who’d lived through hardship could have, "I'm here. You know that, right?"

You nodded, though you knew you'd never burden him with the weight of what you were involved in. This was a part of your life you'd chosen to keep to yourself, a dark secret that had become a necessary evil. And even though you trusted Marcus, you couldn't bring yourself to let him in on this one truth.

But life has a cruel way of taking away the things you hold dear, doesn't it?

Just a few weeks after your 21st birthday, Marcus and his wife fell ill. The colony's cold, damp air had always been harsh, but the pneumonia they caught from the mines was unlike anything they'd faced before.

You watched helplessly as the sickness took hold, their bodies weakened by years of toil in the toxic conditions of Jackson Star. It was like watching your own parents waste away all over again—a slow, painful decline that left you feeling powerless and lost.

Rain was a mess, her normally bright, fiery spirit dulled by the looming reality of losing her parents. She tried to stay strong, but you could see the cracks forming in her armor.

You did everything you could to help, taking over the household duties, scrounging for medicine, anything to ease their suffering, but deep down, you knew there was nothing that could be done.

The disease had sunk its claws in too deep.

One night, as you sat by Marcus's bedside, his breathing ragged and shallow, he reached out, his hand weak but insistent. You took it, holding on tightly, just like you had with your own father all those years ago. The weight of his grip was lighter than you remembered, his strength all but gone.

"Y/N…" he rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breaths. "Take care of her… take care of Rain…"

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. "I will..." you whispered, your voice breaking. "...I promise."

He smiled faintly, a shadow of his old, warm smile. "Good… that's… good…"

You stayed with him until the end, just as you had with your parents. And when the time came, when the house fell silent except for the soft sobs of Rain and the hollow echo of your own grief, you knew that once again, you were left holding onto the pieces of a shattered life.

And this time, you would do whatever it took to keep Rain safe.

No matter what.

☆

☆

Three years had passed since your adoptive parents' death, and in that time, life had only grown more complicated. You returned from your latest job—a grueling five-day ordeal that left you exhausted and hollow inside.

This time, you'd been tasked with hacking into Weyland-Yutani's high-security network, retrieving files that exposed a chilling directive: in moments of crisis, their synthetics were programmed to prioritize the company's assets over human lives, all under the guise of logical probability.

The job paid well, enough to secure you and Rain's needs for the next six months, but the price was high.

The screams and pleas of employees who’d been betrayed by the very machines meant to protect them echoed in your mind, refusing to let go. You tried to shake the images away as you made your way through the dim, narrow corridors of the small home you shared with Rain.

Entering the room, you found her curled up on your bed, her small frame wrapped around your pillow, her face buried into the soft fabric as she slept. You approached quietly, the soft sound of your footsteps barely audible over the hum of the heating unit.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you reached out and gently brushed your fingers through her hair. Rain instinctively leaned into your touch, a small sigh escaping her lips as she snuggled deeper into your pillow.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, though your heart felt heavy. Watching her sleep so peacefully, so unaware of the horrors you'd just witnessed, was both a comfort and a curse.

You knelt beside her, continuing to stroke her hair, trying to silence the panicked screams still echoing in your mind. Just as you began to lose yourself in the motion, Rain stirred.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She gave you a tired smile. "Hey," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," you replied softly, your smile widening despite the weight on your chest.

Rain's brow furrowed slightly as she looked up at you, sensing that something was off. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a little clearer, more alert.

You shook your head, stilling your hand. "Nothing," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just go back to sleep, Rain. It's late."

She hesitated but nodded, a yawn escaping her lips as she turned over, curling up again. "Okay... But could you look over Andy?” she asked sleepily, her voice trailing off. "His eyes... something's wrong with them. He's already in the workshop, in sleep mode, waiting."

"Sure, I'll take care of him," you promised, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She mumbled a thank you, already drifting back to sleep as you stood up and quietly made your way out of the room.

You moved through the darkened house, your steps light and measured to avoid waking Rain. Despite the pitch-black surroundings, you knew every inch of this place—every loose floorboard, every creaky door hinge.

It wasn't hard to navigate to the small workshop in the back, a space that had become both a sanctuary and a battlefield for your mind.

Without turning on the main lights, you reached for the small lamp on your workbench, flicking it on and casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

In the corner, covered by a sheet, was Andy. You pulled a rolling stool behind you as you approached, removing the sheet with a practiced motion to reveal the android beneath.

Andy's face was serene, almost peaceful in the dim light. The shadows cast by the lamp danced across his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the soft curve of his lips.

Despite knowing he was a machine, you couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship—the subtle blend of human and synthetic, the way his face seemed almost too real.

You reached out, gently cupping the side of his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw. His synthetic skin was cool to the touch, but familiar. Your hand moved to the side of his neck, pressing the small port to awaken him.

The change was immediate. Andy's body tensed, his right hand shooting up to grab your wrist with surprising speed and strength. His eyes flickered to life, emitting a soft glow in the darkness. "Shh, it's okay," you whispered softly, not pulling away. "Sorry to startle you."

At the sound of your voice, Andy's grip loosened, his eyes quickly focusing on you. "Y/N," he said, his voice calm and even. "You're back."

You offered him a small smile before turning to grab your diagnostics tablet. "I've only been gone for five days," you said, connecting the tablet to the port in his neck and starting the diagnostic test.

Andy blinked as if you'd made the dumbest statement ever. "Five days is more than enough time for someone to be missed."

You giggled softly at his matter-of-fact tone. "Thanks, Dee." You glanced at the screen, focusing on the data streaming in. "Rain mentioned you've been having issues with your eyes. Can you tell me more about that?"

Andy's eyes flickered for a moment before he answered. "I... I can still see, but my vision sometimes become foggy. It affecting my ability to accurately assess situations and objects."

You nodded thoughtfully, continuing to run the diagnostics as you chatted with him, your fingers moving deftly across the tablet. "I see... We'll get it sorted. So, how have things been while I was gone?"

Andy remained still, his gaze fixed on you. "Rain and I have missed you."

A warm smile tugged at your lips. "I've missed you both too." You paused, reflecting on how much had changed since the day you found Andy in that scrapyard.

Your perception of synthetics had shifted over the years.

You'd never treated them as mere machines, but having one as a constant companion had blurred the lines between man and machine.

Despite knowing he wasn't human, Andy's human-like qualities were something you cherished. They made him unique, almost... alive in a way that was hard to define.

The soft beep from the tablet pulled you back to the present. You looked down, seeing the source of the issue on the screen. "Ahh," you sighed, turning the tablet to show Andy.

The screen was filled with lines of code, complex and unintelligible to most. To anyone else, or even to an android whose primary function wasn’t related to programming, this would have been complete nonsense. But since bringing Andy back online, you'd made it your mission to always explain everything you did to him, guiding him through each process.

Part of you believed he deserved to know, a small gesture of respect for the android who had become so much more than just a machine.

But there was another reason, a darker thought that lingered in the back of your mind: the possibility that one day, you might not be around to help him.

You wanted Andy to understand his own systems and the intricacies of his coding—not just to function but to ensure he could take care of himself if the worst were ever to happen.

Andy studied the code intently, his synthetic mind processing the information with an almost human-like concentration. "There is an error in the environmental calibration subroutine," he noted, identifying part of the issue correctly.

You chuckled, impressed. "Close, Dee. But, you got most of it right." You pointed to a specific line of code. "This here—it needs an update. The last patch didn't account for the increased levels of smog and soot in the colony's air. It's affecting your visual processors."

Routine set in as you continued to work. "What is your directive, Andy?" you asked out of habit, fingers moving swiftly to implement the necessary changes.

Andy responded almost instantly. "To do what's best for Rain."

A second passed, and then he spoke again, his voice softer. "Do you ever think about changing the directive?"

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen as you looked up at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about, Dee?"

Andy hesitated for a moment, his eyes studying you with a strange intensity. "The day Marcus uploaded my directive, I remember asking him if the girl standing above me when I first came back online was Rain. He to me it was you, Y/N."

You laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Did you ask him if I was a great hacker too?"

Andy's expression remained serious, his voice steady. "No. I asked him, 'But what about what's best for Y/N?'"

Your fingers stilled on the tablet, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. You looked up at Andy, his face soft with an expression you couldn't quite place.

A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips. "What's best for me? Ha, I've never been too good at figuring that out. If I had a directive for myself, it'd probably be something like 'make everything harder than it needs to be.'"

Andy let out a low hum, his gaze unwavering. "Even if it's not my directive, just know, I'll still want what's best for you."

You blinked back the tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning your focus back to the tablet. "Thanks, Andy," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You continued your work in silence, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Andy's head tilted slightly, his eyes zeroing in on your face as if committing this moment to memory. "Of course, Y/N... anytime."

The remainder of the time was spent in a comfortable silence as you finished updating his code. You leaned back with a sigh, setting your tablet down beside you. "How are you feeling now, Andy?"

The android paused for a moment, then said, "Well, it's better than before. But if my vision gets any worse, I guess you could say... my future won't be looking 'too bright'."

You just blinked at him, taken aback by the unexpected joke, before laughter bubbled out of your lips. "Was that a 'dad joke'? Where did you learn that from?"

Andy's eyes seemed to brighten, and he sat up a little straighter. "I learned it while walking Rain to work the other day," he explained. "I like them."

You chuckled, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Andy picking up on humor. "Well, I'll be sure to learn some more and tell you. We can make it a little hobby between the two of us."

Andy nodded earnestly, his expression softening. "I'd like that. Sharing experiences can strengthens bonds."

You couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "You're right about that, Dee. We can even start a collection of the worst jokes we can find."

For a moment, the room felt lighter, the shadows less heavy. Andy's presence, his attempts at humor, made the grim reality outside these walls feel a little less suffocating.

It was moments like this that reminded you why you fought so hard to keep your small world safe, even when everything else seemed so uncertain.

A/N: Ahhhh! sorry for things moving thigns so fast with all the time skips, but if you're confused, by the end of this chapter You're like 24-ish and Rain is 21, i'm following fandom ages instead of rain's confirmed 25 age. also, sorry for the long 2 intro chapters, i know most would like to just jump right into the story, but my mind wont let the good stuff happen until it at least lay down the lil backstory 😭💀💀 man, i really need to learn to get over that, but anywhoooo, hope you guys like this enough, thoguh it isn't obvious, i want this to be a sort of a slow-burn, well, on the reader's end at least, lolol, Andy's gonna go full speed tbh, but then again, that's why he's a yandere here.... hope i dont bore you guys too much, but dont fret, next chapter will start immediately with the plot! also, someone asked me to make a tag list so i'll just put that down below:

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer

[sshadowritestoriess]

I apologize because I know you get a lot of ramattra requests, but can I request a sexually frustrated ramattra?

