#that it's super easy to overlook and ignore that part

[angstysebfan]

Only Us (One Shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You have an interesting relationship that Bucky keeps running away from. You finally confront him. Warnings: Some Angst, but lots of LOVE

A/N: Just changed a few small things with this one, but it’s another one of my favs. If you’ve never heard this song, look it up. It’s from Dear Evan Hansen, and when I heard it I immediately thought about Bucky.  If you would like to be a part of my new taglist please request. My previous one is now gone. All my stories were not edited or beta’d, so I’m sorry if there is grammar or typo errors.

You knew exactly where he was. The same place he always went to when he needed to think, but this time you weren’t going to let him get away that easy. You and Bucky had an interesting relationship, if you wanted to call it that. You were friends and partners on the field, but you both also had feelings for each other. One moment he would have you up against a wall kissing the hell out of you, and then in the blink of an eye he would be cold and ignore you. But the worst was when you had an amazing night of love and passion together, and then he has completely avoided you since. You knew he was scared, but you were tired of this back and forth game. You were going to confront him once and for all and make him understand that you are both meant to be, and there was nothing to be scared of. You stood in the elevator thinking about what you were going to say. You knew he was going to try and make a haste exit, but you had to stop him and make him listen to you.

When the elevator stopped at the roof, you exited and saw him standing at the railing, overlooking the Avengers Compound property. You slowly walked up to him, waiting for him to turn around. You knew he heard you coming, with the super soldier serum it was difficult to sneak up on him. You saw his shoulders tense as you came closer, causing you to stop.

“Bucky, we need to talk about this,” you say calmly. He drops his head then turns toward you still saying nothing. “You can’t sleep with me and then ignore me,” you say in frustration. “You make me feel…” you stop talking shaking your head.

“We can’t do this Y/N,” he says quietly.

You meet his eyes and see sadness. “Why? You need to give me a pretty damn good reason, because I am tired of this back and forth with you,” you say crossing your arms.

He shakes his head and starts walking toward the building. “I can’t talk about this now,” he says.

You step in front of him to block his path. “No! You can’t keep doing this to me!” You start poking him in the chest. “First you flirt with me, then you get cold towards me, then you kiss me, then you hide from me, then we spend the best night of my life together, and then you run again. I am done playing this game! I know you like me, but you are trying to talk yourself out of it. Why?! What is so wrong with me that you can’t let yourself be with me?!”

Tears are now flowing down your cheeks. Bucky stares at you, shock and regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry I am hurting you, but this is to protect you. I'm not a good enough man for you. I'm seen as a monster, and will bring you down with me with all my baggage! I'll hurt you in the end, and I'll never forgive myself if...when I do,” he says, tears now building in his blue eyes.

“But, you're hurting me now,” you say with a shaky voice. You hear him suck in a breath. You look at him and cup his cheek. “You don’t have to convince me. You don’t have to be scared your not enough, cause what we’ve got going is good,” you say.

He shakes his head sadly and tries to step back, but you take a step closer grabbing his face to make him look at you. “We don’t need more reminders of all that’s been broken. I don’t need you to fix what you'd rather forget. Clear the slate and start over, Bucky. Try to quiet the noises in your head, cause we can’t compete with all that,” you say with a breathy laugh. "Just let it be us and only us."

He smiles at you. “I never thought there'd be someone like you who would want me,” he says, tears now coming down his face. "So I'll give you 10,000 reasons to not let me go."

He grabs your waist and pulls you closer. “But if you really see me, if you like me for me, and nothing else. Then that’s all that I’ve wanted for longer than you could possibly know,” he says as he wraps his arms around you.

He leans his forehead against yours, as you slide your hands around his neck, brushing through the small hairs on his neck. You look at him with a smile. “So can it be us and only us. And what came before won’t count any more or matter. Can we try that?” You ask, as you caress his hair. 

He continues to look at you. “I’m scared. What if you change your mind?” he asks, and you see the fear in his eyes.

You peck his lips. “I won’t. It’s not so impossible, just imagine no body else but the two of us here,” you say.

He gives you a small smile. “You’re saying it’s possible?” he asks.

You nod, pulling him closer. “We can just watch the whole world disappear, till you’re the only one I still know how to see,” you whisper.

He smiles and kisses you passionately. When he pulls back he looks into your eyes. “It’s just you and me,” he says quietly. 

You hug him and whisper in his ear, “That’s all that we need it to be. The rest of the world falls away, and it’s only us.”

--

Seriously go listen to that song and tell me it doesn’t scream Bucky Barnes! Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595

[panic-at-the-waffle-house]

Some Haikyuu Analysis because I’m hyper fixating on it again :/

I’ve seen a lot of people have debates over characterization of characters—literally all of them because they’re so complex and it’s impossible to narrow down two or three traits to one character and one only. As people, it’s easy for us to understand something that is labeled; labeled with one or two words. But characters/people don’t allow for that.

Maybe I just want to talk about my favorite boys.

Oikawa is presented to us as this “royal king” who’s the BEST. Kageyama, the most skilled person we were introduced to so far, is terrified of this boy. Like straight up, his sleeper agent eyes had some backstory. We meet Oikawa and he’s cocky, a little shit, and presenting his facade that he WANTS us to see. Later on in the series we can catch a glimpse into who he really is, what drives him, and see why he acts in such a way.

His mental breakdown is often memed on (I’m guilty of this) which is informant because it creates a building block for so many characters; Oikawa is not the only one.

We learn why Iwaizumi has such a strong loyalty to Oikawa. We see the parallels between Oikawa and Kageyama, the lines that connect Oikawa and Ushijima.

Oikawa is a perfectionist in the worst way possible. I can say this because I. Am. Just. Like. Him.

He sets a goal and will sacrifice whatever it is to accomplish that goal. But just reaching that goal will never be enough for him because there will always be another goal that is just out of his reach. Sure. He may defeat Kageyama and Ushijima, but there will always been someone else to surpass; another end line that keeps moving farther until he pushes himself past a limit that he believes is non-existent. Such a cycle is toxic and slowly wears down your mental health especially which is why Iwaizumi is so damn loyal to keep Oikawa on stable ground. But one person can only do so much.

It’s not like Oikawa doesn’t know this, he’s not oblivious to this cycle—he chooses to ignore it because if he accepts this fact then he will never be his version of perfect. I feel like he not only resents himself for his lack of skills and ability to do xyz, but because he knows he can’t stop and that his best friend is on a wild goose chase (that’s not true, but that’s another post)

Someone with this mentally will eventually crack and just collapse somehow. It’s happened to me and it happened to him—but it can always happen again.

Moving on :D

Sugawara is overlook a lot of the time mainly due to him not having the most play time and not being super stellar in volleyball compared to a lot of other people. But I think he’s stellar in general because he has traits that so many other players lack—empathy and positivity. His level of positivity not only helps him on the court, but others as well and works as motivation, think about the times he’s been subbed into the match. He’s personal with others which allows for a stronger bond and connection which then leads to a strong team overall because everyone knows this guy and can rely on him consistently.

Empathy is something a lot of athletes struggle with, but he has it and his empathy and understanding is part of the reason why Karasuno made it so far. Giving your all doesn’t always mean being the best or performing 100%, it can be giving your all in decision making (if that makes sense).

He gave his all when giving up his spot as the starting setter for Karasuno. He opened up a brand new door.

Suga hurts because of this decision, we know this because it’s staged in the show, but it’s a sacrifice that he made for others because he wanted them to succeed; he didn’t need to succeed. That’s what’s beautiful because at the end of the day, he’s still a teenage boy and that’s what makes him so human and lovable. He has every single right to mourn and be sad for something he gave up willingly, but instead of dwelling on it, he gives himself to the team because his team means more to him than anything else.

That’s tragic in my eyes because Sugawara deserves so much love. His actions are overlooked not just in the fandom, but by his own team members and that’s what breaks my heart. Seeing someone put everything and then having a pat on the back as thanks.

Shoutout to Daichi and Tanaka for checking in on him.

Both Oikawa and Sugawara give their all, just in different ways and for different reasons. We can’t boil Oikawa down to “perfectionist” and Sugawara down to “sacrifice” because that’s not what they are. It makes up part of their art, but it’s just a single stroke.

If you couldn’t tell, I could go on about these two for days and days until I develop hypertension by how worked up I get lol. I love these two because I see so much of myself in them and feel validated about my own insecurities. Oikawa, Sugawara, thanks you little bastards.

[feuerwizard]

do you have any unpopular opinions about caleb?

to clarify: no one in the rpc is guilty of what i am about to explain, more of the general c/ritical r/ole fandom as a whole!

i wouldn't say this is an unpopular opinion necessarily as much as i do find it a bit frustrating that the c/ritical r/ole fandom as a whole sometimes tends to overlook or ignore what a bad person early campaign caleb really was. they sort of just simplify him to sad quirky boy who likes cats and by the end, he's less sad quirky boy who likes cats.

a bit of caleb meta under the cut because i am obsessed with him.

this is not exclusive to the critical role fandom of course, but fandom, in general, can sometimes ignore a character arc starting from a less-than-ideal place if they have deemed that particular character as a favorite boy who can do no wrong. this absolutely happens in discussions surrounding caleb and his character arc because he ends up in such a positive (or positive for him) place by the end of the campaign. it's very easy to ignore the low if you can choose instead to focus on the high.

as a writer, this is something i feel very passionate about not doing. caleb is such an interesting character to me because of where he came from and the growth he overcomes throughout his character arc. is caleb as bad as trent? absolutely not, but he was still a pretty shitty person and extremely single-minded in his pursuits. even if his motivations were noble (saving his parents from himself) i think we have seen from a lot of popular media that even the best of villains start from noble pursuits. not saying caleb is a villain, not at all, but you get my point. he was clearly struggling with his worst instincts and it's his friends that caused him to start looking inwards.

don't believe me? ask liam o'brien!

i've been watching a lot of old liam interviews where he talks about early campaign caleb and this one stood out to me as the most direct example of the demons caleb was fighting with every day and how he sometimes allowed them to win. when asked why caleb chose to do the blood pact with fjord, this is what he said.

“…he saw fjord become tempted by power and in that moment, he’s very much like trent, the man who molded him, saw a split second in time where he [fjord] had hunger in his eyes and thought that it could be molded or bent for caleb’s use. and thought, I could take a risk here….and use him and pull a favor out of this.” 

this is very crappy and manipulative behavior towards a friend! liam then follows it up by expressing how guilty caleb felt over it due to his increasing care of the nein.

"caleb was disgusted with himself at that moment...i think that he was a product of his schooling in that moment. and part of him was like 'yes' but most of him went you fucking piece of filth. look at you."

was caleb, as a child, a victim of abuse grooming? absolutely. did this mold caleb into someone not super great? also yes. both things can be true and it doesn't minimize the abuse that caleb suffered. he's a product of his environment and that's what makes his growth so powerful. love saves people. he is genuinely changed by the friends in his life who chose to look past his mistakes and the man that trent molded him into and instead saw him for the person he could choose to be now. caleb is extremely kind and painstakingly earnest. he just needed the right people in his life to allow that to come out again. to allow the softness.

when caleb is talking to essek in the infamous forehead kiss scene, he is not talking just talking about the mistakes he made as a young teenager in killing his family, but he is also referring to the person he was when he met the nein. that is the fool in caleb's mind. not a manipulated child bren. he sees a lot of himself in essek because i think he sees how easily he could have become essek if not for the nein. and also why essek's redemption is so meaningful to him. if essek can do it, maybe he can too.

trauma doesn't define either of them.

i feel so passionate about this because i think caleb's character arc is genuinely one of the most powerful explorations of trauma and healing i've ever seen in a fictional property and overlooking the person he was at the beginning is a disservice to how far he comes by the end. the genuinely good person he grows into becoming.

"pain doesn’t make people. it’s love that makes people. the pain is inconsequential. it’s love that saves them."

[evietales]

Let's talk about Chrissy and her relationship with her dad. We always talk about things with her mom, but what does she feel about her dad? Who is he to her beyond a father? Does he care? Does SHE care? Tell us about them.

oooooh , this is such a good one ! my headcanon of laura cunningham is that she has a bit of a spending problem , an attempt to keep up the latest trends in sears catalogs. so it puts a lot of pressure to philip to pick up extra hours at his job. i headcanon that philip works a 9-5 office job , but i'm not sure what exactly. probably insurance, yeah i think that sounds right ? philip and laura met in high school , he came from the cunningham family which they weren't exactly super well off but pretty known in hawkins as a generational thing ( i don't know if im making sense ) ? and then you have laura , who was a pastor's daughter and from a decently affluent family. i don't know if it was necessarily ever love from laura's part , with philip being on the football team and her being considered " popular " herself ? for philip , i think he did genuinely love laura , at least at first. but they married pretty young , basically right out of high school and things weren't always as good as they seemed? laura put a lot of pressure on him for the perfect american dream , and it was a lot of pressure for him to live up to. i don't think chrissy was necessarily planned? but she worked for a little while as a " band-aid " to fix their marriage. and i think for a little while , it did help. at least until laura began not only putting pressure on philip , but chrissy as well. growing up, philip was chrissy's world ! she viewed him as an amazing father , who worked all the time to provide the life that she had. because despite her mother , chrissy does recognize her life was privileged. but i think a lot of her view changed as she grew up and began to see philip for what he was. a lot of his " late hours " ? spent more often with his secretary than his family. he was quiet , ignored / overlooked the abuse that laura cunningham inflicted on their daughter. he never spoke up about it , never protected chrissy from her. he was more content with pretending his home life was fine. if he wasn't working " late hours " , philip was often just found in his recliner in the living room , with a drink in hand. it's where he would pass out. it wouldn't be out of the norm for chrissy to have to wake him up in the morning , to remind him to get ready for work if her mother hadn't already with her shrill screaming. there is clearly no love between philip and laura cunningham , though from an outsiders view it might seem that they're the happiest couple in hawkins ! i think he does love his children , in a weird arms length away type of love. but philip is so miserable in his life , he sees his children as part of the issue ? it's never the life he wanted , at least looking back at things. he was forced to settle down , he was forced into this role because of laura and it's made him miserable. if he didn't have to worry about taking care of them or breaking up their home , he could live the life he wanted. so in a way, he might view chrissy as something of a burden , even if he would never admit it ? so , there is love for his children , but there's also disdain for them as well. it should be more pointed at his wife , but it would be so easy to leave her if it wasn't for the children.

chrissy's views on philip are complicated to say the least. she loves her dad , but knows her dad is an active participant in her abuse. even if her abuse comes from her mother , her father does nothing to stop it. he is either never home to do so , or simply is too far in his drink / pretends it doesn't happen. he'll always be her father , so there will always be that connection there. and i think part of her will always search for the dad she remembers as a younger child, the man who hung the moon and stars ? but she knows now that she's older and sees him for who he really is, that man doesn't exist? veering a little off topic , and more so to our portrayals / headcanons : but i think the more she learns about uncle wayne , the more she realizes what a real father should be like ? the way she sees the care he has for eddie , it makes her long for those days of when she was younger and her father would never miss a ballet recital? it's why he starts to mean so much to her as a father figure.

[feyhunter78]

Personal rant about an issues I’m having with my best friend under the cut, TW mentions of past sexual trauma both fictional and IRL

Thinking about how Alicent and Rhaenyra coded my best friend and I are, (minus the gay undertones) she’s headstrong, beautiful, confident, feels like she deserves what she wants no matter what and has no fear that her father won’t be there to catch her when she falls. But it makes her ignorant to the deeper plights of others and she lacks the knowledge to look further into things, and weigh her opinions and options before she speaks. She’s so strong and confident that she refuses to accept that her thoughts and opinions can be wrong, and she never does any research.

She was like “I’ve heard Andrew Tate talk some and I think he might be right” and I was like friend???? The man is a sex trafficker who has been quoted saying that women who aren’t virgins are damaged goods, and his OWN SISTER doesn’t talk to him. And she was like “oh I didn’t really look him up or anything” like motherfucker are you serious????

Then you’ve got me, quieter, more traditional, (still beautiful, but my goodness my best friend is a different level) always trying to do what’s right, do what I was supposed to do, trying to make sure everyone is okay, that my words and actions won’t harm and if they do can I take them back or make up for them?

I’m more agreeable, people see me as soft and kind, easy to talk to, but it comes with this guilt, religious, personal, social, whatever I’m always, always watching, always considering the other side because I know what it feels like to be powerless. And I do my fucking research because you have to know the rules!!!!

We’ve argued over TG or TB and she just refuses to accept that Alicent’s actions are motivated by valid reasons, that she was a child victim and was a victim until her husband finally died. She also blows past the fact that Daemon groomed and assaulted Rhaenyra because “they’re so hot” and I just???? I could not and cannot understand how she can overlook the pain and trauma these characters went through and act like it’s absolutely nothing.

Then we got in a bit of a thing because she got into booktok smut and I tried to warn her about the trigger stuff in some of the books and she’s like “oh it’s fine, yeah he like rapes her in this one part, but he basically makes it up with his words in the end” and I’m ????

Like yeah I like my dark stuff too but not a love interest who’s a rapist💀 there is no coming back from that for me????

And the fact that she just doesn’t care, doesn’t even stop to think about how her lack of care for the atrocities committed towards female characters in literally any media affects her is just so concerning to me. It’s like because nothing like that has happened to her then it’s not real??? Or it’s just like “not that big of a deal”????

Like y’all who read Pink Pastels know I went through shit, not a full assault but something similar that I left out of the fic because it was too much and I hadn’t really accepted what had happened. And the fact that what is it one in five women have been assaulted??? Statistically speaking she knows women who have been!!!!

So it makes me sick to my stomach that she’s so blasé about this stuff. To be fair to her, I never told her about it but I have now and I haven’t gotten a response yet so I’ll hold judgment until I do. (She hasn’t seen the Snapchat yet)

I just it really frustrates me because she is such a good friend outside of this stuff but she just lives such a different life from everyone else (her family is super rich) and I feel bad because I really want reality to knock some sense into her with a baseball bat. She just doesn’t understand that people actually suffer this stuff it’s not all just fun in games and ha ha giggles oh he’s so hot!!!

Like bestie I’m here, standing in front of you, asking if you fucked Daemon in a pleasure house (if you really are going to keep reading and flaunting your love of these dark, violent, terribly written books) while I’m trapped with your old ass father who’s been assaulting me and ignoring the children he forced me to have (carrying and trying to sort out the multitude of trauma from my ex) begging you to tell me that you didn’t and you still see me as your friend (that you aren’t a horrible pick me girl who doesn’t actually care about the pain and suffering women go through just because you haven’t experienced it)

[x-neurotoxin-x]

giran x dabi pleaseeee they’re so fucked up i love them i wanna hear your take on them

God, i love girabi. They've got so much flavor, so many different ways to spin them. Fun fact; girabi was basically my first ship in the fandom

In a more mild way, they're mutually using each other. Dabi uses Giran for drugs, money, and a place to crash, and Giran uses Dabi for his body. It can be a chill exchange-- Dabi's hungry and needs a place to sleep for the night? Giran makes him suck him off. Dabi needs some oxys to deal with his pain flare ups? Well, Giran wants him to bend over then. He needs some money? No problem, Giran can make some phone calls and pimp him out. It's only fucked up when Dabi's draining Giran dry by asking for money and drugs all the time and Giran's pushing Dabi into heavier and heavier kinks and making him do more and more shit.

I love the hc that Giran pimped dabi out btw. Especially if he kinda groomed dabi into it. Like dabi was already doing sex work bc of course he was, he had no other way to get by, but working alone as a teen is rough and he probably got ripped off/shorted or just flat out beaten up and raped by johns because he seemed like an easy target. Along comes Giran to play the nice guy, "aw kid, they're gonna eat you alive out here. Lemme watch out for you, I'll make sure nobody hurts ya or rips ya off, you just gonna let me get part of the cut."

Goes fine at first. Even after a little while Giran let's Touya stay with him bc he's "so nice," and keeps taking more and more of Dabi's earnings from the prostitution and telling him "well, ya gotta earn your keep, sunshine. You gotta pay rent somehow. You gotta pay me back for that take out I got you, aren't ya?"

Any time Dabi complains about barely getting any money back or not feeling up for seeing clients that night bc he's tired/sore/not in the mood, Giran hits him with the "ah so you just wanna stay here rent free then? You're not gonna pay me back for all the shit I've done for you? I took you in off the street out of the goodness of my heart, kid, if you're gonna be stingy then you can just leave." Until Dabi gives in.

Love if Dabi develops a sorta trauma bond type situation with Giran bc yeah he makes him do some uncomfy stuff, but he's so nice to him and Touya's so unused to anybody being nice to him or caring about him. Giran gets him high and fucks him within an inch of his life, but he tells him how pretty he is and he treats him to a fancy breakfast the next morning. Dabi doesn't feel up to seeing clients one night, but Giran calls them over anyway, completely ignores his cries when they rape him, and he's super upset about it, sure, but afterwards Giran comforts him and cleans him up, tells him what a good boy he is and lovebombs the fuck out of him. Anytime Giran does something fucked up, like beating Dabi or verbslly abusing him by calling him a worthless street whore and whatnot or taking advantage of him or pimping him out to some assholes, he makes up for it later by lovebombing Dabi, buying him little treats and trinkets and fancy meals, praising him and saying all the things Touya wanted to hear from his Dad. He can't stay mad at him, starts to overlook the red flags bc yeah Giran can be mean sometimes but most of the time he's so, so nice and Touya owes him anyway.

Also. I fuckin. Love love love the fics and stuff where Giran uses his fucky memory quirk thing on dabi and fucks him stupid. Giran why tf is your quirk basically a roofie? It's so good

[random-hunter]

I'm having pirate thoughts again and reverse engineering the final episode. I know. Super surprising for anyone who's dealt with my sporadic posting over the last year and a half.

These fall mainly into Zheng Yi Sao and Izzy categories and I havent connected shit so this is mostly just a way to get my thoughts in order and hope someone way smarter has ideas.

First Zheng Yi Sao.

I feel like she is way to smart to not see the clocks as a threat. Its sus for someone you are blackmailing to send massive ticking boxes to every ship. I dont know how she or Auntie could overlook that.

Do clocks make that big banging sound? I haven't heard one in 20 years, but I dont think it made that thud before chiming the hour. When they kicked it, it sounded like they knocked something loose. Plus they moved it several times. Multiple opportunities to look inside. Also, Aunti can smell the length of Ed's hair from the deck of the hip but she cant smell the explosives?

Her ribbons are all over the Republic because she was recruiting. For what? What was she planning? That seems like a great way for her people to have a place to hide, which she has been shown to do in the Republic.

Lastly, she has been shown to offer teaming up when she is taking over someones crew, like she did to Maaka. I've heard that there is a pic of her sailing away on the Revenge without Stede or Ed. Would Stede see her offer to team up as a threat and plan accordingly?

Now for Izzy.

What started my thoughts was the post about the cross at the grave looking like his leg and sword. Ignoring the fact it's weird to give him a land burial, its extra weird to not bury him with his leg and weapon considering that would be very easy to take. But, that means it would be the easiest way to get them back if Izzy faked his death for some reason.

Next, apparently we have a pic somewhere of Ed next to a body that has its head covered and you can see what appears to be the sock Con has to edit his leg out. Again, face is covered so onlookers wouldnt know if its actually Izzy or how badly he is injured. This would be a practical was to do the body switch if you dont have a piano to drop on the face.

The shot of Ed's bloody hand telling everyone to stay back. I'm guessing this goes with the shot of the head covered. Telling everyone to stay back also doesnt allow them to see the extent of the injury or notice if it's not actually him.

The shot of Izzy in the cell seems weird. Why are we focusing so much on him. It's a lot. Its beautiful, but they literally part the croud as he dramatically looks up from the shadows. Someone has singled him out in a big way to make that group part like that.

I think that's it for now. I'm kinda leaning toward Zheng offers a team up, Stede is sus and talks to Ed and/or Izzy, Izzy becomes English Enemy #1 when he has the dramatic "you dont know what it means to be a pirate" talk with Ricky and then holds him at gunpoint and uses him to break into an English camp, at some point Team Steddy Hands decide to fake Izzys death so the crown backs off and they dont know if they can trust Zheng so they hide it from everyone who isnt the three of them. No idea how the rest of the Zheng stuff fits in. Mostly I love her but I dont trust her.

