#kuniwrites

[sparklingpax]

“Don’t be scared” with Optimus saying it to someone please

From this!! (Requests still open actually....^^'')

HIIII ok ok so, I'm not exactly sure if this was what you were looking for, but after ages of thinking and contemplating ideas, this popped into my head all of a sudden!! So....I hope you enjoy???

And of course, I am deeply sorry for the wait..............idk if it's even good at all *sobs* but I enjoyed writing it in the sense that it was like...something I needed to write. Something meaningful to me. So...yea.

-Set in canon

-there are DEFINITELY typos and weird stuff like that.....I'm really really sorry 😭 I'll see it at a later date when I do a read-through editing session days from now I bet 💀 anyways yea.

-We definitely needed more moments of Optimus interacting with the kids. He definitely would be like a gentle, comforting, fatherly figure idk

-Also touching on the HC I have & love, that the kids all think of the base as their home more than where they actually live.

....enjoy...?

///

Miko flicked a pencil to the edge of her desk, then back again, staring off into the distance. In front of her, one kid was passed out and snoring, and another two were trying to have a conversation made entirely of discrete (not really) gestures and facial expressions. The elderly teacher overseeing them was hidden behind a huge newspaper, and Miko wondered if, after this past half hour, he was even awake anymore. 

Bulkhead’s like, apparently too busy to come get me, so…I’m stuck here. 

The multiple calls she tried to make behind her physics textbook had all gone to voicemail, so she could only guess he was out on a mission or something at the moment. She sighed and abruptly swiped up the pencil, switching to tapping its point on the desk as she let her mind drift to other things. 

Like how boring detention already was, and how it was somehow even worse when she actually sat the full duration of it. 

It’s not fair! It’s not like I committed a crime–I even did the damn vocab test! What else do they want?!  

Another huff and she folded her arms, leaving the pencil alone on the desk. 

She could guess the teacher probably hadn’t appreciated her artistic endeavors on the back. Sure, it was a unflattering depiction of half the teacher in the school in unfortunate situations, but it was still funny, quite well-drawn, and deserved! 

A loud snore and the sound of folding paper sounded from the teacher’s desk. 

Is he…? 

Miko looked up at the teacher’s desk to see their overseer was in fact, dead to the world at present. His paper hung limply from his hand, jaw open just a little. 

Who wouldn’t be bored in a place like this? 

The other kids seemed not to notice or care, only one briefly blinking up at Miko, then putting their head down again. It didn’t matter if they shouted anyway, cause Miko made her way out quick. Grinning, backpack strap in hand, she slipped out into the hallways, and promptly bolted. 

As she jogged down the front stairs and into the sidewalk, she was glad to find no one in sight. With a triumphant laugh, she nodded to herself and resolved to simply hang around town until someone returned her calls. 

It couldn’t be too long, right? 

That meant her only job now was to keep busy until then. No biggie! She knew the town, had a couple dollars. 

It was about dinner time, anyway. 

Maybe Jack’s working his shift at that K.O. Burger place! I’ll go bother him while I get dinner, she thought, smirking. 

She turned and practically skipped down the sidewalk. 

///

‘The number you have dialed is not currently in–’

Miko jammed the ‘end call’ button with her thumb, swallowing. 

The sky was no longer a pinkish blue hued with orangey glow, but now a thick tarp of navy and black. The moon was not out tonight, and everything was closed. 

As she exhaled, Miko's breath formed soft white shapes in front of her face, before delicately drifting up and fading.

“Eighth time,” she muttered, huffing sharply. “Pick up, dammit.”

It was something of a mix of both frustration and apprehension stiffening her motion. She felt her heart pounding louder and louder with every passing moment, her mind just barely keeping itself at bay. 

Deep breaths. Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in…..

He’s not coming. He’s not picking up. Bulkhead forgot. He…

No, he couldn’t. That was irrational. 

She started to shift weight from one side to the other, staring at her phone, then the open road in front of her. Miko opened her phone again, thumb hovering over the keypad for a moment before her hand fell to her side and she thrust her gaze to the barren sky above. She tried again to breathe deeply. 

He’s busy. They’re busy.  

She slid it into her coat pocket, but kept her hand in the pocket, gripping the device. Somehow, that seemed to calm her nerves a small amount. The jitters making her movements so sudden seemed to lift, only by a little. Uneasiness still hovered its fingers around her, as if to strike again when she least expected it.

It’s only 2 am. I can manage. Why do I care?

The sound of a voice shouting in the distance followed by a loud clang gave uneasiness its chance almost instantly. 

With a groan, Miko felt her bones ache with fear and her breath grew so short her stomach started to hurt. Dreading the loss of her cheap but delicious dinner, she backed away from the road and leaned against the brick wall of some antique shop before sinking to a crouch. 