No problem, this was fun to think about honestly :]

Sexually Frustrated Ramattra

Ramattra is already a very stressed-out and aggravated omnic, so I am in full belief that he would not be able to recognize right away where this new kind of frustration is stemming from

And it would drive him to the brink of insanity. He would seek solutions, first: being somewhat of a workaholic, he’d frantically complete task after task until he has nothing left to finish for that day, maybe even for that week, before he finally allows himself to sit down and meditate for a few hours.

But no matter how deeply he breathes or how still he sits, no matter how many times he refreshes his thoughts and (quite literally) clears his mind, he cannot shake this internal burning feeling that nips at his very fingertips and makes him want to scream

He would resign the peaceful exercise for something more exerting; violence. Practicing the martial arts he was taught at the shambali, kicking and punching at practice-bots and dummies, reaching the point of tearing one apart limb-from-limb and ripping into the center of its intricate chassis— pulling out wires like a child would do to grass in a temper-tantrum

And then the object of his infatuation would pass him by in this all-too-embarrassing moment, asking if he was okay, and then it would click for him. But who was he to ask for that kind of aid after being seen like this?

He would assure you that he’s fine, then escapes your presence to try to take care of it himself, hiding away in his own quarters and stroking himself off with an intense quickness to try and make it go away. Refreshing his systems to rid of this error.

He’s rough with himself, leaning hard into a wall and pulling at a fistful of his cabled mane until he hears the wire enamels creak and snap in his fingers, damaging his own ‘hair’. His hands are just my no means soft, providing an intense friction around his synthetic sex.

So as the Iris would have it, his own stimulation and imagination would not be enough to satiate this cursed sense of hunger.

He would try to disconnect his copulative attachments after some failed attempts to provide himself relief, yet the cravings would remain, just slightly altered for lack of equipment. He still needed to have someone near, to feel hands that weren’t his own reaching into the crevices of his body to force his guard down. He needed to relax at someone else’s bidding. He had just had far too much time by himself and his codependence trait had finally unraveled.

And everything about it makes him angry about the entire world around him, including himself. So the second time he bumps into you, much later in the evening, he’s somewhat hunched over and marching down a hall from his headquarters, red and yellow glimpses of wires practically glowing with a display of rage from the new tears in his cables. There’s always been an air about Ramattra that seems dangerous— but now especially, it felt that he may kill the next thing that enters a ten-foot radius around him.

So you would stop before getting to close, and he’d freeze just the same, staring at you through the dark slits of his faceplate. You could see the way his shoulders rose and fell in a more exaggerated manner, as if he was breathing heavy in his anger (though he doesn’t breathe at all).

It’s not at all difficult to guess he has had a very rough day. And he would further hate himself when you cautiously ask again if he was doing alright— clearly, he wasn’t, but it was invitation to speak or ask for help. And with a small pause in reluctance, feeling far more embarrassed than he would have liked (especially for spending half the day trying to get off) he would.

“I need… assistance,” The word would be hissed out as if he had gritted teeth, “for something far more mundane and—“ he’d force his gaze away from you, “—private than our usual tasks.”

You’d ask what it is he needs, of course. There’s an air of nervousness between you both— Ramattra in fear of dragging himself further through this muddy situation, and destroying all chances of you feeling comfortable around him ever again for what he’d like to ask of you.

But he’s already found himself here and has run out of ideas, and he’s not the omnic to put things very lightly. So he’d just come out and say it.

“Sex.” The word is spat as though it offended him, and he’d drop his head toward the ground with a defeated sigh. He’d raise a hand and roll his wrist almost dismissively, “I cannot bring myself to function without this lingering frustration for the moment, so if you would like to help or have any suggestions that would ensure this feeling goes away, I would certainly appreciate it.”

[yanderes-galore]

Hi Panther,

Transformers ask? May I please make make a romantic yandere request for a oneshot with Yan!Tarn with a Neutral!Bot reader and propmts 2, 30, and 46. I was thinking of the idea in fannon where Deceptacon culture dictates the dominant con claws or bites a nasty wound that scars as a mark as “Mine” usually as a mate.

Sure, I'm not well versed in Transformers fanon as I try to keep it as canon as possible. Yet the concept seems pretty basic so I'll try.

Still relatively new to the comics and I'm not that far so if information is off, that's why.

Energon is depicted as pink in this as the comics usually use this as the color from what I've seen.

Yandere! Tarn Prompts 2, 30, 46

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love!"

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Marking/Injury, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship, Possessive behavior, Not much plot... mostly just a kidnapping scene/plot, Transformer fanon HCs as a plot point, Mentions of "Mate", Cybertronian/Cybertronian, Bleeding, Vague implication of stalking, Graphic scene (?).

"You'll tire eventually, that's fine, I can wait."

Tarn's calm and patient when pursuing what he wants. Patience is something he's had to learn in his line of work. That and loyalty.

Tarn knew eventually he'd have you in his claws. Honestly, he couldn't wait for it. He had been eying you for a long time as a potential partner for himself.

You're a neutral party... something that can easily be changed once he has you. Part of him originally wanted to take you in to convert you. Now it seems he has... ulterior motives.

Tarn has never considered a Conjunx Endura. He had loyally followed Megatron's teachings and that's where most of his life has gone. Then he saw you... Decepticon potential in his eyes.

That and Conjunx Endura potential.

Even as you run from him in a pitiful display, Tarn indulges in the chase. It's a little game to entertain himself before he claims you. He'll allow you to think you have a choice in the matter.

Oh, naive bot... you never had a choice the moment he picked you.

"You're making this harder than it has to be. Your spark is safe with me. All you need to do is surrender!"

At this point he's taunting you. Tarn is already plotting how to corner you. Each movement he does is calculated, predicting your every move.

Right... until... you're right where he wants you.

Tarn feels excitement swell within him when he finally manages to corner you. He sees you run into a dead end and realize you're trapped. You stare at him with many emotions swimming in your optics.

Tarn sees confusion... fear... and aggression. Fear is the strongest emotion that clouds your vision. Tarn can tell you have a vague sense of who he is.

Pride fills him while he steps closer.

"Game's over, my little Conjunx Endura. I do believe you've worked us both up enough."

Tarn's voice is teasing... while barely concealing a deep hunger within. You stare up at him with more confusion and disgust than fear for a moment. The looks you give him drive him crazy.

Oh... he picked well.

"Now... will you come with me willingly..." Tarn drawls, trapping you between him and the wall.

"Or will I have to get the D.J.D involved?"

Reluctantly, as he expected, you agree to come with him to his base of operations.

To him, that's already a good sign you'll be a behaved partner once he marks you.

---

Sounds of metal on metal echoed through the room. Pain coursed through you and it was all you could even think about. Even with the red eyes glaring down at you in possessive aggression... your mind only thought of the pain.

"I took you in for a reason..." The Decepticon hisses out. You hear your own metal creak as he digs his claws into you. You swore you felt Energon trickle down. "I chose you to be mine... my mate... I think I've waited long enough to mark you."

Tarn then pulls your chin to make you focus on him.

"Haven't I been nice and patient enough with you?"

You shudder against him, trying to break eye contact to see the damage. Tarn doesn't allow you to look and brings your eyes back to him. For a brief moment you see the look in his eyes soften.

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love." Tarn hums, sitting you up. You see him pull his claws out of the wound and catch a glimpse of vibrant pink liquid dribble down them. You feel ill and the pain throbs... you decide not to focus on his claws.

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you." Tarn praises you, eying the Energon on his hands. "A mark as deep as this will show every Decepticon I claim you."

"Am I going to die?" You heave.

"I'd never let you." Tarn replies, already preparing to call over Nickel to stop the bleeding. "You'll live... and have a pretty scar to remind everyone of what has happened."

Tarn then leans over you to brush his other hand across the side of your face. His eyes hold what appears to be adoration... but it's wrong. Anyone who really loved you wouldn't gouge a hole into your side so you spilled Energon on the ground.

"After this you're no longer a neutral party... you're a Decepticon." Tarn continues, gaze never leaving you. "I've claimed you, I've marked you, and I plan to brand you when you heal."

Tarn's tone sounds confident and pleased. You narrow your eyes at him and try to push him away. He doesn't budge.

"You're a monster... get away from me...." You hiss. Tarn makes a displeased scoff before leaning away from you. You'd take time to convert.

He'll just have to find more patience it seems....

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?" Tarn muses. "Eventually you'll understand."

Tarn presses his mask to your forehead and you flinch back. It was meant to be a comforting kiss. To you... it's anything but.

"Nickel will nurse you back to health." Tarn tells you, picking you up to transport you. His grasp his tight... Energon still dripping from his claws. As he walks with you, his gaze meets yours again.

"Until you're well rested... I'll be waiting, Conjunx Endura."

[whatwooshkai]

Hello! Not sure if I'm doing this right, but if you've not had the chance to share something for #4 for the smoke & mirrors AU, I'd love to read it!

"Ta-da!"

Graham steps back and waves his hands jazzily, revealing the baking soda volcano.

Boulder claps, grinning with delight. "Amazing," they say, leaning in to get a closer look. "And it's completely harmless to humans?"

"Completely," Graham assures them, smiling fondly as Boulder continues to investigate the volcano.

It's almost cute, how easy they are to impress. And Graham would be lying if he said he wasn't having a good time. Recreating old science experiments from his basic-level classes has been incredibly fun, and Boulder's enthusiasm for learning is absolutely infectious.

It reminds Graham of a time where his dream was to become a science teacher, and while things didn't work out that way upon discovering new passions, it's fun to pretend a little with Boulder.

Plus, all the rescue bots act like little kids sometimes. It's practically like teaching a class of regular kids when they're all present for these little demonstrations.

"-life size?"

"Huh?" Graham zones back in, meeting Boulder's gaze. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I was wondering if we could do a life-size volcano," Boulder patiently repeats, lightly tapping the side of the baking soda one. "With real lava."

"Boulder, we cannot set off a volcano," Graham says, trying to keep his tone light while also getting across how unbelievably awful of an idea that is. "Lots of people could get hurt! I can show you some documentaries on lava studies, though."