[trendingbulb]

Mastering Bulk Messaging: Advantages, Mistakes to Avoid, and Best Practices

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Common Mistakes to Avoid

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4. Poor Message Quality 😬

Quality over quantity! Craft clear, engaging messages with a strong call-to-action (CTA). Avoid boring or confusing content that could reduce the impact of your messages.

5. Skipping Testing and Analysis 📊

Test, analyze, and improve! Use A/B testing to see what works best and track metrics like open rates and click-through rates. This data helps you tweak your strategy for better results.

Best Practices for Effective Bulk Messaging

1. Segment Your Audience 📋

Divide your audience into specific groups based on relevant criteria. This allows you to send targeted messages that resonate more with each group, increasing engagement.

2. Craft Engaging Messages 📝

Write clear and compelling messages with a strong CTA. Make sure your content is easy to read and encourages recipients to take action.

3. Optimize Timing and Scheduling ⏰

Timing is everything! Analyze past campaign data to find the best times to send your messages. Use scheduling tools to ensure they go out at optimal times.

4. Ensure Mobile Compatibility 📱

Many people read messages on their phones, so make sure your content looks great on mobile devices. Use responsive design and test on different screen sizes.

5. Monitor and Adapt 📈

Keep an eye on your campaign performance. Track key metrics and use the data to refine your strategy. Continuous improvement is key to success!

6. Stay Compliant and Respect Privacy 🔒

Always get explicit consent from recipients and provide easy opt-out options. Respecting privacy builds trust and helps you stay compliant with regulations.

Conclusion

Mastering bulk messaging means making the most of its advantages, avoiding common pitfalls, and following best practices. With the right approach, you can enhance your communication efforts and achieve great results. Stay tuned to our blog for more tips and tricks on bulk messaging!

Call to Action

Got any bulk messaging experiences or tips to share? Drop them in the comments below! For more advice on communication strategies, follow our blog and subscribe to our newsletter. Let’s keep improving our messaging game together!

[belldowriemotors]

 How to Avoid Common Pitfalls When Purchasing Cheap Cars for Sale

Embarking on the quest to find a reliable yet budget-friendly car can sometimes feel like navigating through a maze filled with potential pitfalls. 

The allure of cheap cars for sale Coffs Harbour is undeniable, especially when working with a tight budget or seeking a deal that seems too good to pass up. However, the journey to owning a budget-friendly vehicle doesn't have to end in regret. 

By staying informed and cautious, you can dodge common traps and secure a deal that benefits your wallet and road safety. 

This piece sheds light on vital advice for skirting the usual pitfalls during your car-buying journey, enabling you to make a smart, cost-effective purchase without compromising on quality. 

Whether you're eyeing used cars or budget vehicles, our goal is to arm you with the knowledge to navigate the car market confidently and decisively.

Factors to Consider Before Shopping for a Cheap Car

When you're on the hunt for a cheap car, it's easy to get caught up in the excitement of snagging a deal. However, a bit of preparation can make the difference between a bargain and a lemon. Here are some essential factors to consider before you start shopping.

Setting a Realistic Budget

The first step in shopping for a cheap car is to set a realistic budget. This isn't just about how much you can spend on purchasing the car itself; it also includes insurance, registration, taxes, and potential repairs that may be needed immediately. 

Make a comprehensive budget that considers all these factors. Remember, opting for a super cheap car that requires extensive repairs can turn out to be more expensive in the long run than a car with a slightly higher price tag but in better condition.

Researching Different Models and Makes

Before diving into the cheap cars for sale Coffs Harbour market, spend some time researching different models and makes. Some vehicles are renowned for their longevity and reliability, while others are notorious for ongoing problems. Look up consumer reports, reliability ratings, and forums specific to the models you're interested in.

 This research can help you identify models that are known for retaining their value and requiring fewer repairs. Also, consider fuel efficiency and parts availability in your area, as these will impact your ongoing costs.

Common Pitfalls to Avoid When Buying Cheap Cars

Buying a cheap car can be a smart financial decision, but it's fraught with potential pitfalls. Awareness and caution can help you avoid these common mistakes, ensuring your new-to-your car doesn't turn into a money pit.

Not Getting a Pre-Purchase Inspection

One of the most critical steps that buyers often overlook is not getting a pre-purchase inspection. It might seem like an unnecessary expense, especially when dealing with lower-priced vehicles, but this step is vital. 

A trusted mechanic can uncover hidden issues that are not apparent to the untrained eye, such as problems with the transmission, engine, or other critical components. 

These hidden issues can turn your cheap car into an expensive problem. Spending a little upfront on an inspection can save you a lot of money and hassle in the long run.

Overlooking Vehicle History Reports

Another common pitfall is not checking the vehicle history report. These reports can reveal a lot about a vehicle's past that might affect your decision to buy, such as previous accidents, flood damage, and whether the car has a clean title. 

Some sellers might not disclose this information, hoping to make a quick sale. Services like Carfax and AutoCheck can provide these reports for a fee, offering peace of mind that you're not buying someone else's problem.

Ignoring Hidden Costs

When buying a cheap car, it's easy to focus solely on the sticker price. However, ignoring hidden costs can be a costly mistake. Consider potential expenses such as immediate repairs needed, maintenance costs, insurance premiums, and fuel efficiency. 

A very inexpensive car that's in poor condition or an inefficient gas guzzler can end up costing more over time than investing a bit more upfront in a better-quality vehicle. Always factor in these hidden costs when calculating your total budget.

Tips for Smart Negotiation and Purchase

Finding a cheap car for sale is just the beginning. The negotiation and purchase process is where the magic happens. Here, we'll dive into understanding market values, negotiating tactics, and why that test drive is critical.

Understanding the Market Value

Understanding the market value of a car is crucial before entering into negotiations. It's like knowing the rules of the game before you play. You can use numerous online tools and resources, such as Kelley Blue Book or Edmunds, to get an estimate of the car's worth based on its condition, age, mileage, and other factors. This knowledge will arm you with the power to argue for a fair price, spot a deal too good to be true or walk away when necessary.

Negotiation Strategies for Getting a Good Deal

Negotiating the price of a car can feel daunting, but it's simpler when you're prepared. Here are a few strategies to employ:

- Begin with a Reasonable Offer: Start the negotiation with a fair offer that's slightly below the market value. It shows you've done your homework and you're serious about the purchase.

- Focus on Total Cost: Sometimes, dealers will focus on the monthly payment to distract from the total cost of the car. Keep the conversation centred on the total purchase price.

- Be Ready to Walk Away: If the negotiation isn't going in your favour, be prepared to walk away. Often, this can lead to the seller making a better offer to close the deal.

ImportanXce of a Test Drive

Never underestimate the power of a test drive. It's your best chance to check the car's condition and compatibility with your needs. During the test drive, pay attention to how the car handles, any unusual noises, and overall comfort. 

This is also the perfect time to inspect the car's features and ensure everything is in working order. Skipping this step might leave you with a car that looks good on paper but falls short in reality.

Maintenance and Long-Term Considerations

After securing a good deal on a cheap car, the journey isn't over. Planning for its upkeep and understanding its long-term value is pivotal in making the most of your purchase.

Planning for Regular Maintenance

Budget cars often come with higher mileage and wear, so setting aside a budget for regular maintenance is essential. Regular oil changes, brake checks, and tyre rotations can extend the life of the car and help avoid costly repairs down the line. 

When purchasing, ask for the car’s maintenance history to identify any recurring issues and gauge how well it’s been cared for.

Evaluating Long-Term Value and Resale Potential

Finally, consider the long-term value and resale potential of the car. Some models depreciate faster than others, and knowing this can help you make a smarter investment. Look for cars known for reliability and longevity, as they tend to hold their value better. 

Also, consider how your needs might change in the future. If you plan to sell the car eventually, think about what features or models are popular and likely to remain in demand.

When it comes to buying cheap cars for sale, the key is preparation. By understanding the market value, negotiating strategically, testing the car thoroughly, maintaining it regularly, and considering its long-term value, you can avoid the common pitfalls many fall into. 

Conclusion

In conclusion, purchasing a cheap car doesn't mean compromising quality or ending up with a lemon. By staying informed, doing your homework, and inspecting the vehicle thoroughly, you can nab yourself a bargain while avoiding the common pitfalls. Remember, the key steps involve:

- Conducting thorough research on models and prices.

- Inspect the car comprehensively, either by yourself or with a professional.

- Negotiating the price based on the car's condition and market value.

- Checking the vehicle's history for any red flags.

Armed with these tips, you’re better equipped to make a smart, budget-friendly purchase of cheap cars for sale Coffs Harbour that will serve you well. Happy hunting for that perfect, affordable ride!

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — tradition!dbf!SIDNEY CROSBY x reader wc — 3k synopsis — she's pretty when she pouts. even prettier when she cries.

note — while you don't necessarily have to, i highly recommend reading tradition before this, as they exist in the same universe. this semi-part two is from our feb slumber party!

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — strangely, a lot of angsty angst; sidney being... sidney (gracie's version); references to a past sexual encounter; not super descriptive smut (pretty tame for me ngl); panty sniffing teehee; voyeurism + f masturbation; kinda sorta exhibitionism/risky location; degradation/name-calling balanced out by some praise; orgasm control + denial, edging then overstim; dacryphila; cameo from two of my fav gentlemen ;)

A newly born fawn can stand within ten to twenty minutes of entering the world and is able to manage walking after several hours—albeit, rather ungracefully. With time, fawns do become more sure-footed and less likely to stumble or fall, usually experiencing pervasive wobbliness and frequent fatigue, which wanes over weeks. In the meantime, however, their weak limbs won't carry them very far. 

A few feet of grass and pavement would be doable. Uncoordinated and slow, though not impossible. 

But you are not a baby deer, regardless of how similar your strides may appear. A resemblance so uncanny that it's the first remark made by each and every party guest you pass on your trek up the driveway. 

Overdid yourself at the gym, you fib with the limp, "Don't worry about it," swipe of your hand through the warm evening air. Either too oblivious or intoxicated, not one bats an eye despite the mountain of evidence piled on your face—and dripping down your inner thighs.

The shameless, self-satisfied sound of Sidney Crosby's amusement slipping through his fingers—ones which still carry a suspiciously tart scent—isn't helping but is just as easily overlooked. 

As you stumble through the party, still bustling as ever, you begin to think he lied when he turned down your parents'—and his—street. When he said the punishment was over, that you'd earned his forgiveness. Just another empty promise strung together with hollow words from his silver tongue. 

He was enjoying your misery too much for it to be accidental. Sidney wasn't overly affectionate or even that warm of an individual. Charming and magnetic, but never sweet or sentimental. It was something you were still grappling with, still trying to make peace with. He wasn't a monster, just cooly indifferent.

Which is why a (stupid) part of you expected some small benevolence after you opened your legs for him—again. 

Like, for instance, returning your panties instead of pocketing them. Or, not making you mingle with half the town with your own shame sliding down past the hem of your skirt—what a concept! 

It could be worse. He did say he planned to hang them from the rearview mirror or stash them in his center console. The chances of someone accidentally stumbling upon the sullied snow-white cotton were significantly lower, with them balled in the back pocket of his well-loved denim, than either alternative. 

Sidney Crosby ruined your night and your mood, but worst of all, several orgasms. All because he didn't "appreciate" the silent treatment. 

Hypocrite. 

"Don't ignore me," said the man who flaked on your father's poker night. 

"Don't ignore me," said the man who hadn't bothered to call, despite going out of his way to ask your mother for your phone number—lead on a job, my ass. 

"Don't ignore me," said the man who brought a date to your parents' anniversary party, then scowled like someone shit in his Cheerios when an acquaintance of yours from high school wanted to walk down memory lane. 

"Don't ignore me," said the man who crashed your attempt to escape his punitive glare of disapproval. 

He was easy enough to ignore even if it was his car you were riding shotgun in. Plenty of buttons to busy yourself with and an endless array of distractions beyond the large tinted window. Sidney Crosby was little more than a gnat buzzing around your head. Unpleasant and obnoxious, but bearable. 

Until the kind, naïve cashier complimented the "adorable couple," and, naturally, asked how long they'd been together. An innocuous question to which the older man scoffed, and promptly corrected her outlandish assumption, leaving her apologetically rosy-cheeked. 

After setting the replenishment of bottles and cans in the backseat, you shut the Range Rover's door a bit too harshly. You weren't surprised to feel his displeasure boring into your temple as the engine hummed to life. 

In no mood for a lecture, you cut off whatever prim, self-righteous bullshit he had to say at the knees, "You're pissed I slammed the door, I'm pissed you were a dick to the teenager who doesn't get paid enough to deal with your awful lack of tact. We're even, alright?" 

"She speaks," was his astute, amused comeback. 

He put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot with his hand braced against your headrest. 

You couldn't stomach his inconsistent ambivalence a second longer. 

Hands thrown up in defeat, frustration burst from your mouth. "Why are you acting like I don't exist? As if...as if—" 

He waited for you to complete your thought, but it's one you'd never finish. You hardly allowed yourself to think it most nights. It shouldn't matter if you matter to him.

But the universe has a sick sense of humor. 

"You're... confusing. I don't—I don't get you." 

Sidney simply sighed, his eyes trained on the vacant road ahead. "You'll understand when you're older." 

"Jesus, what's next?" You couldn't help but snort at the cliché throwaway line. "What I was your age...?' or 'Back in my day...?' I am on the edge of my seat, Mr. Crosby." 

"Quit it. I'm in no mood to deal with your dramatics tonight, kid. I'm already at my limit with you." 

The feeling was very much mutual. 

"Make me." 

A horrible, mocking sound erupted from the driver's side that made you want to curl into yourself and never unravel. The only thing worse than being ghosted, it seemed, was the outright rebuff of your advances. 

For a long while, the only sound was the gentle, steady hum of the AC; Sidney wasn't a "radio person."

Eye-roll. You started to think you weren't a "Sidney person." 

After your fourth or fifth—you'd lost count by now—Sidney looked at you in his periphery. His coal-black stare made you giddy in a way that made you feel equally as silly.

You hated wanting him more than you could ever hate him. 

With an exaggerated sigh of his own, Sidney stuck out his hand. Palm up, directly over the center console. 

"What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" you spat, brows pinched in confusion. 

You felt his growl in your ribs, but that twinge was nothing when compared to what his subsequent command did to your mind and body. 

"Take off whatever excuse for undergarments you put on with in me in mind, and put them in my hand." 

Time froze, and so did you. 

"I won't ask again." 

You don't make him. 

You bunched your skirt up to the creases of your thighs without another peep, and your heart pounded so roughly in your ears that it made your vision blur and blacken around the edges. Nervous fingers trembled as they hooked into the delicate garment and pulled them down your thighs. As you lifted your rear, cold air flooded the intimate place, and you nearly lost your nerve. With the soft cotton stretched impatiently at your knees, your head whipped from side to side to scrutinize your surroundings. Then, with the coast as clear as it would ever be, you surrendered them.  

He chuckled at your paranoia, finding it oddly endearing, and continued to do so even after his prize was secured, bundled safely in his clutches.  

Mr. Crosby brought them to his face. He inhaled deeply, much to your chagrin, and he kept them squarely under his nose for three intersections in spite of your palpable embarrassment. There was more to blame your squirming on than just the chill of the air conditioning. 

"Can you... like, not?" you mumbled as you shrunk into the passenger seat, mortified. 

"What's the matter? Feeling shy?" He laughed into the creamy center of the fabric. 

You swear his tongue slipped out, but it was too dark to know for certain. Your body didn't need confirmation to tremble. Out of discomfort... or fear... 

Arousal? 

"—you weren't five seconds ago when you stripped in my front seat for anyone to see. Or when you let me fuck you with your father on the other side of the door. Me, his best friend. But that's where you draw the line?" 

You, quiet as a mouse, shifted uncomfortably on the cool leather until your gaze couldn't leave the neighborhoods blurring together beyond the dark glass. 

Sidney Crosby wasn't the most delicate with emotions, but this was cruel even for him. You know he can see right through you, and to leverage your... whatever you feel just to belittle you for his own amusement wasn't something you thought to worry about. It wasn't a possibility you considered, but maybe you should've. 

You don't turn at the sound of your name, but you do hum in acknowledgment. 

"I'm not poking fun at you, kid, I promise." 

The sincerity in his low timbre tugged on your heartstrings, and soon, your eyes were back on the opposite side of the SUV. 

He wasn't looking at you, but his attention never split or wavered. "I asked you to do that because I'd been thinking about you—and the way your sweet pussy smelled—since Christmas. Five fucking months... tormented by the memory. I apologize if I took it too far." 

Some emotion, one you could not bear to label, bubbled up your throat as you chewed on his words. Fearful you might be eclipsed by a shadow of doubt, you shoved it right the hell down in favor of your preferred fall-back. 

"Make it up to me?" 

You knew you were offering yourself up on a silver platter. And you did feel unsure about it—the action, the potential consequences, and the plethora of ways you would, more than likely, be hurt. However, when regret crept in, belated and benign, it hadn't mattered. 

"Tempting. Later—if you behave. Right now, I want to watch." 

Your stupid, malleable heart flipped over a cracked door.

Throat clenched, you gulped. "What about... Shouldn't you focus, I don't know, on not killing us?" 

"Shouldn't you focus on the ache between those pretty thighs?" 

One light change. From green to yellow and finally, red—that was all the time you required to heed Sidney's sardonic counsel and cave to your body's needs. That was how quickly you wound up with one knee hiked up and bent, resting against the soft material of the center console. Your eagerness displayed proudly, glittering as it caught in the streetlights that lead back toward reality. 

Sidney Crosby had you halfway to spread-eagle in the passenger seat of a moving vehicle with your hands up the skirt he wanted to burn—and he refused to let you cum. 

Every time you got close, he made you stop. A few times, he even barred you from touching yourself anywhere at all. He would coach you to the brink, pushing you closer and closer each time, but Sidney always stopped you short of the finish line. He repeated this pain-pleasure torture until you were sobbing at his side, a smirk splayed wide across the lower half of his otherwise stoic face. 

"What's wrong?" He asked as if he cared. 

"It's not—I need... I-I need more—need you." 

You hardly recognized your own voice. Too pitchy and distant, you wouldn't have, if not for the way the words scratched your delicate throat as they came up. You choked on your own salty tears. 

He liked making you cry a little more than could be considered healthy. But what he liked even more was how, even with the ability to take pleasure at your own hand, you wouldn't. You couldn't. You needed him—his approval, his permission, his touch. You were useless without him. 

"Tough shit, slut," Sidney replied. 

Free of malice, you would've considered the name affectionate—an endearment, almost—if it came from anyone else. 

"You get what you deserve, and you haven't earned my fingers, let alone my cock. I'm damn sure of it." 

You made a wet, woeful sound that almost made him pity you. Almost. If he hadn't been driving, he might have given in just to squeeze out more pathetic whimpers. 

He was glad to have resisted the urge in the deserted parking lot to bend you over the hood of his car, and he was proud of himself for not jerking the car onto the shoulder to take you in the backseat. Sidney's resolve had dwindled significantly as the drive dragged on, chipped away by your sad eyes and even sadder sounds and the guilt he couldn't stifle. 

Sidney couldn't give you what you wanted, but he could provide a substitute. A poor one, by both your standards, but you'd make do. 

"Alright, alright. Quit your whining. If you want to cum tonight, you'll do the work yourself. Go on, big girl, you wanted to be grown so badly. Take care of the problem like a grown-up." 

You listened, and you stumbled over the edge almost instantly. 

Your fingers were desperate to make the best of a bad situation. A mixed bag, in reality, one you won't bother to sort through until it's unavoidable. And, before long, you were writhing into your own touch, imagining it was his instead like you have every night since he had you in the bathroom at your parents' holiday party. 

Until headlights flashed, bright and commanding like the alarms that failed to sound in your head whenever Sidney Crosby was involved. Three fingers remained knuckle-deep when your body, still reeling from your latest peak, seized up in fear.  

"Did I tell you to stop?" came his strict, no-nonsense censure. 

Your head wagged; he knew your answer without needing to look. 

He offers you the hand that took your panties from you. This time, though, you didn't need further instruction. As you suckled, his thumb massaged your warm tongue. 

"Stop thinking. You don't have to worry about anything ’sides fucking your fingers the way you'd fuck mine, and sucking my thumb the way I know you'd suck my cock." 

When he pulled to a stop at the red light, he took full advantage of the momentary reprieve. Sidney leaned so close, the heat of his lips pressed to your skin without ever truly touching you. It was pure maddens, but his words were worse: "—maybe I'll let you. If you're a good little girl and prove, you're worthy of the honor." 

Tears streamed down your hot cheeks. The salty, silvery rivers glistened in the passing lights of house lights and other cars. Sidney's fingers twitched against the wheel as they resisted the urge to scoop them up and suck them down. 

What a waste. 

His thumb slipped from your mouth as your grip on his wrist and forearm slackened. Sidney braced himself for whatever trivial complaint you meant to voice this time. 

"But... but I—fuck... N-No more... can't—can't do it, can't do another one. P-Please—don't m-make me..." 

If he hadn't been so irritated, he would have found your garbled, sputtering mess of a plea humorous. Instead, he felt it was an inconvenience. Sidney did not understand why you were behaving like an insolent brat when you getting the attention you tugged his sleeve for. 

"First, you beg for it, and now you're whining to stop. Which is it? Make up your mind and use your big girl words." 

You did. 

And you're still wearing the product of your repeated efforts nearly an hour later, your head as fuzzy as ever. Several times, your spaciness has been commented on or lightly joked about, but you lack the energy to give a shit. You're too out of it to even muster up annoyance. 

Deciding to call it a night, you quietly slip away from your parents. They're too wrapped up in playing gracious hosts to notice, accepting overpriced, useless gifts and congratulations like it's their full-time jobs. 

On the way to your bedroom, you're intercepted. 

"There she is, Miss Master's Degree! How've you been, honey? Keeping out of trouble?" 

You allow yourself to be scooped up by the younger of the two brothers huddled in a corner of the family room, and a genuine smile isn't difficult to find. 

"Knock it off, Tommy," Mr. Miller chides after your feet have been returned to the ground. "You of all people should know how, and I quote, fucking lame the Adult World is. I'd be more concerned about her dying of boredom than getting into any trouble." 

"Oh, don't worry. I've found ways to amuse myself," you reply with an easy laugh. 

Neither catches the innuendo, but it reaches the intended audience. 

Hearing the familiar grumble of ire, you politely excuse yourself. "I am so sorry, but I need to lie down. My head is killing me." 

Mr. Miller's warm brown eyes glisten with paternal sympathy. He rubs between your shoulder blades. "Of course, sweetheart. You've had a crazy last couple of months. Stop by when you're feeling better, okay? Sarah and Ellie miss their favorite babysitter." 

You smile and nod an affirmative before stepping away. 

Your spot between the brothers is swiftly filled by two of their endless admirers, eager to chat up the introverted widower with two pre-teen daughters and his flirtatious veteran of a younger brother. You don't blame them. They were as easy on the eyes as they were to talk to, and, in a world of boys, two southern gentlemen were a rare commodity. A hot one, too. 

The younger Miller wouldn't have caused any brows to rise if you brought him to Thanksgiving. 

With your hand coasting over the banister, you find yourself wishing it were Tommy—or even Mr. Miller, you couldn't get off your mind instead of... 

Shaking your head, you trot up the stairs, slipping into the darkness without a second glance. You weren't kidding about the migraine. 

He waits fifteen minutes before disappearing into the same shadows. 

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All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[asoulofatlantis]

We can literally have it all in an NG+ Game. If that isn’t a reason to replay it, then I don’t know what is XD

The fact the game keeps reminding you constantly though the first few hours that Olivert is supposedly that is extremely depressing the first time you play it and its extremely annoying whenever you replay it.

One of Trails biggest Issues for western-players is that it often assumes automatically that you had access to Audio-Dramas, Mangas and other special stuff they did for the series. So they assume that you know the gist of how Toval has met with Estelle and Joshua at some point, although it happened in a Manga, they also mention class 7 having holidays in Ymir which was an Audio drama. Alster also is part of a story from a different Medium (I think also an Audio-Drama) which gets just briefly mentioned in CS3 but when you get to CS4, they assume you do know who Kai and Tilia are and how our people actually come to know them. Which is a huge ass problem point when you play CS4, because its not super easy to get access to those extras, especially not in a language you can understand. And as the issue of not knowing these characters or what exactly they have to do with ours did not resolve itself by playing this game, this is yet another point for reasons not to replay this game.

While it looks like that in fact all opposing fractions are taking into a “hostage” - kind of situation, if you look closer, were they were and who they were surrounded with actually kept them protected. We know that Machias father was put in a tough spot, but with all the Military watching him, he was definitely saver then most other citizens of Erebonia. And that was most likely because Osborne knew that when all this was over, this man would be needed. Noticing stuff like that is one of the reason to replay this game.

Its absolutely dumb that she calls him “Instructor Makarov” they are in love for ages now! But as this could easily be a translation mistake, I guess we don’t have to be so harsh o say that is a reason not to replay the game, it also is just a small detail that can be overlooked I guess. So... lets just ignore this.

Fun fact about Falcom is: Apparently certain characters breast sizes grow with every game XD I am not really joking here, look at how big Rixias breasts are in Kuro compared to their size in the Crossbell-Arc. Shirley - tho she was allowed some growing still at this point - pointed out in a certain very infamous scene in Azure, that she likes woman/girls with big breasts because she is flat as a board. She does not have a great breast size compared to certain other characters in the game, but with that school Uniform (which she is rocking by the way, because those colors just complement her immensely) even Shirleys smaller chest size looks bigger, thanks to those weird positioned straps. And on that note, looking at the Eyecandy that Shirley provides in this outfit is one of the reasons to replay this game. (And yes, I am very much aware that I said the same about Cedric back in CS3. I guess their hair colors just go well with the overall colors of the school Uniform...)

Guess that means when “princey boy” is not around she can’t have much fun, huh? XD Seriously tho, it is pretty much foreshadowing of Shirleys role in this game. Because to keep Cedric on a least, Shirley herself has to put herself in timeout so to not edge him on and to actually be able to focus more on him then on what she would usually focus on. Also, if you see this scene, you would assume that she is going crazy as per usual, not having to deal with her borderline insaneness was quite a surprise back when I played this game for the first time. Anyway, reasons to replay this game is to look at how Shirleys and Cedrics relationship is always presented between the lines. Think about it. When they were at the Gral they didn’t even so much as looked at each other, all we got was the little “Not my type” out of context comment with an absolutely bad timing and thats been it. This plays roughly two weeks later and we have already established a nickname. Now with Shirley we have to consider two things. She is an Orlando, Randy mad it clear that all people he finds cute/endearing get a nickname of some sort. (Something that Juna kind of adapted it seems...) So this nickname-giving is a family-trait it seems, but seems to only go for people they find cute. HOWEVER, this is Shirley we are talking about. In her nicknames you seem to be able to always find some way of mockery. So Randolph end ob being Dolphy, which is pretty much sounding like a cute, harmless Dolphin,  obviously a mockery for the man who was actually called the red reaper once. (And not even so far off, given that Randys reaper times are over and he is a big old softie now...) Now with Cedric, it would have been easy enough to turn his name into Ceddi or something (which would have annoyed him enough for sure) but Shirley chose princey boy instead. I mentioned that before in some asks I got, but the mockery behind this is easy to grasp. with “princey” she mocks his title. As you will see in their interactions later in the game, Shirley doesn’t give a damn about titles. And what is a prince anyway? Nothing compared to an Emperor. And the “boy” is pretty much mocking him by telling him she sees him as a boy, not a man. Trampling on his damn Erebonian Crown Prince pride as a woman that is actually stronger then him, to top it off. Obviously, the fact that she calls him by his nickname even when he is not around, shows that this is as much endearing as it is mockery, but the point still stands. (And going all out, analyzing the hell out of this ship is one of the most important reasons to replay this game, I tell you XD)

I honestly felt like most of the ships for our Old class 7 boys came kinda out of nowhere... but I guess given that this was supposed to be their last game and was supposed to give them their happy ending, there was no time like the present. However, it is still a bit annoying to notice, now that you have (since it is a replay) to notice such things. So not exactly a good reason to replay the game.

One of the weakest points of the Crossbell-Saga is that you miss out on A LOT of important stuff, if you don’t do certain side- oder hidden missions. For example, I never met Xin before CS4 so I never knew who he was and why he was so taken with Elie. Its kind of frustrating. Then again, the whole Crossbell-thing was kind of frustrating for most of the Western-Fandom until recently. Since that issue can be taken care of by now... I guess we do not say it is a point not to replay the game. Rather, AFTER you cleared the Crossbell-Saga, with all the Sidemissions, it might make even more sense to replay this game. Xin aside, there are a lot of things in CS3 and CS4 that feel different after you finish the Crossbell-Saga. And I guess even more so, if you do all the side- and hidden missions.

Cao is one of the most frustrating but also most intriguing characters that the Trails-Saga has produced. He switches sides whenever he feels like it and often in a way and with a timing you can not foresee even if you know that he is like that. And if you think he is a problem here, wait till you see him in Riveri and if you think you have figured him out by then, watch him break Ashens heart in Kuro2 despite the fact that he does care about her - or does he? You never know with him. And it is fun to see him again, doing what he is usually doing, after actually seeing what he pulls in future games. So certainly a reason to replay this game.

Compared to Erebonia, Crossbell provides all their harem-girls with an alternative partner. We easily have Wazy for Noel, Ilya obviously for Rixia and our “freckled boy” here could easily go as Tios second choice. Some people might want to argue that, as he is in Riveri quite happy to see her reunion with Lloyd but its not like Wazy was jealous about the way Noel saved Lloyd and we still have the game put them together constantly, including in the epilogue of this very game. In any case, having Jonah be all like “I am not worried about Tio being missing!” is really adorable to watch, so a nice reason to replay the game for once.

Obviously this whole mess was painful enough as it was, but I always found it regretful, especially after Olivert and Toval specifically mentioning the woman they loved before their untimely “death” that we didn’t get to see Sheras and Eiens reactions. I mean Shera was right in Heimdall, seeing it live, so there would have been an easy enough possibility. And it would have been kind of nice, like, before the Credits role, to actually see how Eien was informed about Tovals death. I mean, the woman is tough as Iron, but seeing her act all “Oh well, can’t be changed” infront of whoever was the messenger and then actually start to cry why smoking a cigerret and opening a bottle of wine would have been nice to seed. But I guess that is the shipper inside of me who wants more then she bargained for XD In any case, this game finally giving us Shera and her feelings and reactions about Oliverts death is always a good reason to replay this game. (Tho this game really is pulling out all the painful stuff when it comes to shippings XD)

The fact that when I think of the beginning of the game I never remember dealing with them before anything else, because I am so focused on being frustrated about having to deal with New class sevens overgrown ego without even having Rean as a compensation ^^’ And when I reach this point I am always like: “Oh. Right. I have to deal with them first.” But it is really nice to see and play those guys again. Definitely a good reason to replay CS4.

The fact that you have to wonder if they too will be offered a promotion to S-Rank eventually and will also not accepted it, like many Bracers seem to do these days. I mean, at the point of Kuro 2 they should have long reached the S-Rank-Level, given their abilities and experience and all that. But I guess we deal with that question in another game. Still, an interesting reminder of their current Rank is never a bad reason to replay this game. We have Renne in Kuro 2 after all, so its not impossible to see those guys again eventually.

[greentrickster]

Hey, guess what, though I have been long silent on this topic it never went away. I’m still working on this. Cobra Commander has just regained humanoid form and is having to deal with the fact that, while a snake, he once stuck his head on Duke’s lap and demanded pets for two hours. Life is good.

You ever encounter a character and go, “I want to redeem you. Not because you deserve it in any way, not because it would make another character who cares about you happy, but because you would hate it so much and it would be so entertaining for me, personally, to watch you hissy fit your way down the road to redemption.”

[lunarticxenia]

Moon Signs Pt. 2

Hi guys here’s part 2 of the moon sign series! After I post this, I’m going to be focusing more on answering your questions, I have a lot to answer. Thanks so much for all the support! Without further ado, here’s Libra through Pisces moons! 

🌵Libra Moon: You guys LOVE attention, and you don’t even try to hide it LMAO. One of my good friends is a Libra moon and he literally loves to say outlandish things just to get a reaction from us and to get attention from us if we’re not talking to him enough in a conversation. Libra moons also love relationships and if underdeveloped they may feel incomplete without one. They can also be very dependent on their partner for happiness as well. However, they are romantic and in love with love. They’re also extremely sensitive and are very feminine. Even in men, it gives them a more feminine touch to their personality. They also hold their morals in very high regard. They have their set morals and won’t change them for anything or anyone. They also tend to hate conflict and usually shy away from confrontation. They’re also too nice, WAYYYYYY too nice. You guys need to be more assertive LMAO. They’re also extremely optimistic and if they don’t believe in that particular way they at least try to be optimistic with others. They’re always reminding you the glass is half full. Also, Libra moons are mad clingy. Even with those they’re not dating LMAO. My Libra moon friend whenever I try to leave the FaceTime Call, he’s like “Don’t go... :(”. They just love to be around the ones they love. They’re also in love with beauty, and all things beautiful in the world. They’re lovers of music, art, film, and literature. Libra moons also have a softness in their eyes, I can’t describe it. This girl I used to like has a Libra moon and her eyes were just so soft. They’re also extremely indecisive, they tend to flip flop between who they wanna be and what they wanna do. They also aren’t shy when it comes to compliments, they will compliment TF out of you. They’re the best hype man. They also put others before themselves a lot, and can be very shy upon first meeting them. However once they feel comfortable around you they open up. One last thing, I feel like they tend to like anyone who’s nice to them...don’t attack me. LMAO.  

🌵Scorpio Moon: I feel like Scorpio moons have about ten different playlists relating to their emotions and still won’t open up to anyone about how they feel. Scorpio moons I feel have such intense emotions that they just don’t deal with them and they tend to implode after a while. I relate to them a lot in that respect tbh with my Sun square Moon, because that’s how I am. You guys are also super passionate and super creative. Every Scorpio moon I’ve met has been really creative in some way whether it be makeup, fashion style, or artwork. I’ve also noticed that this is a very alluring placement, there’s this intriguing way about them, and like Aries Moons, they have a fire in their eyes. Their gaze is INTENSE. They’re also very selective with who they let close to them, they don’t let just anybody in. They’re also very good at reading other people and seeing people’s true intentions. They have an extremely good intuition. If underdeveloped this can be used to manipulate other people, as well as being compulsive liars. Scorpio moons are also very protective over the ones they love. If you mess with anyone they care about, they will kill you. End of story. Also I feel like every Scorpio moon I’ve met has been through the wringer, like they’ve really had some hard experiences, it’s so sad to me. Scorpio moons are also extremely stubborn, remember this is a fixed sign. Scorpio moons ain’t playing, once they’ve settled on something, they’re not budging. Also, can we just say, masters at investigating people. These are the friends you want stalking your ex’s social media. They will find out everything. They’re also really good psychologists as well, almost all the Scorpio moons I’ve met are actually Psychology majors LMAO. They’re very good at finding the root causes of people’s issues. I also feel like Scorpio moons undergo a lot of transformations in their lives. I’ve known a Scorpio moon for about 10 years now and he’s undergone so many different transformations in his life. Mentally and physically. They’re also extremely sarcastic and have a tendency to be pessimistic. They’re also mad scary when angry. I’ve seen them angry before, as an Aries moon, even I get a little scared.... love y’all tho. 

🌵Sagittarius Moon: The funniest people ever. Sagittarius moons always have me laughing my ass off. Their sense of humor is very diverse. They tend to stick with sarcasm and like to say outlandish things to make people laugh. Also, I feel like Sagittarius moons tend to go for science/math oriented careers or at least have an interest in those subjects. I know four Sag moons, and they’re all in STEM it’s actually crazy. They’re also extremely blunt and honest, especially when it comes to people they don’t like LMAO. They make it very clear when they don’t like someone, it’s so funny. They’re also just so much fun, like they’re genuinely so much fun to hang out with. I feel like I’ve never not had a good time hanging out with a Sagittarius moon. I feel like Sag moons however tend to struggle with asserting themselves a lot of times, until they get really fed up.  They’re very much go with the flow kinda people, and this can be to their detriment especially with the ones they love, they don’t wanna rock the boat. However, they also make really good mediators and are good at settling arguments. They also really like to travel, and likely have traveled a lot. All the Sagittarius moons I know have traveled to at least 4+ countries. They love traveling the world, and I’ve also noticed move or want to move far away from their childhood home. They wanna explore everything the world has to offer. My cousin who’s a Sag moon left her parents’ house to move a few states away and my other friend who’s a Sag moon wants to move to the other side of the country. These individuals also tend to like foreign culture as well. I’ve noticed Sagittarius moons tend to like foreign music or foreign tv shows. I feel like they also tend to ignore their emotions when they get sad and just don’t like to deal with their emotions. They also don’t like to talk about how they feel and will brush sad things off because it’s just too upsetting for them. However, once the emotions boil over, just like their anger, they will blow up LMAO. I’ve also noticed that they’re really good at teaching people things? Like my Sag moon friend explained this Chemistry equation to me I couldn’t understand and I got it after 10 minutes. Natural teachers. 

🌵 Capricorn Moon: Guys, it’s okay to open up. You don’t have to pretend to be so strong all the time, you’re not weak for showing your emotions. Anyway, Cap moons have high expectations for people, and will not tolerate any bs from people. I seriously commend them for that. I feel like Cap moons struggle with how their points are being expressed, they can say one thing, but it’s seen as something else. While Capricorn moons may struggle with expressing their emotions, I haven’t found them to be closed off or cold when meeting them. Every Capricorn moon I’ve met has warmed up to me very quickly and have been super nice. I feel like they’re very friendly and once they have a conversation with you they’re really warm and kind. Also, they’re not afraid of anything?? Except for showing their feelings maybe. But like, they’re so open to trying new things like scary rollercoasters and aren’t afraid to fight for themselves if they have to. Also, super fucking ambitious. I wish I could be ambitious. These people will really have like three jobs, be in school, and tend to household responsibilities. I don’t know how you guys do it. Now everyone says Capricorn moons are just analytical and systematic when confronted with conflict, and I personally haven’t found that to be true. If they feel wronged?? Nah. They’re not going to be systematic or logical or anything. They will go off. As for personal challenges, yes they’ll be more analytical. But I feel like everyone boils down Cap moons to emotionless and machine-like nerds, which I find to be very untrue. Capricorn moons are very soft once they’re vulnerable with you, and genuinely feel like they’re bothering people when they show their emotions and feel weak for showing them. Also I’ve noticed that their mom is a big motivator for their success. Their moms always push them to do their best in work and school. If poorly aspected, they could feel too pressured by their moms to do well. Also, they’re so underrated for being funny. They have a really dry sense of humor and it’s well developed. I also feel like they get overlooked for putting others before themselves, when it comes to the people they love they’ll do anything for them. Brb gonna go give my Cap moon friends a hug. 

🌵Aquarius Moon: You guys are just so unique. There’s something unique about each and every Aquarius moon, whether it’s a quirk or a hobby. These people are literally the best to talk to. It’s so easy to have a conversation with them, they really can talk about anything. I’ve also noticed that Aquarius moons tend to be interested in astrology and tarot and things of that kind. Every Aquarius moon I’ve met has been really interested in it, and even involved in it. I feel like they also have big dreams, and have big plans for themselves. Aquarius moons also love to get lost in their music and tend to use it as an escape. This can be a problem because they tend to avoid dealing with their feelings. They also go between reacting to things really heavily vs not reacting at all. It just seems like it goes back and forth. They speak up with things are unjust however only to their friends or online. They just don’t like to deal with face to face conflict in that regard. They also give really great advice. My best friend is an Aquarius moon and she always gives me the best advice. She knows me better than I know myself tbh. I feel like Aquarius moons relish in being unique LMAO. I’m 99% sure they had an “I’m not like other girls” phase. I feel like this placement always tends to space out and daydream a lot. They also aren’t the types to just lash out at people, their anger is more subtle (unless they have other placements of course). I feel like Aquarius moons also have a lot of friends but they tend to have a small group of friends that they tend to be super super close with. They’re also...really charming? I don’t know what it is, but like every single one I’ve met has been really charming and likable. They also have a really goofy sense of humor and love to do wild shit to make people laugh. I feel like some downsides of Aquarius moons are that they tend to be too analytical and rationalize things too much, and they inadvertently invalidate other people’s feelings. Aquarius moons are also super open minded to all opinions. I have a friend who I tend to disagree with on certain issues but they’ve always been open to hearing my opinion. They also love to travel too. I’ve noticed that as well. 

🌵Pisces Moon: To think, I was almost one of you guys. No seriously I almost was, if I were born four hours earlier I would’ve been a Pisces moon LMAO. Anyhoo, Pisces moons are just so sweet. I don’t know how else to start, they literally are the sweetest people and give off this mystical type of aura. They’re very otherworldly. Also, these people daydream 24/7. They put Aquarius moons to shame in daydreaming. This girl I like is a Pisces moon and I always catch her daydreaming LMAO. They’re also extremely sensitive too and feel things so deeply. They try to hide how they feel from people, but you can see it in their eyes. I can always tell when my Pisces moon friend is upset just by the look in her eyes. They also tend to be introverted and it takes a while for them to warm up to someone. My co-worker is a Pisces moon and it took 2 weeks for her to finally start talking to me LMAO. They also have really vivid and wild dreams too. I feel like my Pisces moon friend is always telling me about some wild dream they had like that they were in a castle or in an ocean. They also can be really moody, they can be fine one second and then get really sad out of nowhere. Their emotions are like the ocean. I feel like another downside of Pisces Moons are that they can be very manipulative however this is really with any underdeveloped water moon/sun placement. I also feel like they tend to be escapists a lot. They don’t like to deal with reality a lot, and they see the best in everything and everyone even if it’s to their demise. They’re also super friendly and are nice to everyone they meet, even if they’re reserved they’re still very sweet. They’re also extremely creative too, I feel like every Pisces moon I’ve ever met has some sort of creative hobby. My co-worker who’s a Pisces moon is working on becoming a photographer and her stuff is AMAZING. I think that’s because they see the best in the world and the beauty in everything; and they know how to show that in their work so others can see the world like they do. They’re also super empathetic and are really good listeners. You can talk to them about anything and feel understood. :) 

So this wraps up my moon sign series! I hope you guys liked it! Again, don’t take offense these are just my opinions on each moon sign! Hope you guys enjoyed, and if you don’t see your moon sign here it’s likely in part one. 

[raspberriesandadventures]

Hi can I request some family headcanons with formaggio ?

Hey! Super sorry but I admit I didn't quite know what kind of family headcanons you were requesting so I did what I think their family would have been like when they were growing up. If I misunderstood, I really do apologise but I hope you enjoy never the less!

(I also did everybody instead of just Formaggio because it seemed like so much fun)

This doesn't much detail how they came to join Passione - I have headcanons surrounding that but it didn't really relate to their families so I just brushed over it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

La Squadra Childhood Headcanons

Risotto

Risotto is unlikely to have been an only child – he comes off as one of many, a forgotten middle-child who was often overlooked by busy parents.

So infrequently did he see his parents when he was younger, he knew precious little about them and they encountered a similar problem of forgetting facts about him.

Any child passed around from caretaker to caretaker is likely to feel very lonely and unwanted, even if this isn’t the intention.

His knowledge of Passione began before the death of his cousin. A sibling’s involvement that became a path forward once the crisis occurred.

He doesn’t see his family anymore. There are too many aspects of his life that he is unwilling to expose them to, even if some may deserve it.

Formaggio

Formaggio gives the impression of one of three or maybe four siblings. Tight-knit and unwavering in their loyalty but with a hint of cruelty that comes from jealousy.

His parents cared but they were older and forced to work very hard to keep the family lifestyle. They had little energy to spend on keeping children in line.

Picked on by his siblings, it was easy for him to turn such behaviour onto those smaller than him for a time.

Passione took him very far away from the values his family held. Bullying was hardly murder and he feels a guilt for how far he has strayed from their teachings.

He sees them occasionally – meets up with their partners and visits their children – but he never gets close enough to allow a true attachment to form.

Illuso

Illuso reads like an only child who was isolated from the world and so grew up constantly envious and weary of others.

Parents with high expectations and high achievements of their own can place too much stress on even the strongest of child.

A heavy hand breeds resentment in its purest form – a desire to lash out in as many ways as possible and inflict the same cruelties onto others who cross his path.

Passione was a simple rebellion, a way to take control of a life otherwise lost to the whims of others, but now it has dragged him too far in.

He torments himself by visiting, both in person and through the mirror world. It’s a cruelty to himself to listen to their words but one he chooses often.

Prosciutto

Prosciutto showcases a personality resembling the youngest of a set of perhaps three – perhaps a considerable late-comer in the family.

It’s difficult for parents who have already gone through children to show as much interest in a new one. If not ignored, then sometimes even unwanted.

He often felt as though nothing he said had much of a meaning at all. It was all-too easy to take on the idea of being a simple accident.

Passione offered him a chance at recognition when he was floundering for any acknowledgement. He could so easily dedicate himself to it for this reason.

He doesn’t speak to any of his family. He’s placed that life far behind him and has no particular desire to reopen any old wounds.

Pesci

Pesci seems to be an only child or perhaps part of a set of twins though certainly not the favourite of blunt parents.

His parents were far from intentional with their insults. They meant the best though truly played into the phrase of lining a road to hell with good intentions.

Inadequacy from a familial side and judgement from friends was a bad combination for his self-esteem, no matter how much he attempted to convince himself otherwise.

Passione wasn’t an intentional path away from those feelings, it was simply the one that presented itself first and the one he took.

Under the advice of many, he no longer speaks to his family. He’s not even sure about what the true reason in his heart is but it’s what he’s chosen.

Melone

Melone appears to have been one of two, probably the younger, but he’s unlikely to have had a close relationship with any sibling.

Parents that were gone for hours at a time with little care to provide a guardian leads to children getting into all kinds of trouble, frequently dictated by the eldest.

A lack of guidance aside from a wayward sibling resulted in a personality defined by extremes, focused on knowledge from the sources that surrounded him.

It was simple to find Passione when he stumbled in life, unable to fall back on a selfish sibling or missing parents.

He’s not willing to speak about them – not even if asked directly will their names or information grace his lips. They have long since died in his heart.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio is another that feels as though he’s a lone child, surrounded by loud voices and sharp words his entire life.

When both parents are quick to anger, it’s easy to learn that volume is what defines winning an argument – whether you’re right or wrong.

He went through much of his younger life fueled by a determination to spite others. Being stronger and better means that the other person can’t say anything about you.

Passione wasn’t meant to be anything more than proof that nobody could tell him what and what not to do. He didn’t mean to get pulled so deep in.

He tried, when he first joined Passione, to reconnect with the life he once had but quickly decided it was no longer worth his time.

Sorbet

Sorbet comes off as an only child though not the type that was doted on by loving parents or spoken to with a soft voice.

There was no cruelty in the direct sense but there was no affection either. A family that went through life as though the others were household objects.

Any attempts at lashing out, pleas for attention or guidance, all were ignored in favour of a constant push towards being mature.

Passione was the end result of a rapid downhill slope – not a goal but rather a result of poor choices nobody advised him away from.

He’s occasionally in a state of turmoil about his past relationships. He doesn’t want to recreate them though he fears he has lost something irreplaceable in their removal.

Gelato

Gelato must have been part of a larger family, the eldest who resented how strict parents grow softer with later kids.

Tight rules only serve to strain a wild spirit. Parents that try to control something too energetic only serve to make it grow stronger and dangerous.

He destroyed his relationships with his siblings by himself – tired of the affection they received that he hadn’t. It’s something he truly despises about himself.

Passione had seemed a fun way to enjoy his life once he finally managed to break free of the hold his parents had on him. It wasn’t anything like he thought.

He doesn’t want to speak with his siblings but he watches occasionally to make sure they’re doing better than he is. It’s a connection he can’t shake.

[dragoncityinteriordesign]

[This post has been sitting half-done in my Drafts for a long time, because I keep hoping that I’m going to find something more about these images, and then I just keep not being able to. If you recognize any of them, please tell me!]

It’s very hard to identify the framed works on Shen Wei’s walls, mostly because a) they’re small, and b) we never get good closeups on any of them. After a lot of squinting, here’s my best take on them.

Let’s start with the easy one: The large framed print back in the little nook is a reproduction of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne and Saint John the Baptist, a 16th-century charcoal. This is the only piece that seems to match the Renaissance theme going on in the DCU hallways. Ignore the part where all this art confirms the existence of Christianity in the Guardian universe. The theological implications are staggering.