Boulder shakes their head. "No... maybe a small one then?"

"Huh?"

"A volcano with lava. But just this size." Boulder taps the baking soda volcano again, a little bit of "lava" gurgling over the edge. "It's not that hard to find, is it?"

Despite his better judgement, an idea is starting to form in Graham's head. "Yes," he says slowly, "we could probably pull that off."

Boulder's face lights up, and Graham is still questioning his life decisions as they rumble up the mountain to Doc Greene's lab.

"Hello!" Doc Greene shouts upon seeing them. "And how can I help you two today?"

"Well, I made Boulder a model baking soda volcano," Graham starts, waiting for the bot in question to finish their transformation sequence before continuing. "And they proposed the idea that we make a real volcano. Only model sized."

Doc Greene absolutely lights up, and Graham is sensing he's made a mistake.

"Oh, perfect!" Doc Greene claps his hands together. "I've been looking for an excuse to use my superheated oven again! Let's make some lava, my friends!"

Someone has to be the responsible one in this situation, and Graham is not it. The second the rocks in the oven turned from gray to orange he turned back into a kid again, giddy excitement bubbling up as he rushes to Boulder, scrambling up their back to lean over their shoulder as Doc Greene pours the lava into their little model.

"Move back!" Doc Greene commands. "We have about ten seconds before eruption!"

Boulder doesn't hesitate, grabbing Doc Greene by the scruff of his jacket and pulling Graham in front of them, creating a protective shield with just enough of a gap in their arms for the two humans to peek through.

And three! Two! One!

Lava sprays out over the top of the model, Boulder wincing as a few drops hit them, but Graham barely notices.

He’s only seen volcanic eruptions in movies and documentaries, but this. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Their model erupts like firecrackers, each drop like a shooting star carrying every wish Graham has ever had as a scientist. An orange glow bathes all their faces, and it’s gone as soon as it came, bright to gray, not with a bang, but a soft sizzle.

Not for the first time, Graham wonders how he ever stepped out of his comfort zone without Boulder around.

[lovekabaneri]

Snippets from Earth ch2

The second chapter of my fic set in @keferon Mech Pilot Jazz AU. Introducing how Swerve wound up on Earth in the AU, or at least how I imagined it. Here's and AO3 link:

*BOOOM!*

“----- those blasted Con----” – a gruff voice shouted.

There were explosions, a trine of seekers flew overhead and he just had enough time to roll to the side before the street exploded in a fiery inferno.

“It’s those blasted----!” – another voice cursed.

He had to move, it was not safe there and he could hear the roar of engines still, his audials ringing.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The city was destroyed, only ruins laid behind them as they drove off, the Cons surely would be following after their tracks. Swerve could feel the cracked street below his ties as he and the others sped up.

They lost, they had no other option but to retreat. If things continued like this, then Cybertron would-

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

They were running out of time! Soon Iacon would also fall, the planet was dying, the Autobots were forced to retreat. Everyone was hurrying to load up as much as they could into the Ark before the ship left the planet.

“Swerve---- You seen ---- anywhere?” – Prowl asked.

“Sorry. I have been loading crates the past few cycles. Haven’t seen him anywhere.” – Swerve said, shaking his helm.

Prowl just nodded and walked away.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“----old on! We’re getting to the-----” – someone was pulling him back to the shuttle.

They were ambushed. The Quints had opened their portal above their helms just as they were down to pick up some supplies and materials from the planet and then the warship started sending out drones and more of those ugly tentacled fraggers out!

The team scrambled back to their shuttle to regroup with the others and return to the Ark when the drones started shooting at them. After that… Swerve’s memory files were corrupted.

He remembers being dragged by some bot, his audials ringing with the explosion that knocked him out and there was an excruciating pain on his left side. He remembers the shuttle’s doors closing, then turbulence as they flew off and then…

He though he heard one of the medics and Optimus assuring him that he’s be fine but after that… darkness. He thought that he was going to join the others in the Well…

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

…Until light shined in his optics. He woke up, he was alive. Everything was blurry and he felt awful, he was also somewhere, buried and the light streamed down from a tiny hole above his head. He was trapped, pinned under the weight of the rubble and couldn’t move.

‘What happened? Where am I? Where are the others?!’ – he wondered but his helm ached.

“Uugh…” – he groaned as he tried to move.

“Hey-----Herd so---- there!” – an unfamiliar voice sounded from above.

He probably should be calling for help but his vision was blurry and spots danced at the edges of his visual field.

“Woof! Woof-arf!” – something was standing above and making unintelligible throaty sounds.

It reminded Swerve of the sounds he sometimes heard on organic planets, but then why would there be an organic there? Wasn’t he supposed to be on the Ark? He could barely sense a lot of lifeforms milling above, his sensors fed his muddled processor information he couldn’t even begin to process.

…Wait? Why was he here?

“---ound someone? Good job Brody! Good job boy!” – a feminine voice sounded.

“Woowoo!” – the animal made a joyful noise.

“We found----still trapped under the rubble! Might be a survivor!” – the same voice called again.

“We---- bring the lift and stretcher!” a deeper, male voice sounded “Must be buried deep to not have----" – he continued.

Swerve was panicking a bit but was also feeling sick and confused, his processor still not working right. He could hear the voices above but couldn’t understand what they were talking about. Did the Ark crash? Was it attacked while he was out of commission? Was he and the others somehow trapped on an unfamiliar organic-inhabited planet? He heard speech, so they must be of the intelligent races, right?

“---here! Be careful!” – the man commanded.

“Do you think--- alive? It’s been 2 days---” – a younger voice asked.

“Don’t know--- have to try!” – the man said with a solemn tone.

Soon, Swerve could hear the rocks and metal above his helm move. The beings above were talking and he could occasionally hear the animal barking and scrambling around. At some point he blacked out once more but was woken up by the feeling of pebbles falling down on him. He blearily looked up, just to see the grey stone above move and a beam of light to hit him straight in the faceplate. He hissed through his intake and shut his optics tight.

“There actually is------! They are alive, bring the stretcher!”- the male organic was not looking through the hole.

His face was only partly visible, a colored pair of safety goggles and a yellow helmet covered the top of his head as he peered down at Swerve with a grin.

“Don’t worry we’ll------Everything will be----” – he was talking to Swerve.

The Autobot couldn’t understand a word of what the organic said and he tried to convey that to him, he tried to sue some of the more common dialects used in the cosmos but his processor was still on the fritz and everything was starting to blur and spin once more.

“Uhn…ashjz ka?” – he managed to mumble, completely incoherent.

“We must hurry and pull----- have a concussion-----hospital! Call an am----!” – the man shouted with urgency.

The rocks were now removed with even more haste and the hole became wider. Swerve could see the outlines of other organics circling the hole, all dressed like the leader.

‘Must be from the same team or profession…’ – he thought.

The man took a rope in one hand and lowered himself down to Swerve, careful not to step on anything and inspected the downed Autobot. The organic then shouted something to the others above and started unspooling a bright green rope from his waist. The rope looked flimsy and made from some thread.

‘It is too thin and fragile. It won’t be able to hold me… need steel cable…’ – Swerve wanted to say.

“Ugh… samekh…sss! Aich!” – but instead mumbled something once more and hissed in pain as the organic touched him.

He was in a lot of pain and that scared him even more, his injury must have reached his inner frame! He wanted the organic to not move him, but he couldn’t think clearly nor to form coherent sentence in his voice box. Swerve felt the organic wind the rope around him and tie it. Then, he was hooked onto the same rope the man used to get down to him. Swerve moved weakly as the organics started to lift him but the knots were quite secure.

Soon, somehow, he was lifted out of the hole and the rope held! The organics stretched their limbs as he came closer, their digits pulling the rope and flexing in his direction. One stretched toward his chassis and he moved his left servo to push it away weakly, but instead the organic caught his servo and held it.

His optics widened impossibly wide, his servo… was not a servo. It looked small and very similar to the one of the organics. His gaze moved up with panic, his optics locking with the gaze of the femme holding his helm up. He was venting too fast and all he could do was make a panicked whine before his processor powered down and everything went dark.

……………………………………

Swerve had woken up a few planetary rotations, or days as the locals called it, ago. He was in some… medical bay? Emergency shelter-like place? He was still unsure, he was barely starting to have basic grasp of the local language, plus he couldn’t seem to connect to a network and download the information to his processor- brain- whatever, while in this unfamiliar frame-body-form? And that was without mentioning that he had been somehow injured and the locals would not let him out of his little curtained-off space, so the only information he could get was from the medics, the nearby patients talking and whatever he could see from the tiny window on the wall beside his berth- bed, it was called bed here.

He looked down at the blanket covering his lower half and ran his digits over the smooth material. He was so confused and lost at the moment and really didn’t know that to do. He was in an unfamiliar place in an even more unfamiliar body. Swerve was hurt, he was weakened, he had never felt so vulnerable before, not since the cycle he had been sparked and that… concerned him.

“Good day------. How are you today? Any discomfort or----?” – a nurse approached Swerve.

She was in the usual white and red color scheme medics used back home on Cybertron, so he had quickly guessed her purpose the first time she came. She visited him several times each day to check on him and inquire about his condition.

“No.” – he managed to say, the word he learned was denial.

“Good, then! You are way more responsive to----- than previous days! This is a good----. When you first came, you looked completely cat------ and we thought there could have been some brain damage on top of the concussion.” – she smiled and wrote something down.

Swerve could only nod dumbly, not fully getting the meaning of some words yet, but he certainly felt better now that he could understand some of the conversation and communicate with the organics. He felt so dumb when he only stared and blinked as a pair of important-looking men, which he suspected were this planet’s equivalent of enforcers, came, questioned and then shouted at him when he couldn’t answer. The doctors had chased them off but he suspected they might come back, since with his current knowledge, he now knew they were questioning him about his identity.

“I brought some---- and ----- today.” the nurse said, drawing Swerve’s attention “It is---- but pretty good, considering what happened last week.” – she smiled and brought him a tray of organic fuel- food.

He took it from her servos- hands, he reminded himself and she just stood there and watched him. Apparently, he had greatly worried them when he would not consume any of the food, so now they were watching him refuel-eat. So, even though Swerve did not yet feel the rumbling of an empty tank, he made himself eat slowly, the nurse happy to see him make progress. By the time she felt satisfied and left him on his own, he had finished half the portion.