The wall opposite that has a lot of what appear to be certificates and diplomas that somebody familiar with Chinese higher education could probably make sense of, but that someone is not me. Look, I know trying to make sense of the Guardian timeline is a fool’s errand, but I still have to wonder how Shen Wei got all of those. He had to go through some schooling, right? Even if you have a super-absorbant brain, one does not simply pop out of the ground after 9,997 years ready to lecture on genetics at a university level. And he and the Nice Doctor are supposed to be college buddies, so unless she’s lying, he actually knuckled down and earned a couple letters after his name. I’m suspecting he magically fudged the undergraduate credentials, but calling him 沈教授 somewhat implies he’s a full professor with a Ph.D. I’m sure one of those framed certificates is praise for his groundbreaking dissertation on having there is a monster in the wo.

...Also, there’s a convenient great big blank spot right above the fish tank! Almost like it was waiting for an embarrassing spy-banner-slash-love-note!

The wall opposite the door has four images, none of which are very clear. The one all the way to the left looks like some kind of cloud formation, with a row of people all along the bottom looking up at it and either raising their fists or pointing. The next one over, the largest, looks to be an old man and a young child, both squatting on the ground and looking upward. There’s a much smaller one next to that, and that one may be two children standing in front of a group of adults. Finally, there’s a long image of something I can’t even start to identify, lines of what looks like lumps of contoured, colored ... sand? clouds? And is that a little owl perched at the bottom of the frame? Tell you what, that’s the one that’s been driving me up the wall, because I can’t even begin to tell what I’m looking at.

Finally, there’s the wall by the door. Some of them look like they might be by the same photographer, but they don’t look like they’re all by the same photographer. The cafe with the red seats has a lot of similar pieces hanging on its walls. Left to right, the images look like: at least one person standing on a street corner under a streetlight; a set of developed islands surrounded by canals, two of which are connected by a bridge; a person seated at a table, either looking at themselves in a wall-length mirror or looking at someone else through a doorway; a sky-perspective view of tall buildings; several balconies overlooking a courtyard, taken from the middle one of the balconies; a young boy on a smoky street with an old-fashioned car behind him; a person alone on a street, maybe in the rain; a man carrying rice seedlings for planting; and a seated, smiling person peeking out from behind a pillar.

I assume every art choice here (except maybe the certificates) is 100% a case of, we had a blank wall, so we grabbed the nearest framed objects we could find. But it’s kind of nice imagining these being deliberate choices on Shen Wei’s part, with no overarching theme in mind. He has no idea what’s “supposed” to go up in an office like this, but he knows what he likes.

[birthdaycakeplate]

Hi there, hope you're doing well! Let me start by saying I love your art, your style is super cute! Your writing is also amazing, it's so well written and always a joy to read! The art and fic you made of Optimus in a polyship with Megatron, Strika and Lugnut is something I never would've thought about but it's super cute and sexy and you've got me hooked. I'd love to see more, fics or art is totally up to you!

💕Zombie LISTEN, I didn’t know which ship you like the most, so I threw my two main ships at you at once 😭😭

This is Blitzbee/Megop with the ‘Cons being accidentally very soft and making the ‘Bot boys emotional for it. I would sum this up as, ‘crack treated seriously’.

You made me so emotional with your message zombie 🥺 like what a compliment?!! Thank you, you’re so dang sweet😞

This is the longest thing I’ve made on here, so everyone *please* be prepared when you click that ‘read more’ down there. It’s 33,200+ words, so I broke it into ✨2 parts✨

💕Warnings are in the tags💕

(Canon is skewed all to slag, and is set during ??????? in the timeline.)

——- ————- ——

Terrorizing the locals was just a bonus and not necessarily Blitzwing’s end goal. The organics were easy to ignore -would be easy enough to squish, if they ever got under pede one day. Quite beneath his notice.

True, he did delight in the distant screams below, as the humans ran for cover, scattering like ants. There was a certain appeal to being the most powerful, impenetrable force around. Particularly when there was a mech like Megatron to come ‘home’ to an the end of each cycle, and be forced to remember where exactly you were on the food chain.

Thrill or not, it was all very unremarkable when there were greater things at stake than scaring a handful of blithering gnats. It wasn’t like it was some kind of chore to put the fear of Primus in the little things and anything but a challenge.

He’d hardly noticed all the times he’d flattened a car -or 12- while walking through the city at rush hour.

He hadn’t noticed when a wing tip had sliced through an office building on a fourth floor once, either.

All very commonplace for a mecha of his size and stature. All very easy to overlook.

But this time was.... different....

Leaking Energon from a lateral line in his thigh, Blitzwing was searching every dark alleyway for the little bug bot that’d gone and stung him good enough to sever it. He’d been caught off guard long enough for the minibot to bolt for cover. Of course, he wasn’t fairing much better either after a blast of ice to his center chassis.

Guerrilla tactics were somewhat of a welcome change to Bumblebee’s usual ‘strategy’ of standing around, spouting off rude nonsense, and trying to land a blow. Tamer, less destructive blows than anything Blitzwing could do to the minibot under his massive strength, of course.

Having him get a solid hit in for once and then running off to cower someplace, forcing Blitzwing to make himself a target for more competent Autobrats while he staggered about wounded, still had its own appeal -such as hunting down the dirty bug for sport and shelling him of his metal casing right then and there.

What a thing to look forward to. Perhaps he’d have the scalp of his helm mounted in his quarters.

Blitzwing pulled up the unsuspecting cars that’d been abandoned in the middle of the street, looking for an insignia. Bumblebee had at least proved smart enough not to hide in plain sight.

With no sign of the charming, little idiot Blitzwing was becoming more erratic- it would only be a matter of time before Bee emerged from the shadows to attempt another attack while Blitzwing had his back turned.

“Come out from hiding, jou little scrap!”

So he could push that flimsy frame into all sorts of interesting shapes. ‘Origami’, he’d heard it called.

An answering shriek came from somewhere below.

Far, far below.

So far below, that Blitzwing had to stop, face spinning back to blue as his processor tried to collect itself beyond mindless rage, and stooped down to one knee to better study the source of said shriek. And it definitely wasn’t Bumblebee.

An organic about the size of Sumdac’s offspring was stood there with a wet face, mouth agape, and struggling to vent inward.

A crying child. Blitzwing became immediately uninterested.

He stood again and made to continue his search when the tiny thing cried out.

“I-I-I lost my m-mom!” It wailed. Dripping all sorts of lubricant from various holes.

Blitzwing surveyed the path he’d left behind him for a glimpse of yellow lurking and waiting to make a move. There was nothing. No slimy, stupid minibots.

It wasn’t often Blitzwing scared this bot badly enough to stay hidden.

Or perhaps that blast to the chest had simply proven more fatal... He’d hate to be robbed of draining the little one’s life force himself, if he came across a corpse.

“I want my mom!” The child, who didn’t seem bothered by the tonnes of lunatic in his audience, outright sobbed, catching Blitzwing’s attention again. His voice caught and choked on the words.

“I can’t- I can’t- I can’t *f-find her*!”

His sobs distorted the words, but they were clear enough to pick out. The child’s voice high and whimpering.

The boy stood there, twisting his shirt up in his fists- a failed gestured to self-soothe.

Blitzwing then noted the creature was very pointedly looking up at *him*. Perhaps hoping to make his case that he was very much a helpless thing, and that that may somehow appeal to a sort of humanity in the alien, metal monster before him.

Illogical.

“Mom...” the child whined, hanging his head and leaking fresh globs from his opticals. He looked very close to entering some sort of tantrum. A loud one.

Blitzwing scowled at the pathetic display.

“Vell, vhere did jou last put her?” His voice, too sharp, caused the boy to flinch.

“Me?” He asked. His confusion enough to deter his panic for the moment.

“I... I’m not... I don’t ‘put’ her, um...”

It sounded like a question. Mostly because he was questioning the absurdity of an adult -what looked like an adult- asking him nonsense.

~WHIRR~

“She does not have handles for easier carrying?”

“W-What? No!” The kid said in absolute bewilderment. But the ridiculousness of the question was enough to soften the edge in his tone. And that crimson smile the giant terror wore was a surprisingly small comfort.

Tantrum avoided, Blitzwing allowed himself some crassness, as it’d seemed to have prompted the child’s natural playfulness, and stabilized his mood a bit.

“Jou don’t just tote her around from place to place, zen?”

“No!”

“Take her vith jou on field trips?”

“No!”

“Not even to ze zoo?”

“No!” The tiny organic was laughing now.

“I can see how jou lost her!”

Blitzwing trained his features back to blue and reconsidered himself. Then made his decision.

“Oh. Vell zen... Zat iz an oversight, don’t jou think?” He then bent to scoop the child up and bring him to chest level.

There was plenty of terrified shrieking yo accompany the move, but it didn’t last. Soon the boy was looking up at him with absolute awe. Marveling at the sudden position he’d found himself in- being held in the gargantuan hand of an unusually hospitable beast. One he clearly hadn’t understood the danger of, despite seeing him plenty on the emergency news stations.

“Can jou see her from up here?” Blitzwing asked, ignoring the strange gushing from his thigh wound, as well as inside his chest at the boy’s amazed, “Coooool!” upon looking out at the view.

The child looked out over the streets below, several blocks now visible, and a tiny frown began to slowly stretch his lips. Suddenly remembering why he’d been so fretful a moment ago.

“No... I don’t think... I don’t think I see her.” He sniffled and wiped at his nose with a sleeve.

He stood on his tiptoes in Blitzwing’s substantial palm, searching for a sign of his mother, but nothing came to view.

Worry was creeping over him again.

“I can’t find her.” He sniffled, whimpered. Looking close to fresh tears.

“I-I can’t find my mom!”

“Zen ve march onward.” Blitzwing quickly amended.

He held the child closer so he could move deftly through narrow, scraping buildings.

“Vhat does she look like?”

“Well, her hair is brown and curly.” The child began to recall.

“And, um, I think... she had a bright pink sweater thing on. Um...”

Blitzwing scanned the streets.

“Sveater thing?”

“It doesn’t, like, zip up?” The boy tried to explain.

“Oh, and her name is Rebecca!”

As if that could help in anyway. Blitzwing didn’t just keep the names of every organic on this pathetic dirtball planet on file.

“And I’m Jamal!” The boy shouted up at him, despite being well within audial range now.

Blitzwing’s normally good sense didn’t stop him before replying.

“Hello, Jamal.”

He had to slow his pace down to better study the crowd of confused, panicking people below for any pink sweater things attached to any women with curly brown hair.

How exhilarating his day was proving.

With no sign of this mystery woman, the child -Jamal- began to shiver. Seemingly affected by the difference in wind currents at this height all the sudden.

“Is my mom...” He trailed off out of fear of finishing the thought. But with the general chaos of the city, the distant and random screams and clanging from the two alien factions engaged in battle in the distance, he really didn’t have to.

Blitzwing’s wing struts tensed at the insinuation, and he surprised himself with how immediately he felt the need to correct that sentiment.

“Not hardly. I hear earth carriers are invincible.” Which he had, honestly. They were rumored to have eyes on the back of their heads, and a supernatural sense of knowing when their young was in danger.

The child’s mother was likely in a far more frantic state than he at the moment, searching for her little sparkling.

That gave Blitzwing an idea.

“Rebecca!” He suddenly shouted, his empty hand cupping close to his lipplates. “Rebecca!”

Getting the idea, Jamal chimed in shouting, “Mom- Mama! Mama!”

The two surely looked an outlandish pair, as they pattered between busy streets and circled around blocks, shouting at the top of their vocalizers. Blitzwing caught an optic full of Lugnut at one point in a chokehold with Bulkhead in the distance, laughing all maniacally and stupid.

The sun was reaching farther in the sky, prompting Blitzwing to hike a wing out towards his side to hold Jamal beneath it, under its shade.

They were walking closer towards the center of the battle Bumblebee had led him away from.

“Rebecca! Rebecca!”

~WHIRR~

“Rebecca, please come to ze front of ze store! Jou have a Jamal here vaiting for jouuu~”

No sooner did he make his little quip did the booming voice of his *leader* -fragging Primus- rise above the clash of metal and somebot’s glitching, robotic shriek.

Megatron of all mechs wouldn’t be particularly pleased to find him aiding a human, especially in the midst of a battle. And Blitzwing, in a moment of self reflection, wasn’t too happy to find himself aiding a human under *any* circumstance either.

He wavered, about to fit himself between two buildings and make his self-preserving escape when another voice was quickly accompanied by his commander’s.

“Watch where you step! My baby could be down there!”

“We will find your blasted mechling-“ Megatron grit out, discreetly taking better care of where he was now stepping.

“Not if you keep stomping around like that!”

“He will readily make himself known before that! You’re far too loud for him not to hear!”

As prophesied, Jamal jumped upright, twittering and bouncing precariously close to the edge of Blitzwing’s fingertips. “Mama?! That’s my mama!”

Blitzwing followed the voices -escalating in both threat and volume- to Megatron toting a woman in a closed fist -a silent promise to crush her- and seemingly searching the streets for something.

Jamal.

“My Lord?” Blitzwing yelled less than a block away. Somehow finding the courage to make his traitorous predicament known now seeing Megatron in a similarly mortifying state.

Megatron whipped his helm his way, bristling the slightest bit at having been caught, before he saw the tiny thing skipping about his palm like a flea.

“Mama!” It shouted.

“Jamal!” The woman cried.

Blitzwing felt relief wash over him at the sight of the boy’s mother. This problem *finally* out of his servos.

“Take me to him!” ‘Rebecca’ barked at her captor/rescuer, and Blitzwing answered her command on his lord’s behalf. Rushing over and bending to place Jamal back to his pedes next to where Megatron had lowered his mother.

They embraced one another in an instant, drawn together like magnets. Never having been meant to be separated in the first place.

And Blitzwing stared in abject horror at the thing he’d just done.

....A good deed...

“Vell... zis is terrible....” He mumbled at the sight of the unbridled affection below.

Megatron watched with him, humming in agreement. A painful clicking in his vocalizer when he tried to reset it.

This didn’t look good for either of their reputations as sinister, sparkless terrorizers.

Unbeknownst to them, completely beyond their normally keen eyes, two curious little bots had seen the near whole display in absolute shock.

��——- ———-

It’d kept Optimus and Bumblebee up for cycles afterward.

“He was so... *nice*.” Bumblebee whispered into the quiet of another restless night. Optimus resting his chin in his palm, leaning over his berth, nodded absently. Inviting Bee to his room to practically obsess -not that they’d ever admit their secret fascinations of two war criminals was such a thing- had made Optimus considerably more lax and informal as time passed. Though, just barely.

“You should have seen his faceplates- he was even joking with the kid at one point. I *think* to make him *feel better*.” Bee sounded a little too much like he was awestruck.

Optimus gave a noncommittal noise, thinking distantly instead of his own bizarre memory of a certain, doting warlord.

“Should we like... tell the others?” Bumblebee posed then.

Besides Prowl and Ratchet being unlikely to believe them, there was really no reason to tell anyone anything.

They couldn’t suddenly go easy on the Decepticons in battle- the war builds could easily deliver swift punishment over them, if they were close enough, as it was, but then with the Autobot’s favor? Their hesitation? They’d play them all for suckers and steamroll them. It wasn’t like taking advantage of others wasn’t a delirious percentage of the Decepticon’s day to day operations.

The only motivation behind spreading the marginally good news that they possessed a spark under layers of all that tyrannical vengeance was if they were going to use it for *their own* advantage. Most likely a ceasefire of sorts. And that was-

Optimus stilled.

Well... Maybe that *could* work, actually...

Maybe.

Not usually one to take slim chances, unless the situation was dire, Optimus was up calculating the effectiveness of such a thing when he didn’t much of an incentive to offer the opposing faction to do so in the first place.

Much of his potential success depended on tapping into that bizarre, unlikely kindness in their sparks a second time. Somehow. Still unlikely. Still doomed to fail, if the teachings in the academy were accurate about war type psychology.

But as the cycle turned into dawn, and Bumblebee’s rambles began to muddle his processor with fantastical ideas of a peaceful Cybertron, Optimus found the thought more and more appealing.

The proposition was made in the morning, hoping to catch the others in a good mood and hear some more sensible opinions that weren’t sleep addled.

“Is it *worth* the effort?” Prowl instantly challenged. Bulkhead behind him stood there uselessly, looking plain shook to the core after hearing the whole story.

Prowl had a point, of course, and Optimus didn’t honestly know how to answer.

Was it? *Was it* worth it?

He supposed if it....

“Well...” Optimus sighed, processor beginning to overheat with exasperation and all the ‘what if’s he’d been cycling back and forth through all night.

“If it saves lives then... yes? I think it’s worth *trying*. I don’t expect a miracle. I just, maybe... expect... *something*?”

Something as surreal as a moment of compassion from the ‘Cons that’d risked their time and effort to satisfy the needs of two *human beings* again. A very tall order that was.

But as he considered Prowl’s words, a rare moment of optimism possessed him, and Optimus unwisely allowed himself to rely on the memory of the impossible sight he’d bore witness to that day to justify his decision.

That woman, ‘Rebecca’, had been very forthright and demanding of Megatron. Optimus had seen most of the display between keenly aimed swings of a sword, before Lugnut had come rushing him to the ground and separating him from Megatron.

When he’d next seen him, there was Rebecca. Helpless and in a dire state.

Optimus could only *imagine* what a woman scrutinizing the authority of a power junky like Megatron -who hated a pushy subordinate, much less a menial, disposable human- had done to appeal to the ruthless brute.

She’d stood there, eyes welling with tears, screaming bloody murder for ‘her baby’. Begging for help from terrified people trying to make themselves scarce.

“Please! My baby is missing! He’s just a child!” She’d screamed at Megatron, rightfully assuming another misstep of his in the direction she’d lost her child would mean ‘her baby’s’ immediate death.

Megatron ignored her easily for a time, stopping to aim his cannon at a hyper vigilant Prowl’s helm from a distance. But as her screaming turned into the wails of a wounded animal and she was near clawing at the ground, trying to shuffle through a crowd of chaos to find her helpless, innocent thing, *something* had apparently shifted within the mech.

Something...

However in the infinite universe that *that* ‘pathetic’, ‘weak’, groveling’ display had attracted the sympathy of *Megatron*, Optimus couldn’t fathom. He really couldn’t.

He didn’t even believe his own optics when he’d seen it at the time- Megatron stooping and trying to reason with the woman to recall the child’s recent permanence. What the child looked like.

Offering the oddest sort of ‘comfort’ by ensuring a child with similarly strong vocals would be capable enough of signaling his mother amongst the masses.

‘They aren’t Cybertronian’, Optimus had wanted to remind him. They couldn’t send out matching frequencies for their missing parent.

He’d wanted to take that woman and scour the city with her himself- make sure both of the helpless things remained unharmed.

Instead, he fluttered behind them some distance away in an absolute daze. Resetting his optics, trying to make sense of things. Trying to pinch himself awake from the inconceivable dream he seemed to be stuck in. Surely wasting away in a trauma induced hallucination after Lugnut’s assault.

What he was seeing just couldn’t be *real*. Especially not when the woman trying desperately to keep up with Megatron on foot had ended up in his servo, as he began to carry her to hurry things along. A rather unfriendly gesture- curling his fist around her and handling her with far less care than an Autobot would have.... Save for Ratchet...

But he’d done it all the same- Had left the frontlines of *battle* to search for a human sparkling and hadn’t wavered from his mission once in the several hours it’d taken them to find ‘Jamal’.

He kept Rebecca shaded beneath the curve of his sturdy chest plates, offered small assurances that the child had survived the city’s onslaught when the sudden, pesky tears began to flow, and became a beacon of patience when those tears never stopped.

She grew restless and angry when she seemed to remember the misery said giant warlord had caused her by endangering them all in the first place. And Megatron snarked back with harmless threats and a sharp tongue, all while searching for her child.

Shocking as it was, nothing had prepared Optimus for Blitzwing’s emergence. Carefully chauffeuring Jamal with a hint of softness in his face plates at the boy’s sudden outburst when the organics were reunited.

Two ‘Cons. Standing there in mutual silence as they observed the flittering of limbs, wrapping around one another and rocking together in an embrace.

Mother and child. Creator and sparkling.

That surely must have awakened *something* in them.

A sparkling was a millennia rare thing. A treasure, no matter what faction you came from.

Optimus felt that, coupled with the lingering image of the ‘Cons watching over the little pair, was enough to push things forward. To indeed agree that this idea of his was ‘worth the effort’, as Prowl had questioned.

What kind of Autobot could just ignore such a thing?

——- —— ————-

Megatron didn’t know what to make of the absurd spectacle, other than it was possibly the greatest assault on him and his forces he’d ever been met with. Greater than the Magnus rounding them up during the DRA in an attempt to exterminate their masses.

“I think you can see reason here, Megatron.” Optimus spoke with all the confidence of someone thinking rationally, and not insane enough to call a criminal warlord to trial.

“All I’m asking for is your cooperation.”

Which was as insulting as asking him to do tricks for him.

“*You*,” a lowly, little Prime- “Are asking *me*,” the leader of an entire faction- “To give up my cause.”

That was the fist of it anyway. No matter how he spun it....

This much too young, much too.... optimistic.... *fool*.

Incapable of understanding the physical impossibility of agreeing to *anything* even slightly ‘reasonable of their factions’, if it meant conceding to the will of an Autobot. Who cared who benefited? It only equated to a war frame being asked to go belly up and ‘behave themselves’ for their ‘tiny masters’.

And even if he was exaggerating or being a bit preemptive, he most definitely actually was not.

No. Megatron didn’t think so.

“You are in no position to ask a thing of me, Autobot. You are in no *position* at all.”

Optimus relatively agreed with this. He wasn’t important enough to be speaking to a faction leader about a truce of any sort. He wasn’t even a figure head- he was a captain of a maintenance crew, and one that could often hardly be bothered to heed his orders, despite their great respect for him.

Optimus swallowed, Megatron tracking the movement even from this distance. He was making the fool nervous- Good.

How dare he make such a pompous, arrogant, egotistical-

“I- I believe you’re capable of compassion.”

Weeeeiird the Autobot had taken *that* stance, but Megatron was too gobsmacked to beat him into making sense at the moment. So, he just stood there with audials at full volume to be sure he next heard him right, with patience fluctuating.

At least the Prime’s fellow Autobots looked of mind enough to seem concerned with his word choice, too. Optimus couldn’t turn back now, only press on.

And press on he did with a horrible, even worse accusation.

“You showed a certain amount of... ah, care when you... assisted those humans.”

Oh, so that’s what this was about. He’d seen that unfortunate error in judgement, had he? No matter. This puny bot hardly amounted to more than a stubborn thorn in his side. Megatron would undo any further misconceptions he might have about his cold, blistering spark by alighting the nearest medical center in a tower of flames. Really set the record straight.

“I believe moments of kindness should always be acknowledged.” The Prime continued to run his mouth.

“And rewarded?” Megatron snarled, unable to help himself. Tone clearly unbelieving. This *was* insane, after all.

So much so, that he felt the compelling urge to turn his wide optics towards a very pale, obviously flustered Blitzwing to try and share in the burden of his pure disbelief.

Optimus could recognize the disgust the Decepticon felt having interpreted his words as patronizing and condescending. To a ‘Con, kindness surely would seem as such. What a pity.

Even so, Optimus began to think of how he could make amends. He could admit now that he’d been maybe hoping too much for something magical to happen in all his excitement- which was the first time he’d done anything so whimsical in eons, daydreaming included, and he quickly chastised himself for it. He’d lost his optimism long ago from the many hard lessons life had routinely taught him.

Megatron turned his piercing gaze on him then, all fire and vitriol.

“If I wish to cease the hysterical, endless bellowing of one creature too incompetent to watch their young, so that I might aim my canon unhindered at your witless underlings, that is my Prerogative, *little Autobot*! And *you* will do well not to turn attention to anything less insignificant than the extinguishing of your loved ones’ sparks!”

Wow, ok. Optimus had struck a nerve and delivered them all a death wish.

Some self sacrificing might be his only saving grace here- Actually, leaving right now and calling this a very badly failed experiment was probably the best thing to do-

“It was sweet.” Bumblebee, who’d been under strict orders *not* to speak, then said. Much too firmly, much too loudly, much too certainly. Much too unbothered by how inappropriate it was.

All optics locked like heat seekers on the minibot, but he only had his sights set on Blitzwing. Blitzwing who flicked his wings, his face spinning several times over before finally settling on blue again. A look of plain horror in his features. Then his optics averted as the ground became all too interesting -though not interesting enough to keep him from questioning his entire existence, or why it’d been the focus of the minibot’s just now.

It was a pitiful display of ‘Con-ness, and Megatron was about ready to pull off a wing and beat him back into a figure of dominance in front of their enemy forces with it.

Lugnut, who went from terribly confused to mortified at the news, stood there open servoed and gawking between the Lieutenant and his High Commander. Megatron pressed finger pads to his temples.

Wonderful.

This whole thing had surely become the greatest, most embarrassing blunder in the entirety of Autobot and Decepticon history.

To whatever was left of the neutrals in the galaxy, this whole thing would read like something out of organic adolescent literature -Where the lead girl going through an emotional crisis would call out the moody, bad boy for having a soft streak. And his moment of self reflection and kindness would come off as charming and redeeming. Not to Decepticons, it wouldn’t -In this book, such a thing ended with the ‘bad boy’ snatching away the spinal strut of the accusing Autobot and disposing of it.

Optimus, correctly, knew an embarrassed ‘Con was a self conscious one, and one likely to cover their insecurity up by crushing down the source of it.

Blitzwing seemed to choose that moment to come back to himself and refute Bumblebee’s claims of their misperceived altruism, and that it was ‘sweet’.

~WHIRR~

“Ze only thing sveeter vould be ze taste of jour Energon, spilling from jour throat! I vill twist jour head right off jour shoulders, Bug Bot!”

Bumblebee didn’t even flinch. If anything, he looked more determined.

“You can decapitate me, but the memory file will always right here!” Bee promised, poking a finger against his helm at his brain module- making a far greater affront to Blitzwing’s person than the threat of being beheaded ever was.

It earned shocked, awkward silence from everyone -everyone except an increasingly steadfast Optimus. But especially the flushing triple changer whose face had finally settled back to blue. His least erratic headspace, though undoubtedly his most conniving.

Truly, Optimus hated how intimate this had weirdly become, if only because the Decepticons were the ones who had taken it in this direction. They did a good thing, it deserved acknowledging- at least because it bred the potential for peace. Even the temporary kind.

But then that had to be twisted into some outrageous personal offense on their characters. As if slogging through the wreckage they regularly left of the city wasn’t a far worse offense to Optimus and his kin for the blatant and intentional disrespect. They’d earned their titles as bombarding thugs, and somehow proving themselves of having healthy morals made for a worse reputation in their book.

Bumblebee stood with fists clenched, completely determined to see this through. If he had to say the hard things for everyone’s sake, which would likely result in the humiliation of a bunch of destructive war frames 4 to 6 times their sizes, then he would. Whether it ended with his untimely deaths via crushing and dismemberment or not.

He was going to tell it like it was, slaggit!

Blitzwing hadn’t had to shelter Jamal in the shade of his wing. He hadn’t had to search the city for one useless organic. He hadn’t had to waste all that time while he was leaking from his wounds and making himself a greater target for a successful ambush. He hadn’t had to be gentle. He hadn’t had to comfort the child or try to make him laugh. He hadn’t had to raise him above his helm when he fitted between tight spaces with his massive frame to avoid the child becoming claustrophobic.

Blitzwing hadn’t had to do anything, but be his natural, chaotic self and revel in a forlorn little boy’s terror and misery. And he hadn’t done that, either.

Bumblebee felt his purpose anew. A wave of courage reached him then- the smallest amongst his peers and enemies, yet with possibly the loudest voice.

“You were really fragging nice for, like, *no reason*! You’re telling me we can’t *try* to work something out?! You’re all clearly capable of listening!”

Bumblebee was trying to capitalize off of what Optimus had opened with. ‘You and your kin are sensible bots, Megatron.’ 

Which that was actually a little questionable, but if it wasn’t actually *true*, Megatron wouldn’t have known when to accept good advice and come to this sudden arrangement to meet in person without his guns blazing and swords swinging in the first place.

So there was that at least...

And there’d been no counter attacks thus far into this painful blight, or any secret ambushes waiting. He hoped... which made Bee wonder what Optimus had said exactly to get the leader of deceptive, deceiving, untrustworthy ruffians to come peacefully into this rendezvous in the first place. He’d have to ask him when they inevitably vented about this later in the privacy of his room.

Optimus had always been suspiciously quiet about his thoughts on Megatron as a mech and his peculiar kindness during their little midnight get togethers....

But enough of that. Blitzwing was three shades darker than Bumblebee had ever seen him, and even less, had thought him capable of.

“I mean, *I* want to work this out!” He continued on boldly, as no one of sound mind thought to stop him.

“I’m ready to make a change!”

“Obviously, little fool. It is for *your* benefit!” Megatron barked, finally finding his voice.

Bumblebee didn’t take the bait.

“No, screw that! I’d just like to actually see you guys being cool for once!” Which was as close as he could get to saying, ‘I’d like to be friends’, since Bee wasn’t the ‘friendship is magic and beautiful’ type, and he wasn’t particularly starved for friendships.

It was just that the actual idea that they could potentially coexist on this terrible planet without running at each other with stingers and cannons raised at every encounter was more appealing to him than anything right now.

And maybe.... Yes. Yes, having a ‘Con for a friend did sound appealing, too. The first instance of such a thing in the records of their heavily doctored history books? Frag yeah!

And friends with Blitzwing? It was surreal, impossible sounding. Bee would never dispute that.

He could only attest to how much it’d burn him if the obvious potential for something good to finally happen since his wayward academy days -after an entire lifecycle of enduring problem authority figures who’d easily dismissed his own potential- just standing right here in front of him, both in person and in perfect memory banks, went to waste.

For it to all slip away from them just like that, regardless of how close they were or weren’t to making a real step towards change... The first possible ceasefire in their history- the first possible recording of Decepticon hospitality maybe! He certainly hadn’t heard anything of it before.

He couldn’t let it go.

And all Bumblebee could do was thank Optimus, despite his flaws and insecurities and endless worries, for thinking it worthwhile to extend a kindness of his own to the admittedly most undeserving of mechs.

Now this Optimus was the one he could follow. Bumblebee made a mental note to be more responsive to his comms when Optimus called, and be attentive to his leader’s requests of him. No matter how boring they’d undoubtedly be -like monitor duty. Optimus clearly meant well.

Bumblebee looked from Optimus, unaware he’d been staring at the blue mech, to Megatron. Hoping to find some kind of positive feedback.

What he got was beyond surprising.

A destroyer of worlds looking suspiciously calm all at once.

“If you truly expect us to end hostilities between our factions for the remainder of our time on this putrid planet, you are asking for the truly impossible. We have an agenda and a schedule to keep.” Megatron looked like he was making to reach for his sword before his servos then settled on his hips. Chin jutting up in defiance. And then-

“Regardless, I will consider it.... It’s unlikely to be considered seriously, however.”

“Fine.” Optimus said before Bee could embarrass them all anymore and undo this tremendous, *tremendous* -and vague- progress.

“Take all the time you need- so long as you don’t forfeit this agreement by endangering us or the locals in anyway.”

Megatron had already turned his back to them, ready to take flight. He stopped to throw a deeply insulted look over his shoulder.

“It isn’t an ‘agreement’, Autobot. You haven’t promised us anything in return.”

“We promise not to intervene in your world domination, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” Optimus smiled the slightest bit. Clearly being a cheeky afthole on purpose.

Bumblebee wanted to ask how that was somehow better than any annoying thing he’d just had the gull to say, but the ‘Cons were gone with the concept of a possible truce in the making, and Optimus so rarely smiled like *that* that Bee couldn’t think to badger him.

In the pleasant silence that followed -a silence born of pride and relief that’d they’d managed their first ever negotiation and survived- Ratchet was the first to speak.

“What the entire hell, you two?”

And Prowl agreed.

———- ———— —————

“Zey vant us to avoid ze humans.” Blitzwing stood there in confused shock, stating the obvious because of it.

Back in the safety of their lair, Megatron felt more freedom to cycle between mustering up his absolute outrage and allowing it to dwindle into careful consideration. He didn’t stay either angry or placative for long, twisting between the two so furiously, he was soon at the point that the feelings were indistinguishable, and he was closely approaching a sort of agreeableness born purely from stubbornness.

Stubbornness, of all things, that he might prove himself as capable as ever of standing tall and unmovable against the most impossible, unlikely insanity Primus might throw his way. 

This...whatever this was..... was a different sort of challenge, though- not one he felt compelled to bend to. He had plans to conquer the universe after all, and with ambitions like that, it left little room if any to entertain the idea of peace for the sake of peace for even a short amount of time.

Why should he bother? The Autobots weren’t worth a truce- this starry eyed Prime wasn’t worth one. Never mind that he had been the first Autobot in Megatron’s long lifecycle to offer his respect enough to negotiate this -as impossibly unrealistic as it was, or as ridiculous as he’d been to do so.

Never mind, either, that a Prime at least had much greater authority to consult the Magnus about the real possibility of an official truce, should things go accordingly.

...Or that this particular Prime had attempted to make peace with him rather than incite more mindless violence without a thought to Megatron’s conscious capabilities -Think him little more than a primitive killing machine.

Still, Megatron didn’t want peace this way- he didn’t want peace at all.

He wanted victory. He wanted to *win* the war, not talk his way out of it. Not bow to his audacious oppressors. Especially one barely onlined a thousand stellar cycles ago.

He turned towards a blushing Blitzwing, no doubt recalling the events of that living nightmare and the utter embarrassment he’d suffered just hours ago. Stood there drowning in his own creeping horror.

Strika could never hear about this. Not that any of them would be eager to tell another Decepticon soul, of course.

“Fine.” Optimus said before Bee could embarrass them all anymore and undo this tremendous, *tremendous* -and vague- progress.

“Take all the time you need- so long as you don’t forfeit this agreement by endangering us or the locals in anyway.”

Megatron had already turned his back to them, ready to take flight. He stopped to throw a deeply insulted look over his shoulder.

“It isn’t an ‘agreement’, Autobot. You haven’t promised us anything in return.”

“We promise not to intervene in your world domination, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone.” Optimus smiled the slightest bit. Clearly being a cheeky afthole on purpose.

Bumblebee wanted to ask how that was somehow better than any annoying thing he’d just had the gull to say, but the ‘Cons were gone with the concept of a possible truce in the making, and Optimus so rarely smiled like *that* that Bee couldn’t think to badger him.

In the pleasant silence that followed -a silence born of pride and relief that’d they’d managed their first ever negotiation and survived- Ratchet was the first to speak.

“What the entire hell, you two?”

And Prowl agreed.

———- ———— —————

“Zey vant us to avoid ze humans.” Blitzwing stood there in confused shock, stating the obvious because of it.

Back in the safety of their lair, Megatron felt more freedom to cycle between mustering up his absolute outrage and allowing it to dwindle into careful consideration. He didn’t stay either angry or placative for long, twisting between the two so furiously, he was soon at the point that the feelings were indistinguishable, and he was closely approaching a sort of agreeableness born purely from stubbornness.

Stubbornness, of all things, that he might prove himself as capable as ever of standing tall and unmovable against the most impossible, unlikely insanity Primus might throw his way. 

This...whatever this was..... was a different sort of challenge, though- not one he felt compelled to bend to. He had plans to conquer the universe after all, and with ambitions like that, it left little room if any to entertain the idea of peace for the sake of peace for even a short amount of time.

Why should he bother? The Autobots weren’t worth a truce- this starry eyed Prime wasn’t worth one. Never mind that he had been the first Autobot in Megatron’s long lifecycle to offer his respect enough to negotiate this -as impossibly unrealistic as it was, or as ridiculous as he’d been to do so.

Never mind, either, that a Prime at least had much greater authority to consult the Magnus about the real possibility of an official truce, should things go accordingly.

...Or that this particular Prime had attempted to make peace with him rather than incite more mindless violence without a thought to Megatron’s conscious capabilities -Think him little more than a primitive killing machine.

Still, Megatron didn’t want peace this way- he didn’t want peace at all.

He wanted victory. He wanted to *win* the war, not talk his way out of it. Not bow to his audacious oppressors. Especially one barely onlined a thousand stellar cycles ago.

He turned towards a blushing Blitzwing, no doubt recalling the events of that living nightmare and the utter embarrassment he’d suffered just hours ago. Stood there drowning in his own creeping horror.

Strika could never hear about this. Not that any of them would be eager to tell another Decepticon soul, of course.

“We will play along.” He said at last.

“We will convince these self-important zealots that we are willing to pursue peace within our factions, only to strike when the time is right.”

Blitzwing seemed to be lost to himself- unnervingly set on a single blue face. Lugnut at his side raised his servos in an ‘All hail our glorious leader!’. Not assuming to question his greatness, even when it was well within questioning.

Where was Starscream when you needed her?

——- ———— ——- -

Evidently, Starscream was around just inconveniently enough to ruin much of Megatron’s plan.

Starscream was anything but a team player, and when she’d caught wind of a truce, of Megatron’s presumed compliance, Megatron was suddenly pressed with the issue of whether or not to let her in on his little conniving plan, in fear she may undo all his potential work in an effort to expose and eliminate him, or if he should allow her to believe a bit of it and go on a rampage telling every possible Decepticon comm frequency within range about their exuberant leader’s sudden bout of madness.

“I told you all he was going senile, but you didn’t listen to meee~ Did youuu?” She’d mock. She’d flutter her wings and puff out her chest plates, striking a pose similar to the one she’d assume during her imaginary inauguration as the new Decepticon leader.

Thinking about it was boiling the Energon in Megatron’s fuel lines.

No matter how he played this, he was losing his respect somewhere. He supposed upon further contemplation that it’d be easier to win his legion’s faith in him far easier than it’d be to come across this sort of precious opportunity again. There wouldn’t be another extension of kindness on an Autobot’s end for the rest of history after this, and it was a wonderful thing to take advantage of.

“So it’s *true* then?!” Starscream screeched, voice ringing through every twisting tunnel inside the cavern. Megatron felt his optic twitch.

“You’ve gone and made *friends* with the cushy little Autobots?!”

Starscream then tucked a claw under her chin and seemed to reconsider this. As Megatron had initially -and unsurprisingly- imagined, a wicked grin began to stretch her sneering lips.

“Why Megatron~ Won’t your loyal followers be *thrilled* to hear the good news... A new golden age on the horizon for Cybertronians everywhere. Even the ones who’ve been *banished* from their home world.”

Lugnut made to defend Megatron’s honor and correct the punishable offense that was assuming their grand leader’s compromise to the Autobot cause when the ex-gladiator promptly silenced him.

“Am I to assume that you will be the one to deliver this good news?” It couldn’t hurt to look vulnerable in front of Starscream when it was to lower the air headed seeker’s guard. It’d worked every other time.

“Why *yes*, it’d be my honor in fact! My ‘Dear Leader’~”

Not that Megatron had actually needed that confirmation. It was good to get a general sense of the basis of what false accusations would come against him though -and quite soon, he imagined.

He supposed damage control wouldn’t be too impossible a thing to maneuver if the transgressions his lot would perceive were as unlikely -and possibly even dismissible, coming from Starscream- as his defection to the Autobots.

Those who’d even believe it to be true would be doubly ingratiated to him when his plans inevitably succeeded. Renewing their faith and encouraging them to grovel for forgiveness- remembering then who they owed trust and loyalty to.

Starscream cackled like a hag and fluttered off, taking her sweet time on the way out. Certain Megatron was beyond all his cognitive functions at this point and wouldn’t chase after her.

Megatron watched her go, distantly hoping something as preposterous as her catching her broad shoulders between the rock clusters in her leisurely escape would happen to entertain his processor from the mounting stress of having his hard earned reputation soon sullied. No matter how temporary that relief would be.

——- ———— ———

He was forced to put everything into motion immediately after that. Luckily, the Autobot Prime didn’t have any reservations with this- nor any added stipulations. Just ‘keep the human populace out of harm’s way’.

Of course, that being exactly what Optimus had asked for was in itself the most audacious request anyone had ever made of him. And Starscream had once asked to have his throne for the duration of her report upon returning from the outer sector because ‘her thrusters hurt’.

This unlawfully sassy firetruck was essentially asking that he give up all his rampages and aerial strikes -and the fated Cybertronian battle as a whole- as there was practically nowhere they could go and nothing they could do about their efforts to undo the Autobot forces that didn’t directly disturb the lives of the humans infesting this gritty globe.

When he’d used the term ‘audacious’ every time before, he’d really meant ‘boundless, unlimited, unequivocal entitlement’. Even worse than Straxxus and Starscream.

The Prime thought he was being smart by working around that one ‘simple’ demand -leave the fauna and humans alone. As if it was a small request and entirely reasonable. It left Megatron powerless to do *anything* and rendered his efforts in every personal goal of his useless.

Which led him to wonder if Optimus was *actually* seriously expecting him to agree to that. Really, honestly, truly.

How stupid could he be? How blindingly hopeful?

“This is, er, surprising, I’ll admit...” The Prime murmured, having the unfortunate lack of awareness that Megatron wasn’t being any bit genuine enough to be flustered by this, too.

So young...

It’d be endearingly naive, if Megatron wasn’t easily reminded of the absolute absurdity of the whole thing -including his own contribution of such with this little plan of his that’d better prove beneficial- weighing at the forefront of his processor.

Really, even after his success, this would haunt him for vorns to come. He’d never been so foolish to waste time on such a speck of a sparkbeat before.

“I suppose, um, we should get started.” Optimus murmured

That perked Megatron’s attention, wondering what was more was to come now that’d he’d falsely agreed to this.

“And you are referring to...?”

“Hm?” Optimus blinked up at him then.

“Oh. Further negotiations.” He explained.

Megatron had to tamp down his honest confusion at that. Firstly, how important did this self-righteous Prime think he was? ‘Further negotiations’? Did Ultra Magnus -the old, fragger- even know about this? He couldn’t have, or else the matter of this entire operation would be thrust over to the appropriate authorities and squashed within moments. Did Optimus think himself a revolutionary?

Secondly-

“You said there would be no further stipulations.”

“There’s not.” Optimus affirmed. “But this is a historical moment for our people.” Optimus sounded like he actually believed that. Like he actually believed any of this...

“And this will require a delicate approach. I need to be certain you are being genuine, and that you intend to take this seriously.”

Well, Optimus was smarter than Megatron was giving him credit for, he guessed. He supposed he should know somewhat better by now. The Prime had proved a worthy adversary a couple times now, if he was being... never mind. He’d rather ignore any credibility this little mech might have.

Optimus continued obliviously.

“In order to ensure that, we need to discuss the needs of you and your comrades for the short term, and what you’ll need going forward to transition into peace time. Your people obviously have different needs than our own, how can we make them comfortable amongst civilian frames?”

Oh. Oh, he *was* serious.

Legitimately serious.

Oh, how utterly adorable~

Megatron could hardly contain a grin.

It was interesting the Autobot had chosen to address the needs of the imposing faction before the doubtlessly disrespectful conditions of his own people first. Conditions like ‘flight frame restrictions’ and ‘requirements for tank types to keep their hefty frames off the main roads’. 

And there was such a sincerity in those bright blue optics that Megatron thought he might laugh right in the young mech’s face and ruin this moment of welcome insanity. He somehow refrained. Somehow.

“Please proceed, Autobot~” Megatron purred, like an incorrigible bastard. Optimus didn’t seemed too disturbed by this, and certainly not enough to dissuade him from lifting his chin and looking him dead in the optics.

“I’m aware that agenda you spoke of before includes heavily conflicting ideas with our own.” Which was an unusually nice way to put it- unusual for the rather blunt Prime. He normally had no qualms being upfront with others. He did say this was all very delicate, so blissfully ignorant to the reality. How disappointed he’d be.

Megatron truly struggled to believe him so naive. Maybe he truly *did* know better and simply hoped to change Megatron’s mind with his authenticity. He could certainly try.

“I ask that you try to push those ill intentions aside for now.”

“You want me to stop planning to overtake our rightful place on the very planet we were given life and then pushed away from, along with any thread of worth we were left to claim for ourselves when your leaders assured you all we were undeserving of it. You want me to pretend to forget all of that for the time being and demonstrate some level of generosity for *your* benefit? You, who serves these leaders. Maybe pretend  I’m not attempting the overthrow of an entire government and its people, too? Is that right?”

To his credit, the smaller mech didn’t budge. 

“Your crimes will have consequences one way or another. That’s unfortunately what’s right for everyone.”

“Oh?”

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to be written out of a future on Cybertron- or your kin. I wouldn’t allow that.”

Well, this was reaching a god complex of some kind, surely. Megatron smiled down with wide optics, embracing the madness of it all. It was for the cause, he reminded himself. If nothing else, it was slagging entertaining.

Though maybe Starscream was right to call him mad.

Megatron pressed him.

“*You* wouldn’t allow it, hm?”

“No, I would not.” Optimus said seriously. Radiant, standing proud, optics turning bright and irritated. Good. What fun for Megatron.

Just to twist a bit, Megatron decided to prick a claw into the little bot’s processor.

“Oh, the Magnus must be *so* pleased with your work here, little one~ He must think you a hero.”

At that, Optimus went eerily quiet.

Ha! Just as Megatron had thought.

“Whatever Ultra Magnus’ feelings may be, you are Cybertronian, and you deserve your citizenship, should you accept a ceasefire.”

Megatron stopped smiling.

“And I’m sure you would agree,” Optimus’ finials twitched with the effort not to droop.

“That Ultra Magnus can be inflexible at times, and often unreachable.” Especially when it was Optimus who was doing the reaching.

The little mech was struggling all at once to meet the other’s gaze.

Megatron subconsciously leaned into him. Surely making a terrifying spectacle of them both to their ever watchful followers gathered at a distance in the event of an altercation. But his razor sharp claws remained carefully at his sides and easy to spot.

“That’s why I’m trying to ensure that this arrangement won’t be immediately turned away when I inform him. I’m taking quite a risk involving my team as it is.”

“So, perhaps, this isn’t worth the risk.” Megatron said, echoing Prowl’s consistent advice on the matter.

Optimus took it in stride, choosing not to let fear, and doubt, and inexperience decide for him how brave he could be when it was clearly needed of him. Or keep Megatron from taking the easy way out of this. Change would require constant effort on both their parts.

This was a once in a lifecycle opportunity.

And while really anyone else would be better suited for this position -Prowl with his unbothered confidence, Bumblebee with his strong sense of spark to lead him, Bulkhead with his compassion and understanding, Racthet with his logic and practicality, and even Sari with her determination- Optimus was going to try to make this work. Because he’d gotten them all into this and he was going to at least put himself at blame when it all went up in fire. The fire of their sparkless shells, most likely.

He looked to Megatron, optics speaking of anything but certainty or that idea the warlord had had of self righteousness, and said simply,

“It’s worth it.”

——- ——- ———-

Megatron hadn’t said when exactly they were going to ‘strike’ the Autobots down, but upon the third ‘negotiation’, Blitzwing was starting to wonder if they were in this for the long haul. What a heist this would be when it was all over.

Megatron’s earlier display of his outstanding patience being held captive on a foreign planet without use of his own body was proof of his ability to endure and resist- it certainly nothing to scoff at. He could wait as long as necessary for the perfect moment to strike.

He hadn’t led an army with such masterful precision and skill for millennia by fluke.

Truly, his confidence in himself was a live and dangerous thing, and it spawned many acts of the greatness you’d find in the honorable Decepticon literature of their leader. But upon their return to base from the fourth negotiation, there was a stifling, unsettled air about the mech. Primus only knew what abhorrent things the Autobot Prime was attempting to demand of them.

Under Lugnut’s curious prodding, Megatron shut him down with a very strict, “Confidential”.

Which that made zero sense at all.

They were plotting to overthrow them eventually, weren’t they? The details certainly didn’t matter -So why protect them?

What Megatron chose to keep private was his business, and the rest of them would do well not to disrupt his thin tolerance for the questioning of his authority. But Megatron also had never had a reason to lie to any of them about their plans to dominate and destroy- Starscream was the only bot that deserved and regularly earned his deception. Something he didn’t turn on his own people much if ever these days. Not with the stagnant state of things after the war.

Blitzwing tried not to dwell on it, which was easy enough when he was forced every few days to come and stand on guard with a bunch of Autobot lackeys, soaking up any free processor power he might have to feel conspiratorial. One such Autobot consisting of that dreadful bug bot...

He always stood much too close. Always talked for damn near the entire affair.

An abysmal affair at that- the lot of them wasting away in either wind or rain or the blistering sun. Forced to get along for the time being.