‘What am I going to do now? I have to go and find what happened with the others on the Ark, I am worried about them but… Will I be able to return back? Will I even be able to contact them from wherever this place is? Not to mention this new form…’ – he flexed his fingers and stared as the fleshy exterior moved.

…………………………………..

A month after waking up on this planet, Earth, he was finally released from the hospital. He was led out by a ‘social worker’ with a nametag H. Bright pinned on his jacket. He only had the clothes on his back, a small folder of documents and his new ID with him as they exited the hospital. The city was still a bit of a mess but repairs were already underway. An enforcer- police officer, he reminded himself, was waiting for them outside.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Doe. There have been many server failures due to the alien attacks and a lot of data was lost, so it is not that odd that you are not in the system. I am sure this whole mess will be sorted soon enough!” – Mr. Bright said with a reassuring smile.

Swerve only nodded awkwardly and climbed into the police car.

“We’re going to drive you to the shelter and get you settled in. You have your temporary ID, right?” – the officer asked.

“Yes.” – Swerve answered and opened the document folder.

Inside was a small pile of documents and on top of it sat a small plastic card with a picture of Swerve’s current form – a caucasian man in his mid-twenties, short and slightly szocky build, green eyes and reddish-brown hair, there was a bit of stubble on his chin and he was staring at the camera with a thousand-yard stare. The name John Doe was printed beside the picture along with his ID number. Swerve looked down at the card with distaste and a lot of discomfort.

He remembered the day clearly, the detectives had returned, just as he suspected, once they were informed, he was healing and more coherent. They had questioned him for what seemed to be a few breems, but it was actually just a few hours, about who he was, what he was doing there and what his purpose was and also, apparently has a psychic evaluation made about him.

Swerve read through the documents in front of him as the car drove through the damaged streets.

‘Patient seems to be suffering from a complete retrograde amnesia due to severe head trauma, which resulted into a 3-day coma upon arrival at the hospital. Patient showed irregular breathing patterns in the beginning, before his readings were stabilized a few hours later. After waking up, the patient was near catatonic, staring into empty space or at personal and other patients and not responding to any attempts at communication. Later, patient slowly recovered and regained normal functions.

The amnesia and delusions of the patient might also be the result of the time the patient spent injured and trapped under the rubble. The patient mentioned being a giant robot a few times, maybe as a coping mechanism to the trauma and memory loss…’ – Swerve stopped reading and closed the folder.

He was not delusional! He clearly remembered his life back on Cybertron, his friends, his comrades, the war – he remembered every single cycle from his sparking up to waking up on this organic planet! And yet…

‘I had to pretend and accept the amnesia claims to not be written off as crazy or worse…’ – the currently human Autobot grimaced.

In the week prior to his discharge, he had learned a lot about this planet’s current situation. The Quintessons were actively attacking the natives and before said attacks, the humans were not even aware of intelligent alien life even existing! He didn’t know whether to laugh of vent out in frustration. This planet was so out of reach and behind the other civilizations  that they not only had not started space-faring properly but many thought the only life out there in the near-infinite cosmos was on their planet and the rest was just…microbes! Fragging microbes!

Swerve noticed the police officer glancing back at him and forced his expression into a calm one.

‘I really am stuck here on my own…’

Not only did he not have a way to contact the Autobots but aliens were viewed with a ton of negativity due to the Quints attacking and being the only alien life, this planet has seen. He didn’t want to imagine what might happen if he tried to make a communicator and he was found trying to contact someone in space. So, he had to hold it all in and bear with it until he found a solution to his predicament.

‘Still, why John Doe?! Why couldn’t they accept that my name was Swerve?’

===1 year later ===

Swerve was in the factory’s cafeteria. He was wearing a gray shirt, his blue work uniform, a protective apron with a few oil stains and yellow protective goggles. He had found this job soon after arriving at the shelter with no official ID and no family to be found. He worked hard to get a small place in the old apartments of the city and earn a living. After all, just like credits on Cubertron, dollars were necessary to live comfortably in the USA. He was lucky that he was so good with technology and this place had been in desperate need of engineers for the new anti-alien machines they were making, desperate enough to hire a man with no official identity as long as he was good and Swerve was DAMN good with his hands. He quickly became one of the best engineers in the whole facility.

“Hey, Swerve! How’s it going?” – the cook greeted him.

“Good, Phil. We had a bit of trouble with one of the new engines but I managed to fix it up very quickly.” Swerve smiled “Can you give me-“

“The day’s special with a side of fries, garlic sauce and a coke?” – Phil smiled, already putting the food on the tray.

“Heh, you know me very well, Phil.”

“How can’t I? You order has been almost always the same for this entire year you’ve been working here! It’s not that hard to guess.” – the cook winked.

“Yeah… I guess. Hahaha.” – he laughed awkwardly before moving on.

Swerve sat on an empty table and began eating the food, having actually began to like the taste a while ago, trying out the different dishes, despite not exactly feeling the ‘hunger pangs’ even if he didn’t eat for a few days, but he got addicted to fries dipped in garlic sauce as a result of his experiments, so now he always ordered a portion.

“Swerve! Hopkins just called! He says a few ‘big shots’ have come asking about you!” – Eliza, one of the secretaries approached his table.

“Hm? Wha-“ he had to quickly swallow his fries “What big shots? What happened? Is it an issue with an order again?”

“I don’t know. He just said he wants you in his office in the next 10 minutes.” – Eliza sighed and looked apologetically at the engineer.

“Well, I better get going, then.” – he smiled and left his half-eaten lunch at the return counter.

‘I just hope there’s not another issue with a big order. My audials were ringing from all that quarreling.’ – Swerve grimaced.

………………………………………

Swerve entered Hopkins’ office, expecting to see a red-faced manager, instead he was greeted by two men in suits, all “Men in Black” style (yes, he watched the movie) and his boss acting overly-friendly to them. Swerve was so weirded out by how much the usually proud boss was acting like a bootlicker. Suddenly, all gazes were onto him.

“Y-you wanted to see me, Mr. Hopkins…” – Swerve stuttered.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Doe! Please sit down.” Hopkins gestured at the free chair “Mr. Doe is one of our best engineers here at M-“

“We are aware. That’s why MECH sent us here.” – one of the men cut the manager off with his deep voice.

“Y-yes! My apologies!” – Hopkins looked almost like he was about to fall over and that scared Swerve.

“Mr. Doe.” – one of the men addressed him.

“Yes!” – Swerve almost jumped up when the man stood up.

“We are representatives of MECH, the new organization that is developing mechs to fight the alien invaders.” – the man began.

Swerve knew very well who they were, after all their factory was one of many responsible for building machines and creating components for MECH.

“We were sent here to offer you a position at MECH’s main R&D branch.” – the man finished.

“Huh?!” – Swerve was shocked, were they serious?

“The director heard of your engineering prowess and experience, so he officially invited you on an interview and offers a position on the spot if you are to accept the deal.” – the second man said, also standing up.

Both Swerve and Hopkins were stunned into silence.

“Here’s the official invitation with details, a contact number, email and the available interview dates, if you are to accept. The contract would be negotiated after accepting the position. That would be all. Good day.” – the first man handed Swerve an envelope and the two men left.

……………………………………

Swerve ended up accepting the job after a lengthy interview and a look around the R&D publicly-accessible are. The technology there was probably the best on the planet, but they were also desperately in need of help. He did not want the planet overrun by the Quints while he was still trapped there and with no way to contact the Autobots, so this was his own way of helping with what he could. After all, if Optimus was here, he would have also fought to save Earth.

With his meager belongings loaded into the moving truck, Swerve climbed into the passenger seat and left for his new home. He looked back and took one last look at the half-destroyed Los Angeles before the moving truck left.

[yama-does-art]

Can I help you?

Lost Light x (gn)reader

Content: mtmte oc insert, Lost Light x (GN)Reader, [Fluff], discontinued

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4K

--- BUDDY ---

Puyo has been missing for an hour now and Buddy was getting worried. Zorabora was a small Zatu trade colony, it shouldn’t be this hard to find a glowing amorphic slimeball. Stall after stall, it seemed that none of the locals noticed the creature. While the slime was damn near unkillable, the pilot hoped that Puyo didn’t get captured. Exotic traders would pay an arm and a leg for a tamed mimic.

With the ships electrical systems fried, Buddy had no way of locating their dear companion. Worse still, none of the local technicians had the skill to reinstall the communication and navigational arrays to get it back online. They had to rely on a short range radio they jimmied up earlier.

Where could Puyo have gone? Was she hungry? Scared? This was so unlike her to wander off in an unknown area. The human felt a cool droplet. Damn, once the rain starts it will be hell to navigate the area. Their head whipped toward the bolt that streaked across the sky. One second. Two second. Three. The thunder shook the ground and a shrill scream cut through the street. That was her. The human took off into the street. Puyo was nearby.

--- SWERVE ---

Swerve had seen rain within Earth media countless times before. So much of their culture revolves around the precipitation of dihydrogen monoxide. It made sense. Without water, much of life on Earth would die. There was so much emotion portrayed in movies and shows when rain is involved. Couples breaking up in a rainstorm. A tragedy from a flood. The joy of children running through puddles. Yet, feeling the droplets against his holoform seemed, what’s the word? Underwhelming.

“You know, I always wondered how our holoforms would react to lightning.” Said Skids.

The bartender turned to the other, horrified. “Don’t jinx it. I think I remember something about circuit burns from Magnus’ projection safety pamphlets.”

“I’m more worried about this little one. He’s been shaking ever since the storm was in audial range.” Said Rung softly, petting the slime in his arms.

Skids nudged his face towards the creature, cooing, “Never seen a mimic this tame before. The wee thing likes ya.”

Swerve inched closure, “It is kind of cute. It’s like an Earth kitten. If the kitten was blue, and it lacked the legs, tail, fur, and a face.”`

“So nothing like a kitten at all,” chuckled Skids.

“Its eyes are yellow so close enough.” Huffed Swerve. “Say, if we don’t find the owner, think we can hide it from Ultra Magnus. We can keep it on my habsuite and take turns feeding it. That means we should give it a name. We should call it ‘Boba.’ Like the drink.”

“I like ‘Bubbles’ better,” the taller mech said.

The phycologist shook his head, “While I do not condone smuggling lifeforms onboard the ship. I do feel like it is our responsibility to ensure its well-being.”