Unlikely, so long as Bumblebee and Prowl existed within the same space as each other, arguing about nature and technology -*of all things*- while their very reality was crumbling around them. And clearly this was a frequent discussion of their’s.

Blitzwing hadn’t met a mech such as Prowl so infatuated with the organic matter in the universe. Even Blackarchnia, half organic, was looking to rid herself of the affliction.

“You would be happier if this planet was completely technological in makeup- if nature had never existed here.” Prowl ‘observed’.

Bumblebee scoffed- as if having come loaded on a camping trip with computerized junk in his chassis once didn’t prove just how deeply his disrespect for nature ran.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Hmph. What a boring existence that would be-“

“*We* are made of technology, you half processored-“

“If the universe was devoid of this organic phenomenon on every planet, in every star system-“

“Do you believe in the Big Bang theory, Prowl?” Bee side blinded-on purpose- using a term he’d heard Sari only ever use once for study purposes and with only half the context for what it actually was.

Prowl knew a Bumblebee-setup when he heard one, and he wasn’t about to do battle with Bee’s straw man.

“I’m not familiar with it -Or how it *correlates*.”

“Basically these giant rocks crashed together 13 billion something years ago, and it sparked the entire universe into being!” Bumblebee looked ready to pull him into some kind of nonsensical ‘gotcha moment’.

“I don’t think that’s right, firstly. And I don’t understand how that correlates, still.”

“Just answer the question, Prowl! Do you believe in it?” Bumblebee rambled, refusing to make sense of things first. A mech of immediate satisfaction, and wishing mostly to hear that he was right about Primus knew what.

“I mean Cybertron is supposedly 10 billion years old, so that lines up with the timeline.”

“It does not.” Blitzwing huffed, unable to stay uninvolved in their madness. The Radom slice of himself, buried in the back of his subconscious, was itching to scream into the insanity presenting itself. He just couldn’t waste an opportunity...

Miraculously, Blitzwing didn’t give in to that side of his processor, only endeavoring to scratch that itch well enough to silence the urges.

“Zere is debate about the planet’z existence before zis, but ve know for certain zhat ze Allspark was a permanent fixture before time even began”

“Y’all are giving me a crisis.” Bulkhead mumbled mostly to himself, having sat through plenty of Prowl and Bee’s bickering to his breaking point before. But there was a genuine tremor of something like fear in his voice.

Blitzwing thought it was certainly odd to meet a bot who was squeamish about an existential subject. They were a practical people about such matters like life and death- for the most part. Even Starscream had seemed relatively unbothered by living on without a spark to bring into the afterlife. If perhaps she would simply cease to exist without one at some point.

Bulkhead, apparently, was less content with this topic.

Lugnut, who was watching Prime outright bark at Megatron like a yappy, little lap dog, his master answering with a laugh of shocked amusement, tuned into their squabbling just in time to hear of Bulkhead’s peculiar discomfort.

“I understand your despair, Large One.” He  turned to him and placed a servo to his chest. 

“I cannot imagine my life without Lord Megatron in it again! An uncertain existence is a terrifying thing!” And everything without Megatron’s guidance meant uncertainty to him. Blitzwing had seen how he’d faired the single time he thought his master actually dead.

“You’re one to be throwing ‘Large One’ around like that.” Bumblebee grumbled.

Bulkhead seemed rather thankful for the massive menace throwing his two cents in all the same.

In a strange sort of camaraderie, Bulkhead felt compelled to expand upon that.

“How did you meet Megatron?”

He wasn’t sure they’d had enough neutral interaction to actually receive a civil response from the bomber plane, but Lugnut was clearly thrilled to have the chance to enlighten them all about Megatron in any capacity. There certainly wasn’t anything about this in the Autobot’s military profile of him.

“Over 6 million years ago, I had the grand and marvelous pleasure of first meeting Lord Megatron in the gladiatorial arena, and I was promptly acquainted with the depths of my ineptitude! He ‘wiped the floor with me’, as the organics say!”

Bumblebee -leaning against Prowl, who was sitting against a tree- bolted upright.

“Whoa, whoa- wait! How *old* is Megatron?!” He squeaked when he’d put it all together. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had lessons on this in the academy. Megatron was a popular subject. The most popular subject probably.

Prowl waited patiently for Lugnut to rock his educationally delinquent world.

“It does not matter! Lord Megatron believes his life only truly began when he found his cause, leading the Decepticons! 14 million years ago!” Lugnut bellowed, eager to sing praises of his master and doing so entirely too loudly. It earned the attention of their respective leaders from afar- finials pricked high on the Prime’s helm. 

Optimus didn’t know what that was about, but the outburst served as some kind of reminder, as those finials then dipped low, as he regarded the towering figure before him once more. A mech roaming the plane of existence for far longer than he maybe ever would, if these negotiations ended violently.

Megatron, however, just looked perfectly annoyed.

“You seem to be in love with the guy.” Bulkhead said then, and it was so far removed from him to make a joke in a time as tense as a faction wide peace treaty, one ready to end in bloodshed the second one of them got too friendly and crossed a line. A peace treaty that was teetering on the edge of a total collapse, as the other Autobots were half convinced the ‘Cons were taking Optimus for a joy ride.

All of them except Bumblebee.

“Jesus!” He squealed, when he successfully reset his vocalizer. “Frag! You bots are *ancient*!”

“And you thought I was old.” Ratchet grumbled. Servos crossed, as far removed from their chaos as possible, as they stood there waiting.

If they could only do this somewhere more comfortable with someplace to sit....

“You *are* old.” Bumblebee assured him. “Why aren’t *they* falling apart like you are?”

“I *am* in love with him!” Lugnut then shouted in response to Bulkhead, choosing to say so much too loudly once more. This time Megatron hid his face in his hands.

Blitzwing excused himself from whatever *this* conversation was to stalk about the edge of the invisible line the two faction leaders had drawn, in an attempt to keep some privacy to these negotiations. Optimus surely assuming Megatron would be more open to talking that way.

This Prime hadn’t accounted for Megatron’s magnificent crassness when it came to speaking his truth, then. After the words ‘brainless floozy’ had once left his vocalizer without even the excuse of being overcharged, Blitzwing knew he wasn’t worried about his brash etiquette in public, and that he himself would never have to censor his tongue around the mech.

Regardless, Blitzwing kept his appropriate distance and remained quiet. He only needed a moment away from all the noise, finding himself frequently overwhelmed by such. The struggle to remain cordial in a time where it was necessary a constant battle.

When the voices in his head became too loud, it was easy to direct his frustration on another equally frustrated being- like any other Decepticon at arms length. This pretend peace treaty left him grasping at straws as it was -despite the art of deception frequently requiring the uncouth and undesirable in any strategy his sort devised- and it was becoming a challenge to keep a grip on his sanity in order to appear collected and patient.

An effort at the best of times.

Naturally, Bumblebee chose that moment to come over and make it worse- had the audacity to roll up on the heel of his wheels and look bored with everything.

“Dude, I get it. Those guys are so annoying.” The minibot said, waving a servo back at the others in the purest lack of self awareness to ever exist.

“*Oh, do jou*?” Blitzwing ground out, honestly baffled. He should just turn away right now before he reached the point of no return and flattened the little scrap.

He had enough reason to as it was for outing him before. In front of *everybody*... Like he wasn’t haunted with the inescapable reality of his actions in the dead of the night cycle.

Lugnut naturally overlooked their glorious leader’s involvement in the whole debacle, but *Blitzwing*? Oh, no. He had to suffer some serious mockery over his comm link for his pathetic display. As if he wasn’t disappointed with himself enough already.

Bumblebee either didn’t care about how totally pissed off he was making the giant, or his obliviousness was astonishing.

“Yeah, I totally do! Here,” He said, reaching into his sub space which jingled ominously with the sound of far too much junk for one little chassis to hold safely. If Blitzwing stepped on him, would he pierce his stabilizer on something sharp that shouldn’t be in anyone’s sub space, let alone a compact model? Did he have woofers in there?

Bumblebee pulled out a handheld device and turned it on one servoed, his other kept digging. Blitzwing was equal parts impressed and disgusted.

“This is what I do when the chaos gets to be too much.” The bug said, handing him the device -a game console. Likely the one Blitzwing had caught him playing around on many times before when he was supposed to be patrolling the streets.

“Iz zere ever zuch a time for jou, jou little pot stirrer?” Blitzwing snapped, unable to keep up the pleasantries with his broken peace of mind. If he had to stand here and play buddy-buddy with the source of his greatest humiliation yet -worse than sleeping through a mandatory aerial strike before he’d even earned a designation for himself- he might break his beloved game device over the point of those horns.

“Slag, yeah, definitely- Bossbot is the greatest mech I know, and I’m not just sayin’ that. But he is the tensest, most boring, most painfully stoic fragger in the universe. Getting him to smile is a chore, and I’m the funny guy around here.”

Bumblebee reached over and did something with the device, and the screen flickered on, making sure to mute the volume. This was supposed to be a serious occasion and all.

“Zen leave him in peace and don’t bother him.”

“Nah, I can’t do that.” Bee said seriously.

“I care about him way too much to see him waste away into whatever’s wrong with Ratchet.”

Blitzwing snorted, unfortunately very amused by all this. He allowed the minibot to fiddle with the thing in his hands and stand much too close to him. Like he always did.

“The goal is to collect spraycans and deface the city with ‘em.” Bumblebee instructed when an avatar appeared on screen. Blitzwing was quietly delighted by that objective and decided he could indulge the little fool this. It wasn’t a terrible way to whittle the time.

Until the bot started talking again -just as Blitzwing mastered the controls, of course.

“You missed a whole row of them!” He whined.

Blitzwing was infinitely less invested in doing well at this than him, but his already flaring temper made it hard not to take offense.

“Zis is just a game, jou know.”

“That you bite at.”

“I’m sure jou can do better, and zat iz good enough reason for me not to take zis seriously. Anyzing jou might have accomplished can’t pozzibly be vorth celebrating.”

“You would do so well in Fortnight.” Bumblebee said with a distant look in his optic.

“I’ll have you verbally destroy all the raging neckbeards on there. It’s mostly a children’s game, though, so spare the kiddos.”

“What are jou even saying?”

“Hit X! Brake this window for 15 points!” Bee shouted, by some divine intervention not attracting Megatron’s wrath to them with it.

Blitzwing did as told, maneuvering the joycons as best as he could with the immense difference in the size of their servos.

“Vhat do ze points do, exactly?”

“Oh! I’m saving them up for the ninja costume. Uh.... Don’t tell Prowl. Don’t want him thinking he’s cool, ya know?”

Blitzwing wondered for just a moment if he was actually having fun doing this. In the comfortable small talk that followed, he was able to forget this little creature beside him was his enemy and that he was stuck in the hot sun pretending to be a peaceful ‘Bot lover for an undefined amount of time. No doubt a laughing stock with a pretty, red target on his helm from whatever ‘Cons out roaming the wild had gotten an audial full from Starscream. It was admittedly hard to recharge with the thought of thousands of other Decepticons thinking he’d defected, even though it was perfectly likely, too, no one would even believe what Starscream had to say. Whoever she’d reached in her travels.

“Are you gonna start playing this when we come out here?” Bumblebee asked, possibly sounding a smidge too hopeful the other might say yes.

At Blitzwing’s curious look, Bee corrected himself.

“Tryin’ to figure out if I can just keep your points or if I have to make you an account, too.”

“I don’t vant ze points- or an account.”

“Ok, good-“

~WHIRR~

“Unlez zere iz a bird costume!”

Bumblebee made a strangled noise.

“A what?!”

He nearly swatted the things out of Blitzwing’s grip with how quickly he turned on him.

~WHIRR~

“Like a bird.” Blitzwing continued, unfazed.

“Wh-why...? That? I don’t...”

Blitzwing shrugged.

“I vant ze vings.” He said simply.

“Like mine.” And flicked his wing struts out to illustrate.

Bee looked him over. Probably thinking much too hard about the significance of this strange moment.

He failed to keep the mocking from his voice when he said, “Well, I mean. Hm. There is an *angel* costume you could wear.”

Blitzwing considered. This little avatar Bumblebee had made, scooting around on speed skates and stealing spray cans, breaking public property, then wearing an angel costume. And the wings...

Good enough.

“Ja, ja, I’ll take it.” Blitzwing nodded enthusiastically.

Bee, despite the loss of his months worth of accumulated points, smiled. Happier than he thought he’d be to forfeit them in order for Blitzwing to get those stupid wings.

“Ok, dude. They’re gold and stuff, too, so they’re actually pretty cool.”

——— ————- ———-

Megatron knew he’d receive word one way or another -whether via assassination attempt or comm link- when the others had heard about this giant misunderstanding. This excruciating, preposterous misunderstanding that Megatron was *truly* slated to change his ways for the Autobot cause, only made worse by the Prime’s genuine concern for their future coupling as a people, all with movements for equal rights pushed more aggressively upon each ‘negotiation’.

Megatron had decided after that tremor in Optimus’ vocalizer when he’d tried to assure Megatron, as much as himself, that they could teach the civilian builds to trust in their core that they were all sentient beings with sparks deserving of nurture and acceptance that it was time to strike. It was time to end this.

This was becoming painful, and it shouldn’t be.

It should only be a fun little game for him of how far he could push this stuck up stick in the mud before the Prime either denied his autonomy out of frustration, as most were keen to do, or labeled him a classless brute beyond reasoning and earned himself a severed limb.

It never came to that, though, no matter how much Megatron pushed, and no matter how much Optimus pushed back. The disrespect or even the fundamental mistreatment associated with the Cybertron elite never came. He never thought to back out of this attempt at a ‘future together’. 

Optimus never even felt those unfavorable ways about him in secret, probably...

Maybe.

That was hard to consider- it felt foolish to, almost like Megatron was hoping it true. But it seemed eerily likely. 

Megatron had had enough- this game had lost its appeal.

Eager to end it, he prepared to deliver some amazing plan to his underlings that didn’t give away how much of a waste of their time this had all been, now that he was unwilling to go through with it. And then, like Primus was real and spiteful as the day Megatron had first onlined his optics, waiting for this exact moment to deliver swift justice upon him, Megatron finally received word of the deeply terrifying consequence from his people for his actions.

Without a sub space communicator to reach anywhere far enough to contact his forces, it was all very horrifying that it was Cyclonus who was the first to contact him *in person*. Having apparently traveled at break neck speed all the way from the Magnokor Asteroids through mysterious means to reach him. Unlikely, and exaggerated, but he was here wasn’t he?

He was here...

Oh, Spark....

Megatron almost faltered right there at the sight of him slicing through wind currents, his metal frame still scorching upon his impact with the Earth’s mesosphere. He stopped just shy of the ground, projecting the sort of deranged panic with his abrupt landing and transformation into bipedal mode that only he could.

Megatron steeled himself for a madness rivaling Blitzwing’s.

“Lord Megatron! Lord Megatron! I came as quickly as I could!”

“Are there others close by?” Megatron asked. He would like to know how many times over he’d have to explain himself if there were. And how many mechs might be aiming something at his spark chamber right now.

“I operate alone!”

Typical. That was one less thing, though, he suppo-

“Team Athena.” Megatron whispered hoarsely. If Cyclonus had heard the horrible news, Strika had, too.

*Strika*. *Not*... *Strika*...

She wouldn’t let him hear the end of this extravagant screw up. Also typical that Cyclonus had left her and the rest to come bother Megatron while he could have him all to himself. If only Cyclonus’ interest in him was something as definable as blind loyalty like Lugnut’s.

“Commander Strika is making the appropriate accommodations.” Cyclonus said then, as Megatron must have said something of her out loud. He could hardly be bothered by looking out of sorts in front of his soldiers, though, when the words at once began to form a truer and darker meaning.

‘Accommodations’?

*Strika* of all his faithful kin was about to revolt against him? And she’d believed so *easily* what only Starscream could have shown her of their ‘conversation’.

So Cyclonus had come here to side with his leader and forewarn of her treachery?

Megatron had heard of greater betrayals in his time as a leader. He’d only served lifetimes of it through Starscream. Who else, but Starscream....

Cyclonus was still rambling about something he realized.

“All rebel forces that would act independently are being closely monitored and are under strict orders. Though I can assure you myself, my Lord, they shall *not* challenge your great vision! Commander Strika will see to it herself if she must!”

Megatron then shut his hanging jaw hinge and stared.

“I wouldn’t speak for the blithering masses- ‘Commander’ Starscream, for example. But I have complete confidence that they are as grateful to follow you as I! Your loyal Cyclonus!” Who was suddenly proving his loyalty far more blind than Megatron’d imagined.

Inevitably, Lugnut would have some mild questions about this, and Blitzwing would begin to have his doubts in him. But Megatron could handle two Decepticons versus an entire army who were- *apparently*- ready to accept whatever insanity he’d created for them all.

That was what Cyclonus was telling him in this instant, yes? That the idea of a truce was somehow believable and even worth attempting?

That’s what Optimus had been trying to tell him. 

“....What sort of accommodations is Strika making?”

——— ————-

Optimus felt lighter. Another negotiation under way and Megatron had approached it with far more sincerity then all the ones previous. Meaning they were making progress.

Was it possible Megatron was playing them all for senseless little fools? Optimus would have needed extensive convincing from Primus himself to believe otherwise.

He hoped beyond all his years, full of doubt and little faith in even the most tangible ambitions he’d once had, that he could reach a mech of such horrors as Megatron somehow- if only because he’d witnessed for himself that the mech was capable of some level of benevolence. But this hope he held a bit too closely to his spark -the first hope he’d had for anything since the loss of Elita- was bordering something like delusion.

He knew this. The realist in him knew this.

But that hadn’t squashed the stupid nagging optimism he’d been named after from blossoming in his chest. This optimism, the curse that it was, he’d long since abandoned. Or maybe it had abandoned him.

As they came to meet at an odd hour much later than their usual meetings, beside a riverbank miles outside the city, Optimus was just lucid enough coming out of another sleepless stasis to push his random giddiness at having been contacted aside.

This could be an attack- it was the first time Megatron had ever reached out to *him* for anything since they’d started all this.

He kept that thought in mind when he found the other waiting for him in an almost serene state, stood by the river’s edge, servos crossed. Watching the flow of water, basking in the moonlight. His back fully turned to a very obvious threat. Optimus liked to think himself one, at least...

They’d brought their respective colleagues. If only because Megatron couldn’t shake Lugnut for anything now that he had him, and Blitzwing was oddly competent in handling Optimus’ crew. Ratchet didn’t waste anytime complaining about the hour all the same.

Optimus thought it another small victory that Blitzwing readily agreed with him and assumed their places at a distance, rather than feeding in to any snide comments they’d send each other in the beginning.

Optimus approached the foreboding figure by the bank- reminded vaguely of a jungle cat from one of Prowl’s documentaries when his hips shifted their weight, moving fluidly like the swish of a large tail.

Optimus hadn’t thought about the fullness in his frame before beyond his larger mass. About the additional plates and cords it took to move a mech of such bulk. What kind of power the seams interlocking those weighty plates were capable of to function as effortlessly as those of a gentler frame.

And he continued not to think about that, as he came to a stop behind him.

When Megatron didn’t answer, he bristled at the thought that this might be one of his little power trips by ignoring the Prime. Then he spoke to him with an edge in his voice that Optimus had never had the privilege of hearing before.

It sounded distant and casual- like he was musing with an old friend.

“Much has changed since we began these senseless negotiations.”

Optimus did bristle then, finials sharp.

“They *aren’t* senseless.”

They’d already proven in about 6 of these meetings, depending on if you counted the first proposition, that they were absolutely capable of behaving themselves -cultural and ideological differences, and all.

Megatron sighed, but his tone hadn’t changed.

“You can promise me nothing. For all your efforts, this amounts to little more than a lot of cheap talk.”

Optimus felt vulnerable in that way he’d found that only Megatron could make him feel. When Sentinel reminded him of his value to Autobot society as a defunct and irrelevant piece of it, it was easy enough to ignore. Sentinel was just as incompetent. What good was a Prime that rolled happily in corruption?

When Megatron did it, Optimus could only accept that a capable, experienced general of an entire people knew what he was talking about- Had had to root out the frayed ends of their chain of command and done away with the useless, straggling bits of it himself. Regardless of how violent their actions could be.

Optimus was there, at that straggly bottom.

He’d be the one Megatron would toss away into repair crew duties -if he didn’t kill him. The major flaw of their people, acting frequently in absolutes.

Only.... Ultra Magnus did a lot of that, too.

It was the other way around, he supposed. Meant to be for the good of all, and what was best for Cybertron. It still left many bots damaged and forgotten.

Optimus wouldn’t say he was one of them.... Exactly.

Then Megatron turned, and when he spoke, that edge to his voice that never quite reached whatever emotion it faintly projected struck Optimus deeply, and reminded him painfully without even intending to of his place.

“I will not settle these matters with anyone who can not promise me change. If that person is not you, I am not interested.”

Which sounded also *vaguely* like a compliment. Maybe. Or maybe Optimus was reading to far into it. When Megatron was actually offering those, they usually doubled as insult.

“You just said much has changed.” Optimus tried. That had been his exact phrasing.

Megatron looked to be considering his words extremely carefully then. Likely filtering much of what he wanted Optimus to hear.

“My people have taken some surprising liberties.” He agreed.

Optimus perked. Fear and excitement mingling together.

Megatron continued.

“However, with nothing to ensure these great ideas you have for their future,” the mention of Optimus personally constructing the futures of a people did sound like he was taking liberties.

He flushed.

“Then I must put a stop to it. I cannot allow this to go any further.”

“W-What kind of changes?” Optimus pressed. His spark was beating so hard that his throat felt tight from the Energon pumping through the lines.

‘Change’ could mean anything- but Megatron putting an end to changes that endangered the lives of Autobots everywhere was unlikely.

So, ‘good’ changes then. He wanted to stop something good -for the *Autobots*- from happening, and Optimus couldn’t even process fully that anything positive was actually coming from these negotiations well enough to imagine what kinds of changes those could be. Only that he had to stop Megatron from stopping their progress. No matter how small.

“It is irrelevant.” Megatron said firmly.

“Because you want everything to stop now- Tell me what your kin are doing. We can talk about this-“

Megatron rolled his optics. The most patience he’d ever had for Optimus after he’d clearly struck a nerve. In this case, it was likely him demanding answers of him that would ultimately sacrifice his authority and admit that Optimus was in any way important enough to weigh his opinion on it.

Which they both knew wasn’t true.

“Autobot-“

“My *name* is Optimus Prime.”

“There is nothing more you can do for me. You made an admirable effort for a cause you believe in- I commend you for this. But it’s time we move on. These means are ineffective, and I won’t waste my time further.”

“So, this is over?” Optimus *tried* not to immediately encrypt this into another section of failures he kept on file by instinct.

He gestured towards their respective cohorts having a not so respective conversation about Blitzwing’s vastly developing video game skills, as Bee defended being bested on his high score. It involved the use of many inappropriate hand gestures.

“What will we tell them?” He asked bravely. Or stupidly. They both knew Megatron hadn’t a concern in the entire universe for their thoughts on the matter.

Optimus tried, though.

“The truth.” The bigger mech shrugged.

“The reality is quite simple.”

Optimus didn’t comment on how nice it was seeing everyone in one place, free of violence. Of course that’d appeal to a cushy, little civil frame.

“So now we go back to fighting and just forget everything we’ve accomplished here?” Optimus knew he was dangerously close to sounding plain petulant, and less suited for strategic truce talks.

“What have we accomplished Autobot?”

“Whatever your people are doing, it’s something good! It’s something we can stand behind and build upon, I’m sure of it!” Optimus tried not to sound desperate.

Megatron didn’t look nearly as heated by all this.

“You’ve no idea what they have planned.”

And Optimus wasn’t dumb enough to ask twice. Instead, he took a moment to calm himself and level his straining vents to work at an appropriate speed. It wouldn’t do to hyperventilate because of a shouting match, and come away from this looking like an upset sparkling. Especially because that would mean admitting he’d allowed his hope to consume him and all his rational thought.

This was indeed over, and he would be feeding into that childish optimism again, if he tried to negotiate any further.

He took one last look at Lugnut nodding enthusiastically to whatever Bulkhead was saying and said goodbye to the image of their factions dallying quietly away together until their leaders had finished. This would be the last time, and he’d been ridiculous to think a future like this was achievable with people like Megatron and Ultra Magnus in power of saying otherwise.

“Alright.” Optimus swallowed. It was an effort to.

“Is it too much to ask that we walk away in one piece now?”