Swerve nodded, “Exactly, that is why if we ta-“ the thunder crackled above. Then the creature let out a piercing cry. “What the Frag was that? What happened? Is it hurt?”

Rung struggled to grip the fluid creature as it wriggled in his arms. “I think that it’s frightened, the poor thing. Maybe we should go inside so it can calm down.”

“Ai. Probably for the best. Rains coming down hard. I don’t know about you, but soggy clothes aren’t that comfortable,” supplied skids.

Just then, a voice echoed across the still busy street, causing the bots to jump. The three turned. The sound was getting closer, until a small bipedal being could be seen barreling towards them.

Puuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyoooooo!

Swerve gasp. It was a human. A real human. They practically slid in front of them, panting. When they looked up, they were radiating pure joy. In the rain, they looked mesmerizing.

“You found her,” They  said.

Skids and Rung looked at them with awe when the mimic vaulted into their arms. The effect was instant. The creature was purring as the human held them closure, relief on their face.

“You must be the owner,” said Rung smiling. “I am glad we were able to find you. The strength of your bond with each other is quite evident.”

The organic looked up, at all of them. “You have no idea. She is like family and I can’t thank you enough.” They then pointed at the building across the way. A bar. “Let me buy you a drink, it’s the least I can do.”

Rung frowned slightly, “Well you see-”

But he was cut off by the human, “I insist. Come on before we all get drenched,” they said. Their laughter was loud and boisterous.

Swerve looked at his companion, his shake with excitement, despite the fact that he was in his projected form. “Can we? I mean they did invite us.”

“It would be rude not to,” said Rung slowly.

Skids motioned them to follow, “You heard him, let's go.”

The minibot thought to himself. The rush of emotions from the human appearing out of nowhere to the constant pressure sensors triggering against the downpour. It made him feel lightheaded. Maybe this is why so much of human media portrays historic moments in the rain.

--- RUNG ---

Somehow through a whirlwind of events, Rung ended up here, on a remote organic settlement, at a restaurant, soon to be seated next to a human. His companions looked just as excited as he felt. As the most outgoing of the group, Skids looked ecstatic. He was like a sparkling with the way his head swiveled at every sight and sound. Next to him, Swerve had a more anxious expression. No doubt in anticipation from finally meeting a member of the species that occupied his interest.

As for himself, it had been a long time since he had felt this giddy. When he first began his search for the mimics owner, it was more out of civic duty. The creature had obviously been domesticated and it pained him to find such small thing lost and forgotten. He did not expect the sheer force of love and affection the human had for the creature, it was beautiful. Then in an instant, all that love and gratitude was projected onto him when they thanked him, it made his spark swell. There was such intensity in their optics, it felt like for the first time in centuries, he had been SEEN. He simply had to learn more about this individual.

“This is actually happening,” Swerve. mumbled to himself.

Next to him, Skids hung an arm around the man, “Easy there. You’ll be fine. Don’t overthink it.”

The minibot shot a pained look back. “Don’t overthink it. Don’t tell me that. It's like telling my processor to do the exact opposite.”

“Then talk it out bud. It's just a conversation. You're good at those.”

Rung smiled. It was nice to see Skids ease Swerve’s nervousness. His assurances did help as the mech calmed down. Just in time, the human strolled to the table, fabric in one hand and a plate of food in another.

“Here are some towels to dry yourselves with.” They said, passing the white cloth fragments to the mechs, then placing the plate down with a smile, “So the Zatu call this dish a Zeebriska. It’s the closest thing to Nachos I have eaten in a long time, feel free to have some.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” replied Rung

“Though we really appreciate the gesture,” added Swerve. “After all we just re-I mean we just ate not too long ago.”

Wait, was that a smirk from the human? Rung could have sworn he saw their face looked amused, if only for a second. Then they shrugged, “More for me. I was serious earlier. If you see anything on the menu, it's my treat.”

“Thanks. You know, we never actually caught your name.” Said Skids.

The human laughed, “Right sorry, call me Buddy. And you said that you were Skids, Swerve and Rung. Did I get that correct?”

“Right on the money,” said Swerve. “So how did you end up out here?”

“I can ask you the same thing. I haven’t met another human in years.’m a courier. I deliver mail and other goods to remote settlements across the system.”

Swerve lit up, “You’re a regular adventurer then.”

Buddy smirked, “Something like that. Though I am stranded here for the moment. My ship's electrical systems got fried during a stellar storm in the Bybax System, with it, all navigational and communication equipment was lost. I haven’t been able to fix it since.”

Skids tilted his head, “Isn’t that two star systems away. How did you get here?”

“Hitched a ride with a Gren cargo freighter for three-quarters the way, then I piloted the rest.”

“No way you could have steered your ship on sight alone.” Skids gasp.

“Give me some credit. I had a calculator too.”

The other clapped, “You got skill, bud. I’ll give you that.”

Swerve shifted in his seat, “Yet you said you're still stranded?”

“It wasn’t exactly a soft landing.” they said. “I can handle structural repairs, it’s just I am clueless when it comes to anything software related. So I am grounded until I can find someone to fix the damage or I need to abandon the craft.”

The minibot nearly jumped, “Maybe you can come with us. We might have people that can help with that.”

“Swerve,” Rung warned. It's not that he didn’t want to help this individual, but it would be against ship policy to bring an alien race aboard. It was one thing, bringing a mimic. Those were non-organic, requiring little to no maintenance. This was a living, breathing sentient.

“Come on, Rung. Don’t you feel a little bad for them. We just need to convince Rodimus and Drift. Then Magnus will have to agree. You know we have room and the resources.”

“Look guys,” Buddy said, catching the bot's attention. “This is obviously a hot subject for you. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf. If you really want to help, send me to your superiors and let me try to try to hash out a deal.”

Skids scratched his head, “Well, it might be a little more complicated than that.”

Everything paused. In an instant, the three autobots conversed over their comm units.

:Swerve: We should tell them. ::

:Skids: Okay, so you do it. ::

:Swerve: What? Why me? ::

:Skids: You were the one to offer our help. Gotta follow through. ::

:Swerve: What if I spook them. I mean, Cybertronians are universally hated around here. ::

:Skids: You just don’t want them to hate you. ::

:Swerve: You. You’re the worst. ::

:Rung: That’s enough, I will tell them. However you will be the one to appeal to Ultra Magnus. ::

:Swerve: Fine. Just promise me that you’ll back me when UM asks what happened. ::

:Skids: Course. ::

:Rung: You have my support. Now we have kept our guest waiting long enough. ::

Rung checked his internal clock. Their conversation lasted less than a minute. The human was still consuming their meal. He cleared his throat, taking hold of his glasses. “Buddy, there is something important we have neglected to mention.”

A quick glance to his fellow crew members. Both leaning in for the big reveal. Swerve looked like he was about to go offline at any moment, while Skids barely could hide a grin. Back to the human, they hummed in response, brow raised.

Rung frowned, “The truth is that we are Cybertronians disguised as humans.”

Dead silent between the three of them. Rung tracked her expression in real time. From the furl of the brow, widening eyes, and swallowing in quick succession. What he did not expect was an abrupt laugh. “Noble. I knew you weren’t human but cybertronian? It's an honor.”

Skids laughed along with the human, “You’re pretty clever. I like that.”

Swerve was on his feet, “You knew!? When? How?”

They shrugged, “As soon as you introduced yourselves. You see, we humans have a knack for picking up differences in our own. For example, ” Buddy held out a hand to Swerve. “May I?”

Swerve’s EM field was surging. Rung looked around, fearing the other xenos might pick up such a strong signature. Evidently, none seemed to notice, or at the very least contributed to the storm outside. It did not help that Skids was nearly keeled over from his giggling. “Sure,” the minibot squeaked.

Buddy cupped two hands around his one. “Incredible. Such a tightly knit hard-light matrix. Sorry, off-topic. For example, your skin may feel the same as mine, but it doesn’t have any blemishes. Signs of natural wear and tear. We also have small hairs across our body and we produce oils and pheromones. While humans aren’t normally conscious of those facts, the absence of it can be disconcerting.” They let go, “Apologies if I made you uncomfortable.”

The minibot’s projection flickered, but he shook his head, “No. Not uncomfortable. Never been better.”

Rung did not realize he too was leaning in with their explanation. “Fascinating. And this is an ability that you share with the rest of your species?”

“It’s not really an ability as it is an aspect of our psychology. Anything that can be described as human-but-not-quite makes us incredibly uneasy. Hone in on those traits, and you have a better chance of determining friend from foe, or in this case,” Buddy winked, “deciding if these nice strangers are actually aliens.”

Rung coughed, ignoring the frazzled EM of Swerve, “Yet you don’t seem upset at all.”

“Not in the slightest. If anything, I am impressed. Humans are a good choice. Squishy, unassuming. Not to mention, practically pocket sized to the rest of the galaxy.”

“Pocket size?” Skids wheezed. “Did my translator short, or did you admit your entire race was tiny?”

Buddy threw their arms up, “Of course I did. It’s almost comical how nearly everyone I come across has to look down at me. I am willing to bet my ship that in your true form, I can fit in the palm of your hand. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You got me. Though, I can think of a few species that are larger than us.”

They chuckled. “Because that is a reassuring thought. On a serious note, is that why you don’t want me to speak with your captain?”

“It’s not so much as the captain, as it is his Second in Command,” explained Swerve. “You see, our SiC is stickler about rules. Some of those rules are very specific in how we handle contact with other aliens, especially organics.”

The human hummed in acknowledgment, “Well I’m game, what is the proper way to contact your ship?”

[lets-try-some-writing]

Question. How do you think the TFP bots each find the squishies that are humans look. Like aesthetically. Which ones find them cute or gross or funny looking? Cause in the Scraplet episode, Ratchet said “Typically I find your fleshiness your least engaging qualities.” Meaning that Ratchet find the humans gross to some extent, meaning that the Autobots does have aesthetic opinions about the humans. And it seems like everyone got different opinions. So what’s your head canon for each of their opinions?

Ooooooh now this is a question I will happily answer!

Ratchet: His views on humans and squishies in general is summed up to GROSS. He sees humans as essentially a bunch of organs in a poorly made plastic bag walking around on stilts. They are worse than hairless cats in his optics. They may be nice enough, but he would prefer to poke them with sticks or handle them with a hazmat suit if given a choice. He's warmed up to them, but will never find them particularly appealing. Interesting? Yes. Appealing? Primus no.