Megatron thought killing them all right here and now would make this final exchange and the disappointment he’d be leaving behind in them all much easier. But that would be a great disrespect to Optimus’ work here, and he’d been the only Autobot Megatron could admit he’d had the pleasure of taking seriously.

The only one possibly... definitely worthy of his respect.

“It is not.” He agreed, and he watched Optimus leave with a stiffness in his backstrut that looked nearly painful.

———- ——————

He didn’t think it’d come to this. For Strika to act so absurdly, one of his most sensible commanders and perhaps, honestly, his most trusted. For his ridiculous little plan to spiral so madly out of control. For the Autobots’ and that audacious little Prime to turn something sickening in his chassis when they left that night.

He didn’t expect for it bother him...

Optimus had been an enormous fool, but, unfortunately, a virtuous one. A visionary, even if he didn’t know it, and a fine diplomat.

Ultra Magnus had better be proud of him and more protective of him in the future. Though Megatron knew all too well that was unlikely the case.

He sent Cyclonus away to send word to Strika, whenever it’d reach her, to lift the bans on taking Autobot captives and every other horrible thing she’d done to lessen the destruction of Autobot forces, and to stand by for further instruction.

He didn’t expect to see Cyclonus again after that, but when he did, he was carrying an urgent message from Strika with him, looking beyond exhausted from everything he’d just put his frame through for the last couple weeks, flying until his engines rattled even when he was stationary.

Megatron took it and clicked it on to read ‘Play stupid games, win stupid prizes’ written boldly enough for his pitiful vision to see from space. All in all, Strika seemed rather unbothered by everything that’d transpired this past month.

It was then Megatron realized those orders she’d issued to evacuate Autobot territory, and release captives mostly unharmed, and abstain from pillaging their much need resources, *weren’t* because freedom for all and a world where their people thrived in togetherness had appealed to her. Had moved her to the core or even licked the smallest flame within her spark to seek peace. Of course, not.

Strika’s job wasn’t to fall over herself doting on her master, or turning a blind optic to his shortcomings to save face. Or remaining silent in fear she might say enough blasphemy in one breath offering him council to get herself shunned to the ‘Megazarak table’.

It was to highlight his stupidity when he was exercising it.

She’d done so excruciatingly... and yes, this was definitely her most blasphemous, disrespectful display of doing so, yet.

Megatron felt thoroughly reprimanded. He’d give her a raise for being the first mecha alive to humble him.

Feeling petty, he sent Cyclonus away for good this time with a message of his own.

‘Wasting resources and presuming to undermine me publicly was a greater mistake than the one I made. Starscream is to be brought to me alive for her torture and execution.’

“That is not for your optics.” He warned Cyclonus, and sent him on his weary way. Worried he might fall right out of the sky seconds after lift off.

It was time to get his hands on that subspace communicator and resume those tenacious plans of world domination. He was suddenly reminded of those weird, disproportionate cartoon mice Blitzwing watched sometimes at the thought.

Unfortunately, setting those plans into motion meant dismissing every rule Optimus had tried to set into motion for him since their negotiations had begun. It’d mean running into him and his odd little crew, coming face to face with the Prime and brazenly announcing he was back to pursuing grinding them all into iron filings.

He reminded himself that that was only the logical conclusion to the unfortunate end of things, and that this would not affect him.

Only inconvenience him.

——— —————

Optimus knew with the nonexistent truce off, the people of Earth would be a target again. How would Megatron get anything done without enacting a hefty does of chaos and genocide? And how would he do either without risking the lives of innocent, easily squashed organics?

Optimus thought bitterly of Rebecca and Jamal.

Remembering the past was a waste of his energy. What had happened must have been some random blip in their coding. That marginally explained why both Blitzwing and Megatron were affected at once.

Except, it actually didn’t explain anything.

They’d had enough time to fall back into a somewhat normal routine since their parting on such abhorrent terms. Failure still a bitter taste on the tip of his glossa.

Optimus couldn’t help but actually admit to Bumblebee that he felt stupid for thinking things could be different for so long. Rather that he’d *hoped*, and that was a more punishable offense than going behind the Magnus himself to arrange all these peace talks ever could be.

Bumblebee had taken to moping around his room with him when the others were asleep. A mutual disappointment of the events that’d turned the tides in their favor for such a short time being lost to the winds now. A little taste of victory- hardly even that- but the memory of the lot of them coexisting in quiet and having legitimate conversations with each other was still fresh in their processors. Bumblebee unwilling to let it go, and Optimus unable to forgive himself he’d lost them such a irreplaceable gift.

“It would have been so fraggin’ nice not to have to fight each other all the time.” Bee sighed.

“Well, that goal was unrealistic anyway. There will always be those that oppose change like that.” Optimus stared miserably at his hands in his lap.

“We can’t make everybody happy all of the time.”

Bee scowled at him from across his berth, his chin propped up on one servo.

“That’s some advice you should live by.”

Optimus’ finials twitched. That wouldn’t particularly sound like an accusation, if not for the face the minibot was making at him.

“Care to expand on that?” Optimus asked slowly. A few octaves too low for friendly.

That was one hell of an invitation for a boisterous, unrepentant Bumblebee when he felt he had something he needed to say.

He did seem to stop a moment and consider his words before Primus possessed him with the same foolish courage he’d needed to out a couple of ‘Cons for their soft-sparked squishy moment all those cycles ago.

“I mean.... All due respect, Boss, you aren’t known for your strong backstrut.”

Actually, that was the opposite of ‘all due respect’, and Optimus wasn’t dumb enough to roll over and take it for maturity’s sake and prove him right.

“You’re out of line, Bumblebee.”

The minibot gestured helplessly around him.

“Were you in line when you tried to negotiate peace talks with the fraggin’ Pit Spawn himself?!”

Which was hypocritical when he’d *obviously* encouraged it -had even suggested it. And he’d completely supported Optimus’ choice to do so, too.

But he had a point to make here.

They were both rule breakers, and Prime wasn’t as straight laced as he tried to make himself out to be.

Trying to fit himself into the mold of a good, little, mindless cog in that ever churning machine -Bless him.

Optimus stood and rounded the berth on him. His size admittedly terrifying when his engine was rumbling like that.

“What *exactly* do you want to say to me?”

Bumblebee was only just brave enough to pretend he was more angry than disappointed by everything they- he- had just lost and was misdirecting it on the only other mech who’d been just as hopeful.

“You should stick up for yourself more.” He said plainly. But it was the challenging glint in his brazen stare that spoke of the true viscousness in his words. The kind of look Sentinel often turned his way.

Optimus used all of his patience as a leader, and the nagging responsibility he had to look out for his crew, to train his features into something reprimanding rather than the uncomfortable dread pricking beneath his plating. 

“You think that would have won the Decepticons over? You think I wasn’t confident enough in my convictions?”

Bee knew he should have stopped there, even as he was opening his mouth.

“I definitely don’t think you should have *walked away*.”

Which how could he make that call? He knew he was speaking mostly senselessly with the sole goal of landing a driving punch somewhere on the other. But he’d wanted it so bad at the time, much more than he’d realized he had, that he likely would have stayed and pushed the futile issue if it had been him in Optimus’ place. Which was why he *wasn’t* in his place.

“Out.” Optimus said coldly. The bill of his helmet was tipped down so he couldn’t meet the other’s optics.

Bumblebee was just upset enough to let anger keep him from apologizing and assuring Optimus he was everything he could hope for in a leader and more.

‘More’ definitely including the safe place he’d made just for Bumblebee to come vent about a nefarious war frame without repercussion. Now he’d just have to pretend like none of that mattered to him anymore, as well as Optimus’ peace of mind....

————————-

Sari was plenty ruffled to learn much, much too late that her friends had purposely not included her in this whirlwind slag storm. Surprisingly, she was  more forgiving about what exactly that whirlwind slag storm had actually consisted of.

Trying to level with Megatron and his crew sounded like a genuine enough endeavor, and she couldn’t fault them too much for reaching towards a future without having to kick ‘Con butt every time they wanted to catch a drive-in movie.

“I could have told you that making friends with ‘Cons would end terribly.”

“Youuu aren’t old enough to have an opinion on anything.” Ratchet insisted.

Sari sat on a spare tire in the medbay, kicking her feet and trying her hardest to blend in with the background while Bumblebee got his tune up and Ratchet fussed at him. She was picking up bits and pieces of this incredible slag show, and Sari had finally gotten enough to, indeed, form that opinion of her’s. At least on the matter of Blitzwing- since he’d only come up about 12 times.

“Jeez, Bumblebee.” Sari said thoughtfully.

“You sound like you’ve got a crush on the guy.” Then proceeded to snicker at her friends immediate outrage.

“I- I- W-WHAT?!”

“Ha!” Ratchet snorted. Probably thinking much the same, now that she’d said it.

Bumblebee pushed off the slab, shoulder joint still loose, and looked ready to run out of there at any moment in both fear and betrayal. Clearly Sari had hit a little too close to home there.

Of course, he’d never admit something like that -if her half hearted jest was any bit true. Surprising as that’d be.

So, Sari spent that afternoon poking Prowl and Bulkhead for answers. Neither seemed entirely convinced a mech like Bumblebee could fall for a ‘Con in any capacity. Platonic or other.

Bumblebee was a easy to offend and anything but patient. Both attributes would be tested heavily in a cross class relationship. More importantly, they were enemies, and Bumblebee couldn’t be sparked into rolling over for any mecha standing against the Autobot way.

Unless that ‘Con could prove reasonable and daringly handsome, Sari was willing to bet. Not that she knew much about Bee’s romantic interests beyond her own assumption.

Sari didn’t think Blitzwing proved to be either- but he did have those strong servos Bee always yapped about when he ogled the fighters ‘in secret’ on her Mortal Conquest game. She’d bet Blitzwing would absently rip the spines clean out of his victims the way Bee liked those fighters to do, too...

“They did play on the Game Box together for a while. Whenever there was time. But I think that’s as close as they actually got to being friendly.” Bulkhead mused to himself.

“He hasn’t explicitly expressed an interest in Blitzwing to me.” Prowl agreed. As if he was the authority figure on all of Bumblebee’s controversial and embarrassing secrets. Which, fair....

Why *would* Bumblebee tell him, though? Wanting to be best buds, and a little extra, with a ‘Con wasn’t something an Autobot would advertise.

When Optimus eventually slunk through the base at an unusually late hour with audial fins low, Sari thought she might as well question their fearless, somewhat all knowing leader about Bee’s latest erratic behavior.

It was not a pleasant talk and only left her with new questions about the insane, sane-less, insanity she’d missed out on more than anything.

“Bumblebee was hoping for a miracle, I suppose. We should all have aspirations-“ Optimus sounded quite pragmatic about the whole thing. But then-

“Unless they cloud your processor to the point of poor judgement.”

Sari felt awkward- smart enough to know she was getting herself involved in something personal by the prickly edge in his tone. Not smart enough that her love for her two dear friends going through a rough patch would keep her at arms length of it, though.

Only just smart enough not to tell Optimus Prime that her best friend might have a crush on a ‘Con. Or remind him of that fact, if he was already aware.

“I can’t blame him.” Sari shrugged.

“I’d like for all of us to be friends, too. Imagine if there were even more giant friendly robots around here! That’d be awesome!”

Optimus looked surprisingly upset all at once by that, but he didn’t let it show in his voice. Sari was an innocent in all this.

“Yeah, it would be. But to tell the truth, I don’t see much point in entertaining that kind of thinking anymore.”

“Well, aspirations and all. You can’t set goals for yourself without envisioning it first.” Sari used his words against him in a fairly good point.

At least good enough to make Optimus look guilty about his harshness.

Not good enough to pass an opportunity to lecture his young companion.

“If your vision is only ever an optimistic one, you’re just preparing yourself to be disappointed when reality settles. It’s called overindulging.”

“Someone just told you that so you wouldn’t chase your dreams.” Sari countered, ‘cause that was *exactly* what that sounded like.

Optimus grimaced, remembering that he had been the one to tell himself that. Still...

“Why aren’t you this articulate when you’re explaining ‘me me’ culture to me?” Optimus diverted.

Sari mirrored his frown.

“I think you’re probably too young to be saying that wrong...”

“Oh. Well, just try to believe me when I say that we- that *I* overshot my expectations for Megatron having some sensibility in his one track processor.”

“I would have, too, I bet. I get my hopes up all the time.” Sari agreed. Hoping right then that she could put a smile on her most stress laden friend’s face.

This, again, seemed to be one of the worst things he could hear at the moment.

Optimus gave a nod, optics averted, and excused himself back the way he came- towards his room. Not a good sign.

————- ——————-

Blitzwing was a ball of nerves.

“Professor Sumdac is the expert in this field and, luckily, in relatively large supply of the resources we’ll need. The less attainable ones will be dealt with as the issue arises- For now, we collect our new compatriot and set to work. It’s time I paid my dear friend and the hellish prison he’d held me captive in a visit.”

Blitzwing knew retrieving an organic, even one the Autobots prized, would only be as difficult as a physical fight, some bloodshed, and the Decepticon’s most likely victory. That happened to be the case a good chunk of the time- he definitely owed credit where credit was due, though, concerning these wily, steadfast little bots. They could hold their own plenty well enough.

What bothered him about this simple task of ‘collecting’ their human hostage wasn’t anything to do with the genuine lack of effort he was willing to put into a fight like this after feeling dreadfully unlike him self these past cycles.

It was, of course, about *who* he would be fighting. It was just a niggle at the back of his processor, just a pinch of nerves. It wasn’t overwhelming his logical outlook of things in that they had no choice *but* to return to fighting.

Of course, they did. He welcomed it even. Anything to rid himself of his nauseating unease.

The fact that Megatron had made it clear he would be leading this mission was another trouble, though. His leader’s intent likely to make a point for when they came face to face with Optimus Prime once more.

That point being, ‘We are enemies from here on’.

And Blitzwing was stumped as to why that left such a terrible taste in his intake.

Like all things that threatened to twist the logic in his good sense, Blitzwing pushed at the thoughts to keep them as far from his processor for as long as he could until they could be overwhelmed by the more important matters he had to attend to.

That only lasted until they reached Sumdac’s tower, as a zap fluttered up his spinalstrut at the sight of a familiar yellow figure below.

They landed and, being met with a surprising lack of a response, made themselves known. Landing within perfect firing distance.

Blitzwing felt numb. His optics trained on a point in the distance and stared- anywhere else, but on....

He only caught a glimpse out of his optic of Bumblebee in a similarly uncomfortable state.

Megatron was naturally the first to speak. The same old haughty tone, as if they’d never wasted cycles away together in mutual ceasefire.

“Stand aside Autobot, and we will have no reason to fight you.”

But they definitely would.

Indeed, that had certainly made good on that imperative message if their presence here hadn’t- They weren’t ‘neutral’ anymore. Never had been.

Blitzwing looked then to asses the battle field. Optimus was of course there, a leader who played as frequent a part in his subordinates’ endeavors as Megatron. Prowl was beside him, looking unusually put upon by something. Probably the ‘Cons becoming a factor of their immediate survival. Bulkhead stood between him and Bumblebee.

The smallest bot stood there, grinding his denta hard enough to hear from where Blitzwing was.

His fists were clenched hard, vents hitching.

When Blitzwing turned to look him over once more, Optimus proved to be in much of a similar condition. Though he seemed reasonably more in control of his obvious outrage, as any leader should. Finials lowered dangerously, eyes narrow, and suspiciously quiet.

Ratchet was nowhere to be found, and as there was clearly some kind of drama unfolding painfully before his very optics, Blitzwing noted that it would be true to form that Ratchet would try and avoid it.

Whatever they were doing outside the tower looking ready to eviscerate each other, who could possibly say. The ‘Cons dropping by to no doubt inflict widespread terror had been unaccounted for, and left them in an even more compromised state.

They were wildly unprepared for a fight and this move Megatron had made to announce his intentions plainly and truthfully going forward had proved to be the most effective -and unintentional- stealth attack they’d actually imposed upon them. Nothing short of cloaking their signatures could be as powerful.

Emotionally tangled civilian types proved especially easy to eliminate.

But these bots had never been the ordinary sort, he’d found.

Optimus hadn’t torn his optics away from Bumblebee and vice versa, leaving Prowl and Bulkhead to do an evaluation on what they were in danger of themselves. It was the most careless display Optimus Prime had ever made, as their primary protector.

Megatron wasn’t ridiculous enough to think Optimus so incompetent he likely made a habit of such behavior. Immediately, Blitzwing was sharing the same strange concern as his commander was in the twinge of his field- that something was off about this.

The little organic, Sari, chose that moment to make herself known from behind Bumblebee then- completely obscured by his frame previously.

“Uh, guys can this maybe *wait*?!” She said, flapping her arms and making the most honest show of a creature fully aware of the magnitude of being on the receiving end of Megatron’s wrath.

Her panic wasn’t quite enough to break whatever spell had possessed the two glaring mechs, however. Bulkhead attempted to break optic contact again, looking between his friends and their impending doom a few yards away, but Bee was happy to move whichever way around him and assert himself in this peculiar standoff, while Optimus might as well have been baring a pair of fangs at the other, and likely was just barely repressing such an urge.

If this had been a ‘Con issue, they would already be rolling through the refuse, punching each other.

Blitzwing looked to his fearless leader for answers then and found a mech with a rapidly decreasing mood over whatever they’d just walked in on.

“Autobot,” He was addressing Optimus again.

“I’m taking Professor Sumdac to use as I see fit. Do not stand against me, and I will return your mercy.”

“Guys! They’re trying to take my dad!” Sari squeaked. Fearful of how helpless her position was in all this. They weren’t listening, and the promise of human extinction was likely on the rise, if they didn’t act soon.

As Sari had correctly feared, having watched the brutal escalation of this argument unfold, this did nothing to dissolve the suffocating tension surrounding them. The promise of Megatron moving into attack, however, seemed to shock their systems into action.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of action any of them needed right now.

More arguing.

“Megatron wouldn’t be alive to take the Professor, if he hadn’t helped him back to function in the first place.”

The other ‘Bots visibly flinched.

“Optimus! How can you say that?!” Sari cried hysterically. She looked between the four of them -her four supposed ‘friends’- then up at the three ‘Cons, no doubt leaving her a grand impression of what she’d be seeing in her nightmares for years to come.

Megatron stared back, soaking in the bewildering sight, at a loss for words. Likely a first for him.

“Way to lay blame, Prime.” Bumblebee *hissed*, and Blitzwing had never heard him speak like that to anyone before. With them recently becoming more acquainted with each other in an effort to form their future bonds, it felt distinctly personal, and he was surprised to find himself feeling uncomfortable. Even if it wasn’t directed at him.

Bumblebee wasn’t finished, though.

“That was a mistake, and we all know it! But since we’re pointing fingers,” The minibot then pointed at the petulant little pout Optimus was sporting from around Bulkhead’s side.

“Megatron wouldn’t even be here to take him for pit-knows-what, if *you* had been more assertive about the truce!”

“Untrue.” Megatron found himself speaking on the other’s behalf. Mostly spurned to take a side by his inherent desire to see order amongst rank. Perhaps impulse more than anything.

“The success of a peaceful truce between our factions was out of your leader’s hands from the start. He could no more promise the glimmer of hope in your spark such a thing than his own.”

Optimus finally looked away. An unbearable vulnerableness overtaking him.

Megatron spared him a single glance, speaking with conviction. Unused to such a show of submission from the Prime.

“He had far too great ambitions -Though you cannot fault him this. I think them quite admirable.”

Bumblebee looked a little hopeless then.

“I... It’s just...”

“You must possess the same ridiculous ambitions yourself, for what good you think you’ll do questioning your leader in this manner.”

It wasn’t a fair fight with Optimus in Megatron’s favor, but Blitzwing wasn’t dumb enough to inject himself into all this. Yet.

He may have never questioned his own leader, but he would have gladly done so, if he’d had had the privilege Bee did of surviving it.

Absolutely nothing had come of Megatron’s ‘plans’ to gain their trust and then turn it against them. Absolutely nothing had come of wasting away in the abhorrent weather on this planet, playing goodie goodie with a bunch of outspoken, annoying, overly friendly Autobots. Desecrating his name for it.

And worse than all of that still -worse than worrying over the incredible waste this had all been, and *still* was, throwing himself into an overly complicated Autobot ‘travesty’ of the mollycoddling kind, that he was *unfortunately* finding himself *invested* in- was that Bumblebee looked dangerously close to crying....

Blitzwing would question Megatron for letting it go on for so long and getting the little one’s hopes up so high.

All of the little ones.

These civilians were far more sensitive about these things- obviously. A ‘Con wouldn’t have wasted time smashing each other through the dirt the moment someone challenged their person. They wouldn’t have bothered with anything short of their offender surviving the brink of death to agree to have a chat after about their disrespectfulness.

He should have passively reminded Megatron a delicate touch would do the most good for this lot. The difference between their class types was often extreme.

And, no, he wasn’t being overly protective of a largely independent, very capable class of Cybertronians just because one of them, the only one that mattered so much to him apparently, proved to be quite sensitive to insults and tethered to his insecurities at times. That was definitely unrelated.

Megatron had been too harsh, was all.

Bumblebee might have been just bold enough -and emotionally compromised enough- to turn his anger on Megatron then, and then Blitzwing thought he really would have to intervene to keep him in one piece. But then the little bot gestured uselessly at what an utter mess this all was, his chest puffed up, holding in a whimper, and set his teary optics on Optimus again.

“It could have been different.”  His vocalizer abruptly cut off at the end, but the message was clear. He was upset to the point of tears.

In front of a bunch of *Decepticons*. In front of the *Leader* of the Decepticons. In front of *Blitzwing*.

All horrified sets of optics looked on- even Optimus, whose outrage had melted away with the last vestiges of his energy, maybe even his will to exist at the moment, and looking to be a shell of himself. Totally hollowed out inside. Distantly aware this all needed to come to the surface one way or another, and Bumblebee was going to be a tiny little wreck for it afterwards.

Optimus decided in that moment that his own despair could take a back seat.

“You always back out when it matters.” Bee murmured, lacking the powerful heat that’d been in his glare.

“That’s not true, Bumblebee.” Bulkhead said with a soothing edge to his voice. Of course, he understood what he was going through. He’d been on the receiving end of Optimus’ wrath plenty before, and knew he’d see more of it in the future. Their leader prone to snapping before bending when things became heated. And still-

“Optimus was brave enough to give this whole thing a try. Remember?”

“There was no way to guarantee it would work.” Prowl agreed.

Their teammates keeping calm enough to remind them of the facts should have been enough to bring them back to themselves. But Optimus was as easily turned a martyr as ever, even when it was the least sensible time to allow guilt to fog his processor.

“I think the reality is that I was ‘stupid’ enough to give this a try.” He supplemented. A distant ache in his chest- and processor. Both for two entirely different reasons.

Megatron might have felt a fuse blow in irritation.

Lugnut, who’d been forgotten to even have existed at the moment, stepped forward at Megatron’s side. His servo raised, retracting inward to be replaced with the dreaded, horrific POKE. Blitzwing’s wings flexed with the effort not to retreat to the skies.

“Gah! Since you blithering fools will not cease your *bickering* and *move*, I will do it for you!”

Blitzwing’s body didn’t even have a chance to subconsciously move towards Bee to shield him before Megatron was holding up a hand to stop the big brute.

“Silence, Lugnut. This isn’t a matter of strength of arm.”

Obviously -and the romantic in him just barely avoided calling it ‘a matter of spark’, and thank frag.

Prowl watched the trio curiously, hyper aware of their every little twitch. Condensation heavy on his frame from trying to keep a calm visage, while his team was in disarray.

Megatron took another step closer, successfully avoiding looking like a threat under the ninja bot’s intensive gaze, and offered himself to Bumblebee’s full attention.

“Minibot, you should direct your grievances unto me. I am the one who denied your leader’s proposition. Now, what are your qualms?”

Bumblebee just sniffed at him, realizing that would be entirely useless. He couldn’t hope to win a dispute with Megatron for anything. More importantly, Megatron wouldn’t care to give him either truthful answers or serious ones.

He was a *Decepticon* after all. *The* Decepticon.

Instead, he gave a vague, “He just gives in....” as his defeated answer. The only information he was willing to share, and completely indecipherable in meaning for Megatron, who’d only ever known a mech willing to bite his head off over imaginary equal rights.