Bumblebee: Bumblebee thinks humans are a little unsettling, but he appreciates them in the way one would a pet tarantula. He can find something to see as appealing in them, although as a general rule he is not particularly enthralled with them. He is fond of human eyes, largely because their pupils dilate a great deal like how his optics cycle. He also finds it fascinating how many colors humans can have their eyes up being.

Arcee: She sits in the same boat as Ratchet for the most part. However she has one aspect of humanity that she is surprisingly fond of. She thinks human hair is quite "cute" in a sense. It reminds her somewhat of stories of Solus and she has always found it fun how humans can style their hair in so many unique ways. She has even gone so far as to ask June to teach her how to braid hair simply because Arcee also finds the texture of hair to be facinating.

Bulkhead: His thoughts on humanity can be summed up simply with: Smol Beans. He thinks they are adorable in the way one would look at a mouse and think it cute. Sure humans can do gross things like execrate and create strange internal liquids and sounds, but they are just so small. He can't help but find that fact appealing.

Wheeljack: He is neither grossed out or really invested in humans. He could care less what they look like. He's been everywhere and seen everything, so very little bothers him anymore when meeting new races. He does think that human teeth are interesting though. Cybertronians have their own version of the mouth bones, but humans growing the mouth bones and then having a few sets of them is something he just thinks is rather inspiring.

Smokescreen: He... doesn't like humans. He's in Ratchet's boat, but he's a lot less tactful in his outward reactions. His first few weeks on Earth involved a lot of gagging at humans as a whole. Squishies are not his cup of tea, but he's learned to handle it for the most part. So long as the squishes are clothed reasonably, he can pretend they are armored and ignore the fact that they are walking bags of bits and bone.

Optimus: He doesn't mind humanity. He doesn't think they are physically appealing in any real regard, but he admires their minds. Such small creatures holding hope and intellect on par with the more technological races is something he finds impressive. He also holds an appreciation for their voices simply because they are clear and without complication. It is new, and for that reason he finds it beautiful in a sense.

Ultra Magnus: He doesn't like humans. Period. He tolerates them for the sake of the team and negotiations, and he may be appreciative of human comrades and friends. But the species as a whole? He is not fond of them. He is largely more confused than anything else. He has no idea how such a fleshy and delicate species lasted so long. But he has largely shrugged it off and moved on with life.

[hoiststowline]

winter of our youth

first_prev step eight

The worn leather protested as you shifted within the chair, vying to shake free some of the sleepiness that had overcome sore joints from sitting for a prolonged period. Occasionally, a conflicted gaze would bounce to the phone resting atop the desk, racking an unnerved mind for a good reason to send a slew of texts, confirming your suspicions to be wary of such a rash decision. There would be no convincing enough grounds to message him at such an hour; he'd see through your front without much afterthought, knowing you were scared and insist on coming to spend the night outside.

With an exhausted sigh, a verdict is reached that the last thing that would occur tonight is having any contact with Magnus unless an absolute emergency. The computer screen illuminated, bathing the dark interior in a soft light, silently reminding you of the hour. Blurry words melted into incoherent sentences, forcing you to squint along the lines, recalling dizzy news articles about unknown things that lurked in the woods as well as a slew of unconfirmed sightings of machinery that moved incomprehensibly fast along dimmed horizons. Wisconsin made sense in some aspects, largely because almost half of its acres were populated by forestation, a brilliant cover for impossible-to-explain mechs, the dense trees doing well enough for Magnus the entire time he held out. 

But it didn't make damning gumption to you, finding in countless hours of entrant research that most sightings of the unexplainable occurred out west. This was all conspiracy, basing your hypothesis on shaky studies, but you were also living the collusion yourself. Some credit was due there, as your apprehension was still extremely high and wobbly, no answers coming from the aloof bot himself, the self-proclaimed. 

There was no good reason to deny that he hadn't correctly heard what was said, entirely certain that whoever was on the other line spoke his name and knew that he was trying to reach him. Company aside, it was rather strange that the signal died that swiftly, almost as if they didn't want to reconnect or divulge too much information. "I hate to deploy such a responsibility upon you, but I am alone. Without that device, I cannot contact my allies, meaning I cannot assist them. Your species may be in danger,” He had said, perhaps supposed to be an olive branch, though you had seen it entirely differently, almost fearful to assist in something that could likely get you killed. 

Yet that was over a week ago at this moment, seeing him nearly daily as a natural rapport began to build between the two of you. There were no satisfactory or calming grounds to trust Magnus other than the fact that he told you to do so, fiercely being your protector as he somehow wormed his way into your life. He had not steered you wrong thus far, though as tensions run high, you find yourself dragged further underwater into that ocean of dubiety you swore to stay afloat in. 

Now, you felt as if there was no choice to be made, a clear message that whatever was chasing that night was now stalking the both of you, a frightening concept. If Magnus left without you, there would be no one here to help, no one to call that would even lend an ear to entertain your disordered nonsense. You could hope that he would take whatever it was with him, dumbly pensive that it was he it was after and not you.

That was almost laughable wishful thinking, leaning back into the chair as you move the cursor across the screen, clicking another unreliable website. They were almost overfamiliar in a weird sense; links turned purple as you'd visited them before, a few days back when the idea of Ultra Magnus existing was almost incomprehensible. Having scoured the internet previously, and it containing mostly tangled versions of a half-truth, it could be plausible that the stories from the western United States were just that, fiction. 

There had to be entirely too much that you would never understand, that was obvious, even within first interactions. A terrified heart longed to be part of a commodity and begged to belong, but a rational mind swept all notions of compliance straight out the window alongside the memories of a teary-eyed teenager. 

A light that doesn't belong to the computer seeps under the curtains, bright red as it stretches across the carpet. A gasp leaves you, jumping up from your perch to grab the phone until it passes in the snap of a finger. Your stomach sinks, nausea seeping effortlessly as the notion arrives that the stalker was just outside, playing keep away with your once stable, now wavering sense of security. Slowly parting the curtain with caution, you find red taillights in the distance, nearly out of sight as a breathy sigh escapes you. Wisconsin it is, you suppose. 

"I take it you did not rest well," The morning approached faster than you cared to analyze, opting to blow off sleep as you stuffed necessities into a duffle bag instead. After receiving a message early in the dawn that he would be back to pick you up around eleven, deciding for the both of you to take off an hour earlier than anticipated, you assumed it would be best to just sleep when you could no longer fight it. 

His mirrors move erratically to follow your form as you haul yourself into the cabin once more, faint marbled purple alighting under your eyes as you place your bag in the backseat. "Yeah. Something like that." 

If anyone were to observe Ultra Magnus in a circumstance like this, in such a nurturing and softhearted light, they'd think he'd damaged his helm. To you, he was still standoffish and blunt at times, displaying kindness in a vague enough way that you could not call it such without much thought. At your still withdrawn attitude, he roves to find the root of your troubles. "I am sorry to hear that."

Magnus had hoped overnight some of your hesitation would have subsided. Though try as you may bury it, he's taken notice that you often keep your emotions close yet unguarded enough that the trained eye could decipher them. In that, he was giving up his position to say he could read you so easily, as he cannot, though it was still very clear that something was wrong. 

You're headed straight for the passenger seat, as it is rightfully yours, but after some thought, Magnus had formulated a plan he assumed you'd agree to, but that was too much of an ambitious presupposition. It would make sense in shorter trips back and forth to your home for you to sit there, but in a longer stretch such as this one, it would be more plausible to have a driver behind the wheel. 

His holoform was an option, but he'd rather not waste so much energon to keep it active most of the journey, opting to save it for emergencies and them only. "I have a suggestion if you would be open to it," 

You pause mid-action, turning slightly. "Sure. What's up?"

He displays his concern, observing you for any signs of uneasiness or stalling. To his well-kept but present surprise, you agree, actually commending him for such a good idea. "My goal is to make this endeavor uncomplicated," Magnus counters, voice keeping its typical air of firmness but faltering slightly with a familiar gentleness. "I've said it previously, but I feel as if I owe it to you once more. I understand I am asking much of you, y/n. So, anything that I can do to alleviate your doubts do not hesitate to ask." 

"I've done some thinking." The driver's seat was set farther away from the dash than the passengers had been, as if he'd positioned it to his holoforms height and, the opposite side, yours. "And I've concluded after what we've seen I need you much more than you need me. So, if anything, let me apologize for my distant behavior." As you take a deep breath, he waits patiently for you to continue. "I'm sorry."

"That is not true, nor do you need to apologize." His engine turns over just after he clicks your seatbelt in place, trying to ignore your barely there presence on the opposite side of the cabin. "This has been a tumultuous and trying time. Let bygones be bygones." 

He still perceives your lingering general unhappiness but moves with stride as you seem to shake off such feelings for the time being. "I think we’ve kissed and made up a few too many times,” You joke, all seriousness leaving you to ensure the jest didn’t fly over his head this time, but you were too bold to surmise such a thing. 

“Pardon?” Magnus choked, dismayed by your figure of speech.

“Sorry, that was a bad idiom.” Hurriedly said, to not instill more unnecessary confusion, though some laughter trickled through. "I’m game to cast all previous misgivings aside."

He still regards you with a thrum of disbelief and mostly disapproval, the engine idling before turning over. “Very well. Do you have everything you’ll require?”

"For the most part," You cast a look over your shoulder to the duffle bag, running quickly through a mental checklist before continuing. "Schedule pending, I may have to pick some things up along the way." 

This was the part where everything suddenly began to feel real, realizing that you'd just signed your life away even with careful thought. It felt strange to stare at it from this point of view, looking out his windshield and down your street, expertly leaving your home diligently behind you. If anything were to be gained in this endeavor, you'd felt owed an explanation, a legitimate one nonetheless, and set to inquire such somewhere along the journey. 

"Good," He rumbles. "I commend you for preparing ahead." 

Only twenty minutes had passed before you felt a need to mention to him the particulars you had uncovered the night before, only opening your mouth when he had exited your town. "Hey, Mags?" 

"Yes?" He replies simply, the screen blinking. 

"I'm not questioning you, I just...do you really believe your team is in Wisconsin?" For some reason, hearing it this time would disregard all of your previous suspicions. 

After a short beat of silence, he doesn't get angry as you suspect he might. Instead, he gives a hum of thought as if surveying his words attentively. "I have no reason to believe they are not within the borders of Wisconsin." 

You shrug, a small smile forming as you eventually relax into the leather seat. "Good enough for me." 