Bumblebee vividly recalled the choice words Optimus had had for them all after Megatron’s uprising from Sumdac Tower -crushed under the immeasurable stress of leading a repair team, an insubordinate one, he’d explicitly reminded them, against the current greatest threat to their species and the universe. And the way he’d spoken to them when he’d finally succumbed to that pressure- a way Bumblebee would have never turned against his teammates. His friends. People who hadn’t signed up to be stuck on an unmarked planet, expected to protect life as they knew it from extinction.

Remembering, too, the conversations with Sentinel on the vidcoms. The way Optimus almost predictably caved when the bigger bot became aggressive. Which was practically immediately. The way he’d allow Sentinel to get away with talking to *them* next.

But he didn’t say any of that, of course. It sounded childish to have bothered him so terribly when he knew well and good he was in no shortage of faults himself. Like pinning too much expectation on Optimus to succeed in a multi-faction campaign had been -all while he was supposed to wait quietly on the sidelines and rejoice in the easy victory he’d been secured.

He couldn’t help feeling that unsavory way about his minimal efforts when it was so easy to get confused about the horrible way this wonderful prospect of change had ended. But channeling it into the bruising of Optimus’ dwindling ego wasn’t the way.

Megatron couldn’t hope to know anything about Optimus Prime’s private life with his comrades. He could only bare witness to the deeply stricken, spark guilty mech he was seeing before him now and decide solely upon that alone that he would like to put an end to this pointless blaming *immediately*.

Frailty did not suit this mech.

“I have determined peace between our factions to be insufficient in fueling our objectives as a people- and not you, or your leaders, or anyone else, could have changed my mind.” Megatron grit out through clenched denta. Shockingly affected by the little bot’s blatant disrespect.

“With this in mind, I will say that if anyone *could have* succeeded in turning my opinion, it would absolutely have been your steadfast Prime.”

Steadfast. The very opposite of what Bee had been saying about him being so easily broken.

“But he couldn’t, could he?” Bumblebee snarked, reaching into the shallowest part of his spark to deliver the hateful comment unto his utterly stricken leader, standing there with finials low and optics unseeing. Accepting it.

Blitzwing stepped forward when Megatron did then. Hoping his instinctive urge to protect the tiny bot from another ‘Con’s attentions would be overlooked at the moment by Megatron’s own peculiarly strong urge to do so for Optimus.

Not entirely so, to Blitzwing’s pure mortification, as Megatron turned a snarling show of teeth upon him for assuming to assist his chosen object’s assailant.

Blitzwing wondered if the other civilian frames all caught up in this were aware of the Con’s unfortunate coding making choices beyond their processors for them. Acting entirely on a deep rooted instinct that went beyond even simple programming. Humiliating, if so.

Lugnut obviously did, and he could only watch on *helplessly confused*, seeing his master acting in such a state. Perhaps even coming to terms at last that his blind loyalty might need its first reevaluation.

“You have become entirely too invested in this fantasy of your own making.” Megatron said to Bumblebee, a warning clear in his tone. His optics flittered over to Blitzwing then -the assailant’s impromptu guardian- causing the other’s vents to stall out.

To his own amazement, he found himself standing unflinching beneath that molten hot glare, appearing as a beckon for the defenseless minibot. Megatron could applaud him that at least.

The little yellow hellion sniffled, fresh tears of frustration prickling his optics, but refusing to let them fall.

“Th-That’s not true! He wanted it as bad as I did!”

Optimus miraculously found his voice at that.

“*Bumblebee*!” He hissed, but a warm blush on his cheekplates dampened the effect.

Bumblebee ignored him.

“He won’t admit it, but he did! I’m not the only crazy one here!”

And this was all very much crazy.

Blitzwing acknowledged that applied to him just as well, and Megatron, for being equally as disconnected from reality in defending a pretty, blue and red doormat more or less. The two of them attempting to secure these distressed little mechs from their fussing and rebuild the crucial bond civilian types kept preserved.

It was the oddest, most demoralizing urge to see that through, but neither seemed in a state to rectify their primitive coding.

Or admit this had stopped being an issue of mindless coding the moment they had begun to respect their counterparts and find them worthy of protecting in the first place.

At some point during those silly ‘negotiations’ that’d left much to be desired, these lively, colorful little idiots had started to look more and more like a welcome addition to suffer the tyranny of a war build’s naturally possessive behavior -Their only defense against such being their unlikelihood to become attached to most things that didn’t extensively benefit them to do so.... Which especially included fragile little Autobots.

Of course, they hadn’t known the little fools had managed to sink their claws into them *somehow*, until they were being forced to acknowledge it. Forced to consider their very existence, as they stood there defending them and their bickering.

There was a moment of awkward tension where the little bots stared at one another with nothing but hurt and fury in their optics. Bumblebee just at the cusp of shaking apart under all his pent up stress. But then Optimus caved, as hard as Bumblebee claimed he would, seemingly coming to terms with his own reality of the events that’d transpired over the last few weeks and how right Bumblebee was- at least, how Optimus thought he might be in a moment of his nonexistent self-esteem managing to plummet further.

“I know this all blew up in our faceplates... I know this opportunity was wasted because of me...” He murmured.

Megatron was deeply disgusted by this proclamation, but he didn’t get a chance to say how that was precisely the stupidest thing he’d ever heard- even knowing several Decepticons who’d willingly chosen to remain illiterate to this day, Optimus’ ‘confession’ had easily exceeded in stupidity.

Before he could snap an iota of sense in the otherwise sensible mech, the ridiculous little firetruck went on confirming his subordinate’s ill regards.

“I wish that I’d done this right when I’d had the chance to.... But I can’t change the past.”

“How could you have done this any differently?” Megatron didn’t even hide the bewilderment in his vocalizer -wondering what portal he’d stepped through when they’d landed where his words as the crowning war lord with the upmost priority in the ranks of Decepticons and Autobots alike were excused and ignored within seconds of uttering them.

He’d very clearly stated that this was out of the Autobot’s servos. Everyone had heard him -unless he’d been speaking Vosian without his knowing.

Optimus rubbed at his tired optics.

“If I’d had never gotten expelled in the first place, I’d be making a difference right now... I’d be more important to the cause, and Ultra Magnus might listen to me if I told him about my ideas for a truce.”

Optimus tried to shy away when Prowl made to reach for him, but the truth was that his palm on his shoulder plate was the tiniest bit grounding, and Optimus needed whatever help he could get in keeping his optics dry.

“I had to solidify my efforts somehow.... He wouldn’t have listened to me otherwise.”

Not for the first time, Optimus was reminded that he wasn’t helping his people here- essentially exiled on earth and running his mouth at Decepticon warlords like it was a sport. Why else had he thought he could take this monumental task on himself? He hadn’t really believed he could make a difference with a track record like his, had he?

For the bots he could make a difference for -his team- he was doing nothing more than endangering them all with this arrogant pursuit. It didn’t matter what Bee had encouraged, or even Sari, now that she knew. They were under his lead, following his orders. He had authority over them... They had to do what he said, as much as Jazz had to listen Sentinel.

“What would you have me do?” Megatron asked then, feeling like his processor had been bled dry of logic altogether.

“Abandon the people who expect me to bring them justice? Abandon our cause? I couldn’t do that- no matter what you hoped to accomplish, it would never come to be, little Autobot.”

Megatron stilled, considering very carefully the wisdom he wished to bestow upon the mech stood anxious and uncertain behind him. His own struts stiff and uncomfortable -unsure if he was willing to accept how fantastically things had derailed under his own supervision.

And then he turned to face Optimus, stooping the tiniest bit to be more at his level, and said firmly.

“You can’t hold yourself accountable for the misgivings of others.”

And if Optimus was as willing as he’d seen thus far to do ‘right’ by other bots, he really shouldn’t.

“You deserve the utmost respect for your efforts, especially from yourself.”

Megatron had a fleeting moment of unadulterated horror to think how compromised his logic had become to offer *comfort* of all things to his little nemesis. But then the smaller mech turned another shade darker, and he couldn’t remember why he actually hadn’t done so *sooner*.

Optimus bit into his bottom lip, looking up at the taller mech. Starkly aware he shouldn’t be looking at him in anyway that didn’t draw him as a giant target to slice his axe through. Optimus tried for all of a klik to muster his once boundless hatred for this mech before the true meaning of his words touched him deep in the most neglected part of Optimus’ conscious. The part of it he tried to convince himself didn’t desperately need approval and validation.

Meanwhile, Blitzwing took the blessed lull in their energy fields to look over at Bumblebee and find him finally seeming to soften with the want to apologize. To reach out with kindness to his leader and make right what they’d said to each other.

“You can’t let other’s affect you so when you’re a leader...” Megatron continued, utterly compelled to.

“They will have their doubts in you, but you will show them through action of your own that you deserve their trust and their respect. If they do not offer you either, it isn’t your responsibility to be burdened by their ideas of you.” Because they were all fools if they didn’t, and Megatron couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

He looked at those hopeful, blue eyes searching into him.

Those eyes so blue in more than me way.

Megatron sighed.

“But, you’re so young...”

It was unlikely Optimus could ignore the cutting words of anyone who might seek to knock him off his pedes.

Something plagued this mech. Something troubled him too terribly to instill much faith within himself, and that was about the biggest blight on all of Cybertron and the Allspark Megatron had ever known.

Optimus, genuine, selfless, thoughtful, uncertain, absurdly hopeful Optimus should never had been abandoned to feel so unsure of himself or his incredible talent. His compassion, his gentle nature, his ability to spread good will- or at least his desire to try.

Nobody had ever told him otherwise, had they? Not the right people- not the people who could have made the biggest impact on him. Shaped him as a soldier, given him time and care to grow. Those people had most likely even done the opposite.

Buried him further where the light of his own hope could no longer reach him. Promise him his worth was destitute.

Megatron felt incredibly troubled to know this mech all at once.

“Uh... Um, hey....” Sari began, coming out from around Bumblebee to stare wide eyed at the telenovela worthy chaos before her.

“Uh. What do you guys want with my dad?”

“Ve need him to make us a subspace communicator to contact Lord Megatron’s forces.”

Blitzwing answered truthfully. Either way, they’d all be coming away from this deeply scarred and with a magnitude of trust issues. Where was the harm in admitting to attempted kidnapping?

Bulkhead perked then, seizing the opportunity to continue this without violence.

“Well... Maybe we can work something out?”

Megatron felt himself age a few thousand years.

———— ————

Of course, the little scraps had lost contact with the Steelhaven since crashing on this insipid planet, and there was nothing they could ‘work out’ regarding Megatron’s need for a communication source. Nothing they could do more than the lot of them walking  quietly away from this, so everyone could cool down and come back to their senses. All expecting Megatron to simply leave empty handed of one organic, reverse engineer.

What part of ‘No Truce, Only Enemies’ did they not understand? Now Bulkhead was trying to make empty compromises?

What hope had he that Optimus, Megatron’s only fond acquaintance of this incorrigible lot, narrowly didn’t?

Exactly none, that’s what.

“I have asked generously that you stand down.” Megatron snarled.

“I will not repeat myself.”

And then, when they inevitably refused now that he’d talked them out of their senselessness, there’d be nothing left to do but fight.

And that was all there was to it, it seemed.

Optimus nodded, resigned to the inevitable, and began reaching for his axe- battle mask forgotten in his half sparked desire to lead a defense. Maybe he was actually expecting to be bested quickly in his subpar state, so they might return to their base, and Optimus could retreat into himself for a few moments just to process this ungodly embarrassment before constructing an outline of Sumdac’s rescue. Essentially expecting defeat.

It was, without a doubt, the most pitiful display Megatron had ever seen, and so unlike the Prime he’d come to know in every conceivable way.

Distantly, so very distantly and obscurely and almost impossibly, Megatron couldn’t help but wonder if a loss like this having such an impact on his seemingly unshakable rival might be because there was more at stake than the loss of one unlikely truce. Something beyond his struggle to outlive the failures of his past and his abysmal sense of self.

Perhaps perceiving some great loss in the ‘loss’ of Megatron.

Like, perhaps, he’d wanted his camaraderie? Like he’d wanted more time to speak candidly with another mech, when the option was so rare. Like he’d wanted his company in some familiar capacity. That he’d wanted something.... else...?

Megatron shunned the thought. Thinking like that was gravely beneath Optimus’ deserving. He was to be respected- especially since he wouldn’t respect himself...

But a fight was the only logical course of action here on, as neither faction could simply surrender.

Bumblebee followed Optimus’ lead and readied his stingers while Sari took cover. The other Autobots preparing themselves, coming out the other end of the emotional minefield they’d marginally survived to embrace battle. However successful they imagined they’d be in such a debauched state. Brave little bots, as they ever were.

Megatron looked at an exhausted Optimus and knew he’d have to fight this mech then. There truly was nothing left for them beyond a mutual agreement to disagree. Bizarre as it was that Megatron was having trouble justifying beating a mech in such a shaken state, despite him being a thorn in his eye since his reawakening on this planet, Megatron knew it was the only path for them.

Perhaps their destiny, even. Megatron was just romantic enough to believe so.

Across from him, Blitzwing looked woefully unwilling to do fighting of any sort. Fanning his wing the tiniest bit to shield the minibot. Megatron could deal with such insubordination later.

This moment right now was his calling- his time to take up arms once more for his people. The past was the past, the ‘peace’, real or not, was over.

Lugnut took all of one step forward with servo raised and POKE ready before Megatron was quickly throwing out a hand to catch him by the forearm and promptly put a stop to that.

“Hold all fire!”

Bumblebee pointedly did not lower his stingers. But as they were raised towards Megatron’s helm and Megatron’s alone, he didn’t imagine Blitzwing would be too upset about his eagerenss to take a shot at one of them.

Megatron found the threat seriously lacking.

“Prime,” He snapped, quickly turning his attention on the Autobot who’s finials twitched. Sensing... something.

A strong intuition, this one.

“There is no need for us to spill each other’s Energon.” Megatron tried one final time. Terrified that he was about to do something awful. Something even worse than slaughtering this tiny mech. Something like letting him *live*.

“You can prove yourself a competent leader now, and stand down!”

“I can’t let you take professor Sumdac, Megatron.” Optimus said in what was left of his authoritative tone since having a crisis in front of everyone and Primus. He looked in no such state to back that claim, but-

“I *won’t* let him go without a fight.”

Optimus could realistically accept what that meant for them then, and raised his axe to his chest. Prepared.

It was only a blip in the next nanosecond that Megatron perfectly recalled Strika’s message to him about ‘playing stupid games’ and the consequence of such, to remembering pivotal moments in the millennia he’d spent leading an army through war. Remembering what he’d had to sacrifice to earn his stature and rank.

It took marginally less time than that even to ruin everything he’d ever worked for.

“We shall attempt this truce of yours once more!”

Not that it was ‘Optimus’ truce’, and not that it didn’t cater heavily towards the justice of war frames. But Megatron wasn��t willing at the moment to take responsibility for that, too, on top of his single handed destruction of the Decepticon empire just now.

Optimus blinked like he hadn’t heard him. Maybe he hadn’t.

“We’ll try one final time.” Megatron reaffirmed. His vocalizer feeling stretched thin.

“Ultra Magnus must have a hand in securing our progress, however.”

Optimus, like everyone else within audial range, needed several kliks to process that. He spluttered and clenched his axe towards his chest, like he was desperate for something to hold on to. Something to put between himself and Megatron’s impossible promise. One he surely couldn’t mean.

Bumblebee flapped uselessly behind the triple changer.

Blitzwing was forced to recalibrate his gyroscope. Feeling as though gravity had just dissipated from the atmosphere and the earth was shifting beneath him, because this was definitely not part of some plan anymore....

Bee’s strangled squeal from his side grounded him immediately.

This.... this *was* real, Megatron had definitely just said that. Possibly without an ounce of the appropriate consideration it honestly demanded. 

Starscream was right that their leader was no longer fit to be such, and Blitzwing was hard pressed to find a fault in that.

Megatron, to his credit, gave a valiant effort to seem indifferent to the little Prime’s equally ill suppressed glee and barreled on before he could drown in the severity of his tremendous regret.

“Though the fact pains me greatly, Ultra Magnus is the only mech that can incorporate these changes you’re pushing for. He must have a hand in these negotiations.”

Optimus tried to argue that those changes ‘he was pushing for’ were all strictly in Megatron’s interest in that he receive equality and the rights of all Cybertronians who were willing to do good. Not that Megatron was of course. Yet... If ever...

But neutrality and peace was an indirect, indisputable good. Wasn’t it?

Optimus, processor spinning a mile a minute, could hardly think otherwise.

He was shaking, cycling through unspoken emotions, some entirely new to him. Excitement muddling the words he longed to say. Megatron watched with a carefully blank face, hoping his spark doing strange leaps in his battle warn chassis weren’t detectable through that immaculate intuition alone, and, finally, the dearly important words stuck in Optimus’ throat stumbled out.

“Wh-what if... I don’t think Ultra Magnus will take a liking to this suggestion, I.... Wh-What happens then?”

Megatron very sensibly did not admit that he was well aware that Magnus’ involvement was a great unlikelihood when he’d agreed to a second truce in the first place. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he was mysteriously invested in seeing Optimus at ease for once- eager and motivated, like he’d been during negotiations -when he thought he was being helpful.

Megatron did not pity his efforts, nor belittle them. But he did, in truth, find them endearing- in a soft sparked, blue eyed -literally, too- bot trying to find some good in the world sort of way. This young, sweet thing.

Megatron scowled.

As far as Ultra Magnus went, while preserving some of his reputation as a sparkless, conniving war lord, well...

“He may very well not come around, but I offer you this opportunity all the same. It’s your choice whether you take it-“

Then he stopped, acknowledging the unholy level of responsibility even that would place onto Optimus, *again*, and quickly back-peddled.

“And we will consider other alternatives from there. I strongly advise his involvement and hopefully some degree of compliance.”

Optimus was beyond thrilled, but all he could muster to show for it was a ridiculous -adorable- gaping mouth that opened and shut several times over in his loss for both words and processing power.

Megatron couldn’t remain prideful in his half baked, overly confident decision for long. Optimus’ finials subconsciously lowering as he bit at his lip and studied the ground in a fierce battle to fight the smile from his face knocked the hot air right out of Megatron’s vents. He covered it up well enough by looking daringly at the other Autobots to challenge him.

No one did of course. The shocked silence spoke of no such protests, and the faces full of awe -some being his own soldiers’- stared back in wonder. ‘Wonder’, or utter disbelief.

So it was to be, apparently, that Megatron would be making a fool of himself once more. For a depressed, foolish Autobot’s benefit of all things. 

Only....there was one enormous issue lying plainly before them that they hadn’t thoroughly considered....

The watery smile slipped from Optimus’ faceplates as he looked up at him in dawning horror. 

“Well, I... I *would* tell Ultra Magnus, if I... if I could reach him. I-I *will* tell him, just... as soon as I’m able. Ah... I...”

Megatron turned his paling face away from the gathering mecha.

That meant he’d have to play nice in the meantime. For however long that would be -Because he’d already sold himself to this preposterous, humiliating arrangement, and it was definitely only because of that, and not because of Optimus lighting up like starlight.

“We’ll have Professor Sumdac start to work on that communicator then...” He said at last. Realizing that was about the only thing they could do.

“And until then?” Prowl was smart enough to ask- While Optimus was unfortunately succumbing to that hopefulness he fought so hard against from consuming him and dared not voice such concerns.

His optimism did seem to have a way of defining much of his processing. Megatron was distraught to find that little bit endearing, too.

“Until then... we will... enact a ceasefire between our.... factions.” That was almost painful to say.

He could push it aside well enough to admire the way Optimus seemed dumbstruck, torn between awe and graciousness and worry -and that darling, blossoming hope.

He was already rushing to continue where they’d left off.

“Those changes you talked about that your people have been-“ But Megatron would rather not speak of that in front of the others.

“We will discuss those matters in our next negotiation.” He said plainly, with a palm held out to quiet him. The promise of negotiations resuming was enough to quiet him. But not pacify him.

Optimus looked like someone’d set off a fire works show in his chassis. He turned soft blue optics away to rejoice quietly with himself, smile wide and vibrant, while the others voiced their opinions at one another.

“Sweet!” Bumblebee was the first to speak, pumping his fist in the air and coming forward to backslap an unmoving Blitzwing.

“We can play more Jet Grinder now! I can get my high score back!”

Blitzwing scoffed with all the superiority a mech that’d delivered the smack down upon a noob-ish fool like Bumblebee could.

“Don’t bet on it, Bug- unless jou are betting jour points.”

Bumblebee made a rude gesture he’d picked up from the locals.

“No way! You’re gonna cry so hard when I get my initials in gold letters back at the top of the score board! Sucks for you~”

Blitzwing flicked his wings in irritation, so as not to express the fact that he could hardly contain himself at the moment.

Sari, who’d been too overwhelmed by whatever she was witnessing in both the mech of horrible legend and the normally stoic, unexcitable Optimus, looking a little too invested in one another, excused herself from the whole mess entirely to go inform her father inside the tower that they would not be coming in to check out that super-amazing-latest invention they’d came here for anymore.

Also that’d he’d almost been captured and exhausted of all his resources by the Decepticons before Megatron surprisingly wussed out for some reason. Well, not for some reason... But she wasn’t willing to give life to the fact that it’d been because she’d seen similar behavior in those lovey-dovey romance movies.

For the sake of everyone, nobody needed to openly acknowledge what was happening between them there. She was fully convinced Optimus was oblivious to that poorly disguised soft look in Megatron’s optic, anyway, so he wasn’t to blame.

Prowl took the next opportunity to remind Optimus that they were treading very deadly waters now. As if he needed the reminder.

Maybe a little bit....

He wasn’t looking as cowed and serious as he should be at the moment, staring up at Megatron in wide eyed wonder.

————- ———————

“I *was* out of line. You were right.” Bumblebee mumbled against Optimus’ side sometime later that night.

However short lived this giant victory and the impossible high it’d given them was, they intended to savor it. Make even poorer decisions than spilling their sparks in front of a bunch of war mechs they’d hardly gotten to know in any civilized way in the quiet of their rooms. Together, preferably.

That meant apologizing.

Bee stared at the wall, finding it easier to speak his truth without having to look at the other.

“You shouldn’t have said that slag about Professor Sumdac, though.”

Optimus tensed against him.

“Yeah... that was awful. I shouldn’t of... I need to apologize to Sari.”

“Later.” Bee hummed, too tired to leave Optimus’ room to seek out his own berth. He nestled closer to his side instead.

This moment wasn’t terribly common, but was frequent enough to be labeled as one of those soft civilian luxuries that Bumblebee found deeply depressing Blitzwing said war types abstained from. He’d die without Prowl to cuddle and pester at awful hours of the night cycle after playing a really scary level on Cutter.

“I’m not done talking about how awesome what happened was....” Then added thoughtfully.

“...Or apologizing.”

“No more.” Optimus assured him, nudging against him, attempting to reserve himself from pushing too strongly.

Bumblebee didn’t let him retreat into himself, though, in his latest bout of guilt.

“Ok, ok. But you do know that I care about you, right?”

“I care about you, too. You gave me the courage to give the truce a try, despite all the odds against us. You just seemed so sure.”

‘And you listened?’ Bee wanted to laugh, but when hadn’t Optimus listened to his teammates making a serious suggestion? He couldn’t always put them into action, but he did do his best to listen.

So instead, Bumblebee teased him.

“Oh? I did? Am I your muse, Bossbot?” Bee batted his lids, and Optimus snorted. Feeling emboldened by the other’s goofiness to nuzzle his little helm under his chin with a blue servo.

“When you’re happy, it’s hard not to find inspiration.” He murmured, clearly struggling with such openness.

Bee felt uncomfortably warm, but allowed himself to bask in the wonderful intimacy  this simple bonding with his cohort instilled. Feeling a familiar security in his spark under his leader’s protection.

“That’s an oof for me.” He muttered anyway.

Optimus perked.

“Is that...? That’s me-me culture stuff, right?”

“Oh, God, no. Prime, please don’t grow up to be like Ratchet.”

Optimus scowled over the top of Bee’s helm.

“Ratchet doesn’t tease me during bonding.”

“He doesn’t gush with you over tall, dark, and terrifying war machines, either.”

Optimus jolted, optics going wide. Too scared to pull away and broadcast his horror at having been caught. It was a little too true, regardless of how blatant a jab and lacking in substance it was *meant* to be.

Instead, they sat their silently, leaning against eachother and into the berth slab behind them. Pretending that neither one of them actually felt that way.

———————————-

End Part 1

I just want a computer, so I can make italics easier. These * hurt my eyes