After directions from you to get onto the major highways, there was little to discuss, the quietness was not necessarily a bother to Magnus himself, but your hushed demeanor was nothing short of unusual. You could not be on your phone, pretending to be the operator, so the most you could do was look out the window, almost entranced by the asphalt and damn all more.

"Am I right to suggest our unknown enemy kept you up?" He asks after the conversation lulls, splintering the peaceful silence that had overcome the cabin. Magnus hadn't wished to break it, but something nagged within his processor to check up on you, just to ensure you were alright, knowing that a facade is so easily constructed. 

Warily, you shake your head no. "I was just...reflecting, I guess."

"Would you like to share what about?" Magnus asks, treading meticulously. "If you are comfortable doing so," 

You toy with the idea of publishing your woes, vying to find a reason to turn down his offer, yet come up empty. "Back when we first met, you'd said something about my species being in danger." A pause, struggling to carry onward. "Is that something that is still 'need to know'?" 

With the trek having just begun, Magnus was not expecting that much of a negative turn so early on but was willing to answer your questions as they came, having extended the idea. "No, no, it is not. It is difficult to explain; I may have to start from the very beginning."  

To his utmost surprise, you lean just a little bit more forward in your seat, a victorious smile toying on your lips as if eager to listen to his droning. "Well, we do have hours of open road ahead of us," 

"That we do," He agrees, relenting. "Yet, I am...unsure if I feel right imparting such death and violence upon you, y/n. I have tried restlessly to keep you separated from such, and I feel as if you are intertwined so far into this I have caused irreparable damage," 

He isn't as stern about it as you'd suspected, more so deflecting in a truth that you could know, but he was protecting you from the substances below the surface. Ultra Magnus was arguably a safeguard, and it wouldn't be the first time it'd crossed your mind that he often puts others above himself, a glaring aspect of his often-blanketed personality. Perhaps it wasn't the best to pry, he'd certainly explain it to you when the right time materialized, though you had hoped to at least be a step ahead whenever the both of you arrived at those coordinates. 

"You don't have to start at the top," You compromise, finally meeting his expectant gaze in the rearview mirror. "I understand there's a need for you to get to Wisconsin, and you are adamant about meeting up with your team there. How does Earth factor into all of that?" 

"Do you recall early on in our first encounter when I mentioned you would be assisting the 'good guys'?" Mildly stupefied that he even entertained your horrible rewording, you nod twice to let him recommence. "Then, I suppose, for lack of a better term, the enemy, the Decepticons, are on your planet searching for something. A team had been deployed here to find them and protect Earth's inhabitants, but they have sparsely been heard from since arriving. When I received word of such, or lack thereof, I took it upon myself to find them." 

"Oh." Mouth suddenly dry, and you fumble to find the right set of words to pick up after that bomb of new information. "You ended up here and hoped to contact them...but your device was broken..." 

"I assumed that the signal would be stronger on-planet." Magnus enters the ramp for the interstate, a soft sigh escaping him. "I did not take into account that the device would break upon my unsatisfactory landing." 

He cannot stand the beats of silence that steadily increase after each sentence, watching as you slowly begin slotting puzzle pieces together. "...How long have you been here?"

"Approximately two Earth years, one hundred and forty-eight days, eleven hours, and seventeen minutes." He rattles off, your jaw inching closer to the floor at each declaration of time. 

That much solitude would leave anybody on tenterhooks, trying to imagine what it would be like to live every waking moment alone on a foreign planet with nobody to talk to. That downright breaks your heart, feeling it thrum forlornly within your chest as a burning sensation overtakes your eyes, foolishly wondering where the sting of tears came from. 

"That is not a significant amount of time." Now he's consoling you, becoming increasingly more demanding to keep the tears at bay. "We do not experience the passing of time on the same scale, y/n, there is not a need to-"

"But you said-" Recognizing you were becoming excitable, you desist from such behavior to take a deep breath until you'd gathered rampant thoughts. "The whole recharging thing, I thought it couldn't have been that long," 

"I was executing the bare minimum concerning recharge, enough to keep me going rotation to rotation." It's sympathetic as if he was talking to a child. "I could not leave myself unguarded for a prolonged period. Especially with what we know now, it could have been too detrimental to the mission." 

Speechless, all you can do is run your knuckle under your cheeks, swiping away the water that had collected there as an impudent sense of loneliness creeps into your mind and begins to camp out there. An unexplainable feeling of such strong guilt appears for someone you had resented initially, yet there was no one to blame for your heightened emotions other than yourself. With what you've come to learn, you now understand his situation and are aware that he needs to see this through to the end to satisfy a two-year-long itch to reunite with those he's searched for that entire time. 

"y/n-" He starts, but the sentence dies and goes nowhere, faltering in his confidence to rectify the problem.  

"Can you please tell me about your friends?" It's warbled, uprooted from trembling lips, and with hazy acknowledgment, you find your fingers had curled around the bottom of the steering wheel. 

Ultra Magnus doesn't have the spark to tell you most bots hardly see him in a congenial light, known for his stoic and unwelcoming presence as a soldier and unforgiving attitude as a commander. Most could begrudgingly say that they respected him, but few could call him a confidant, only a handful could he call a friend. Once this was all over, maybe things would change, but he didn't have the assurance that his impassive behavior and tendencies would ever leave him, in an unimaginable future, something he didn't have the luxury to conjure. 

When you had been so forthcoming about reliance and kindness, it was unfamiliar yet welcomed, knowing varying degrees of the word, but this was a much more guiltless and innocent version. It never bothered him, per se; he had no one to impress other than securing Autobot victories in a tenacious war, but finding such company, he was unwilling to let it go just yet. 

"I wouldn't..." Not much can leave him speechless, but you've somehow left him stumped as of late. "You are upset. Perhaps this is not the right time to carry on this conversation." 

As your touch recedes from the wheel, he immediately misses such a benign and harmless influence. Your means of displaying camaraderie were vastly different than how Cybertronians showed such endearment, firstly finding relief in your hesitation to apply the slightest amount of pressure to his interior, even if you almost weighed negligible to him. Ultra Magnus was the furthest from an affectionate and amicable bot, but your gestures proved that he was not immune to longing for such softhearted deeds. 

He surveys your form as you sink further into the seat, going to curl in on yourself before realizing you are supposed to act as the driver, hands falling unceremoniously into your lap. There is something that longs to be said, he can tell it just by the way your lips purse, shifting uncomfortably twice before surrendering with vast diffidence. 

"Okay," Hushed, making no effort to cover your disappointment. "Maybe later," 

Speaking of, there remains a lot of information he has yet to learn about you. He knows things in a broad gamut, but there was very little that he felt he could describe if someone were to inquire of you. That said, if he could do anything to satiate your despair now, getting to coax unknown verity from your jumbled mind would only discover a newfound yearning. It was almost astounding that you wanted to touch deeper into his psyche, to uncover well-kept secrets and sentiments that he'd stifled there millions of years ago. 

"And what of you, y/n?" At his tone, you pull a glassy-eyed gaze back up to the mirror.

"What about me?" A whisper, after barely hearing his question.

"I would like to learn more about you if you would allow it." He is becoming an expert at keeping your distress at bay, even circling back to it at a later date to ensure you are never left alone with such thoughts for long. "As you've mentioned, we have much time together ahead of us." 

"You're right," Reaching over to pat the dashboard affectionately, you succumb to his query and ascertain to find out a little bit more about the bot, aside from what is already known. "I think you'll be sick of me after all this is over,"

You freeze as a laugh resounds, almost in disbelief. "I sincerely doubt that," 

[thelongestway]

O...kay. Wow. This chapter is longer than I expected.

Yeah, this is nothing like the last story. This one keeps throwing me for a loop.

Let's just say that, while this development is in broad accordance with my outline, I am going to see if the next chapters I have planned even work after this. At all.

Chapter 6

When it awoke the next day of its imprisonment, this Friend did not know what to do with itself. So it washed. It ate the food left for it by one of the ship crew. It tried the terminal, but the power was cut. It inquired about the flight plan so it could provide a nearby destination point, but received the answer that the Trellians were still in negotiations. There was nothing to do, so this Friend pulled up the logs from the incident at the Preservation Station, requested pen and paper through Dandelion, and started conducting a formal threat assessment by hand.

Now that it had the time and space for an in-depth overview, the logs looked even more bizzare. Preservation Station security had initially banned Dandelion from entering entirely--an understandable move on their part. However, when they gave permission, it was so long as her drone was accompanied by a particular independent security consultant, who used the call sign 'SecUnit'. And nothing else.

This Friend found itself raising an eyebrow. Someone on Preservation had nerve. 'It' was apparently some sort of poly-drone control expert. Which made sense, for someone with expertise with biomechanical control schemas, and for someone who would be assigned to babysitting an unknown drone. From its outdated, three-something-year-old information, Preservation had few cyberneticists worth mentioning. It wouldn't be surprising for them to employ at least a few outsiders.

In her improvised extraction attempt, Dandelion had apparently identified this 'SecUnit' as the only real threat on site, able to incapacitate her drone, so she shut it down. Not the drone, the expert. Which meant it had enough augmentations for her to be able to do that from the feed. This Friend found itself wondering if Iceblink's attack would have killed this 'SecUnit' outright. Then it stopped daydreaming and went back to work.

Despite its area of expertise, 'SecUnit' did not attack her drone. It dropped a firewall, locking her in and alerting security. This Friend was very quick in the feed, and it would still likely have had to try for the drone out of pure necessity. This was impressive on its own, but then Dandelion woke 'SecUnit', and convinced it to help her extract this Friend. By sending it a hyperlink about the Friends and extolling its work ethic.

And somehow the security consultant switched from cursing her out in the feed to being adamantly against Preservation doctors 'healing' the Friend within the span of three seconds. Adamantly enough to… Actually suggest Dandelion take it hostage, instead of everyone else in the room, and allow her to do an alien remnant bit on its body? Which apparently it had drone-like control of?

The Friend buried its face in its hands and groaned.

"Having trouble, Friend?" Dandelion said with a tinge of irony.

It decided not to hide its frustration.

"Your extraction of this Friend's body, Dandelion Tenacious, is one of the most confounding things this Friend has ever seen in its job, and it flew a corporate blockade in a tiny shuttle several cycles ago."

They were not connected beyond the leash Dandelion had on this Friend, but it still felt her amusement. Deciding not to give her the satisfaction, this Friend made itself ignore the alien remnant bit. Besides, it was much worse that the timing made no sense. 'SecUnit' couldn't have read the whole file; nobody except bots and constructs processed data that fast. And if 'SecUnit' recognized the idea enough to follow up on it…

What the hell was going on aboard Preservation Station? Were there Friends already working here that it could no longer recall? Was there another dubiously friendly leak?

The later negotiations with Preservation Security were largely visibly redacted--Dandelion had informed the Friend she was under a non-disclosure clause. But there was one document originally intended for her from that time frame which she could share, and did.

This Friend read it. It was a threat assessment. It read the text again, then leaned back in the chair.

"Oh, you double-spiral of a penis, may you meet a cunt far twistier than you are," it said, and suddenly remembered it wasn't alone. "Uh. Dandelion?"

"Yes?"

"If this Friend may ask. Was this the… How did your feedhound put it… The one other paranoid asshole that accurately got my measure?"

The ship chuckled. This Friend felt odd to hear it, and conflicted. Irritation mixed with grudging relief.

"It was."

"This 'SecUnit' did well. This Friend asks to pass on its professional respects."

"Hmm." When this Dandelion had been human, she must have had the worst little smile. "No. I don't think I will."

Fuck you, this Friend thought, but forced a correspondingly terrible smile. "Ah, but this Friend is a prisoner. It almost forgot."

"True, but irrelevant. Apparently, Preservation Security has a package for you, from the people you saved. SecUnit will be the one to pass it on. It should be here in half an hour, perhaps. So if you have any respects to pay, Friend, you will not need me as an intermediary."

This Friend gave a shrug. There was nothing to do but continue the analysis until it got to meet the mystery poly-drone expert. It was mildly looking forward to it.

After 35 minutes, the Friend's door slid open. It said, "SecUnit." And looked up.

And this Friend nearly forgot how to breathe.

When it had briefly skimmed the video feeds (it had always preferred text to video), it did not pay much attention to the shaggy-looking augmented human with a perpetually bored expression on its face. But what walked in was definitely not human.

What gave it away? Everything. Yes, it was shorter than standard SecUnits were--this Friend's augmentations calculated, and gave it two centimeters, legs and arms both. Yes, the shaggy hair, grown out to make the data ports look more standard to the untrained eye. But this Friend knew machines, and it knew constructs, and-. And the movements. The drones. The practiced stare at the wall. There were energy weapon ports under the sleeves. It could imagine every bit of that hydraulic in its legs in detailed schemas.

"Yes." The SecUnit said. "I've got a package for you. From your clients."

No SecUnit says, 'I've got', what the fuck, was what the Friend wanted to say.

And but you were listed as an independent security contractor. And this has officially stopped being a shitshow and has become a fucking serial.

And are you really rogue or just undercover, because if you're undercover, your call sign is really stupid. And did they actually inject this Friend with antidrenomate and it is having the weirdest final hallucination. And did you just walk off the pages of this Friend's childhood scribbles to tell it that it has a package from its clients.

Instead it stared at the SecUnit like an idiot. And said, "SecUnit. Fuck. That wasn't a code name."

It wasn't even a code name, it was a call sign, this is fucking mortifying, the Friend thought, and couldn't say a word.

The SecUnit held out its package. The Friend took it automatically and set it down on the portion of the scribbles where it had called the SecUnit assorted creative names.

They stared at each other some more. Then the SecUnit turned and walked out.

This Friend stared at the package. Then it sat down on its bed. Then it started laughing.

Once this Friend's throat was hoarse, it said, through dying fits of laughter, "Dandelion? Are- are you there?"

"Yes?" she answered, somewhere between bewildered and concerned.

"Could you have told this Friend you were working with an actual fucking SecUnit, or was this an act of very creative friendicide?"

"Firstly, I am incredibly disturbed by this Friend having the word 'friendicide' in its active vocabulary. Secondly, SecUnit's designation was in every single piece of data I gave you. How, exactly, did you not notice?"

The Friend doubled over with laughter again, feeling the fits somewhere outside of itself, like it almost floated above its body.

"This- ahhhahaha- this- this Friend noticed! It- it- oh, it can't, it fucking can't- it just thought it was some cheeky fucker saying 'fuck you, you don't get to know me, assholes!!!' Dandelion, did you know that random hostiles, the kind that come out of nowhere and cause chaos, are sometimes called 'Friends' in s-sec circles? For old times' sake?"

"I did not," she answered quietly.

"Well, this Friend- oh, fuck it, fuck its entire fucking life- has always thought it would be kind of fitting if it used something like SecUnit for a call sign. You know. We're not so different. They clean shit up, we clean shit up. They jump in front of their clients, we jump in front of ours. They get completely fucked over and used up in a matter of years, and we- it- this Friend-"

It couldn't finish. The words stuck in its throat.

"Friend. You should know that it pinged me a few seconds ago to ask if you needed a cubicle of some kind, and I responded that you seemed back to normal once it left. I think I might have been too hasty on the matter."

The vitriol that filled its mouth. It snapped, loud and clear, "What cubicle? You'll have to kill this Friend if it takes one step out of this room, remember?"

"I am the ship's senior medical officer. I have emergency clearance." Dandelion said, calmly.

It took a deep breath, another, another. It was here, on this bed. Blue blanket. Light gray walls. Dead terminal. Leashed. But not drowning.

"It is fine. This situation is fine. This friend is alive. You're alive, despite its best efforts. The refugees are alive. They sent this Friend a box." It thought, These ones. This time. If this Friend only had a ship as fast as…

But it wouldn't. It never would, because it had the ship's help, it had its good will, and it tried to kill it.

Friend. Dandelion said, slipping into its feed quietly. How long was your mission?

The burst of nervous clarity was gone. It supposed it would follow soon enough. "Three and a half years. Why?"

That is far too long. Even for a Public Universal Friend.

It was on the shore again, and it wondered if its stupid little wet sand-castle would finally wash away. Its walls did not protect anyone. If they ever could. This Friend was, after all, so much crumbling sand.

Just drown it already, would you. It murmured. This Friend is of no use anymore.

The ship obliged. Its waves rose and took the Friend, and it fell into a dark, deep ocean.

And then it was gone.

[wolfqueen66793]

‼️Sonic Prime Spoilers‼️

Warning: LONG!

Putting my thoughts together on this new season, overall I found it very enjoyable! Definitely my favorite season.

Loved the Sonadow! Lots of great moments from the two hedgehogs, it’s so very important to me that we got to see a softer more concerned side of Shadow, even if you don’t ship Sonadow you have to admit him not being a asshole was great!

However I do wish we got to see more of him, I’m definitely fine with the amount we got, not only for the season but the show overall! But I hate the trend Sega has made where they put Shadow in a show and he quickly gets put to the side lines.

I think a great thing they could have done with Shadow is when he’s separated from Sonic still have episodes with him! We could have seen him recover from the fall into the ravine and fight his way out as a episode, or it could have been a prisoner situation! (Or both) Nine could have some how contained Shadow after being weakened by the Grim Bots, that would let the writers keep a power house like Shadow out of the fight but not out of the plot. Anytime we cut back to Nine we would also be cutting back to Shadow.

There was also the 3-4 Episode fighting, now honestly I didn’t care but I did notice it. Did the fights get a repetitive? Yeah, It was a lot of repeating the same stuff but I forgive it because during this long fight was all the lovely character interactions and growth, which is what I think we should focus on. Dread choosing his crew over Treasure, The Roses, The great moment between New Yoke Knuckles and Sonic vs Nine (though that probably should have been given to Shadow honestly, he was in the fight but we saw him the least it feels) and I loved the relationship between Mangey and Sails.

But I do have a small problem with how they handled Mangey and Sails in the fight, the writers gave them a “Death” scene. Now that I was really down for, but looking back on it It just makes me think “why?” Now logistically it was probably the writers wanting to take some characters out to write less, which honestly fair enough! They had a lot of characters to juggle.

But I wish there “Death” meant something more than just to get them out of the fight until the end where they come back with the Grim Big Bot, now I’m a BIG sucker for Sonic and Tails moments! And I love everything for them, I love there happy moments and I love there sad moments. Sonic and Tails’s relationship is my absolute favorite thing about the Sonic series! And because of that I wished there “death” was something more important, we got to see Sonic be actually hurt about there deaths and I love that! But I wish it just had a little bit more time, have it be the moment where he really starts to see Nine as someone dangerous, someone who can do some real damage, I know sonic is a guy who believes in second chances, and I’m not at all asking sonic to go into a blind rage and attack Nine, that just wouldn’t make sense. But I’d like a moment where Sonic would just yell up to Nine with anger but also sadness, he just had to watch other variants of his little brother die from another one of his brother, because he was too slow. (Or maybe I’m just a big sucker for angst and just like watching Sonic suffer)

And lastly there is the ending, now honestly all the other things I’ve mentioned before this point are things that I actually don’t mind but I’d probably just change a bit. And this also applies to the ending, just a tad less. I found the ending to be very unsatisfying and confusing, we were told we were supposed to understand why prime was so strange for the Sonic canon but we got 0 answers, and the ending is very open (which is a thing I don’t like for show finales, almost entirely) but, we we’re supposed to get 8eps this season but the season only had 7, that’s what Netflix ordered, so where is the last episode? What I’d like and what seems to be what others would like or at least have speculated is that Sonic Prime will get a extra long episode or Movie later down the line, to properly wrap everything up.

I’d definitely be down for something like that, it reminds me what Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles did with their show, after there show was put on a indefinite pause they were given the opportunity to make a Netflix movie to wrap up the story. And it’s one of my all time favorite movies! There is most definitely more that they can do with this show, and I really wish this turns out to be the case, because if this is where Netflix actually leaves the show off it will kinda suck ngl, a bad ending kinda can put a whole show off for me (not that this show will end up like that for me but still) and it would also mean Sega pretty much lied to us about understanding the timeline.

So I hope the strange cliffhanger we got with shadow taking the prism shards, the shatter spaces still being a thing and that random (most likely) prism energy blast with what looked to be a shadow of a large ship (probably the eggmen) appearing in the sky we will get that last episode Netflix ordered as a longer special that will help us understand things and give us a more satisfying ending!

But there we go! My thoughts and critiques on prime season 3. I definitely loved the season and I’ll be thinking about the Sonadow scenes we got pretty much every day just like the metal virus arc!

Here are some Sonadow pics for making it this far!