She found herself trying to keep a relatively flat look on her face, as if aiming to maintain some composure. 

But she was alone. Why did it matter how she looked? 

Her situation wasn’t impossible—probably a lack of communication on different accounts; Jack hadn’t been at the burger place, so he was probably busy somewhere. She was supposed to go home with her host family after detention, but…well, that was the past. And now, no one would pick up, not even let her leave a message. 

What if something had happened? And then, what would it be? 

Calm down, Miko. You can’t act like this. You’ve seen zombie-cons and the guts—cables?—pulled right outta guys Bulkhead fought. You’ve almost been killed, crushed…you’ve been in the dark, you’ve been alone before! 

But perhaps that was it, she realized, dropping her head and clenching her fist methodically—open and closed, open and closed—sucking in shaky breaths, trying to calm down. Trying to steady it all out, while her mind seemed to bump up the speed to the max. 

Maybe it was too much all the time, all at once, disregarding the part of her that had already had enough when Miko thought to push on. Put on a laughing face, brush it off like it didn’t matter—nothing mattered. 

That was what she always did, right? Wasn’t consistency important? Was she a liar for being so scared? It wasn’t exactly being alone in the dark that scared her. Not even being in this sketchy part of town by herself…

Where are they? Where is everyone? 

Maybe it was also the suddenness of this fear, the seeming culmination of so much she hadn’t quite considered as deeply—every single thread of thought demanding her attention and her body simply ceasing proper coordination and control. Something she hadn’t anticipated because it was always there in the background, but kept tightly under lock and key. 

Where was the lock and key? Why was this happening? The questions only darkened the feelings bounding about inside like sparks of electricity. 

The darkness and emptiness of the town seemed to press at her, tightening her nerves and causing her arms and legs to feel like jelly all at the same time. She was shaking. 

And regardless of how much her sensible, conscious mind reminded her that if she was alone, it meant alone, her subconscious breathed over and over, over and over….

Someone’s there. Someone’s coming. Someone…no control…you have no control of what’s coming for you…no one remembered you, did they? 

Then, as if fate’s answer to the question, she heard a horn honk down the road. 

At first, her heart skipped a beat—sudden noises in the silence when she was having a low moment weren’t so helpful—but her mind registered instantly. 

And as quickly as it had overtaken her, the fear left, and she felt the shaking in her body intensify—probably out of muscle exhaustion this time. 

Suddenly, the cold ache left her, replaced with a trickling warmth. Maybe it was relief, or something else…Miko wasn’t sure. She watched the semi draw closer, letting her mind go blank for a bit. 

The vehicle rolled down the road rather quietly, coming to a gentle stop across from her, letting off a little hiss as the lights dimmed a bit. Miko could make out that it was indeed, the Autobot leader himself, even though something in the back of her mind had already let her know it was him.  

Optimus…what’s he doing out here? 

She could barely stand, swallowing again before pushing off the ground and unevenly making her way across the road and to the door to the passenger’s seat. She felt like she couldn't control her coordination as well as she’d like, but wasn’t too worries as much as glad to have a warm seat to sit in for now. 

“Miko….”

Optimus rumbled softly, gently, her name. He sounded as if he was going to say something, so she plopped down in the blue seat, waiting quietly. But he seemed to choose silence for the moment. 

After a moment, the headlights brightened and Miko felt the start of the engines. They began down the road, and looking out the window, Miko could see they were headed home—not her house, but home. 

She smiled, letting her body go limp in the seat, eyes wide open and trained on the outside view as it flitted by. Letting herself lie there as the hum of the truck filled the air, she dared not move or else she’d start shaking again. 

Drowsiness lurked in the background somewhere, but before that, she was curious. 

“Ne, Optimus,” she murmured, shifting her gaze to the front window. There was not a soul on the road, only Optimus’s headlight illuminating the navy dark surrounding them. “You were gonna say something, right?”

A pause. 

“I was.” 

“What was it?”

“Well…” Optimus seemed to be searching for words, then spoke again. “You were alone tonight.” 

“Yeah…no one would pick up. Did you get my calls?”

“No,” the mech responded. “But I did realize your absence. Rafael and Jack were having a…schoolwork review session–”

Study session.

“—and the others are scouting a mine in another country.”

That’s why he didn’t pick up. Something funky with phone regions, I bet. 

“Ratchet was otherwise engaged. I asked the boys what had happened to you that you were not there, and they mentioned you were in…detainment again.”

“Yea, detention,” Miko sighed. “Ditched it early though.”

Optimus was silent again, so this time, Miko thought to fill the silence. 

“Hey, Optimus? I’m…sorry if I made you worry,” she murmured, dropping her gaze a little. “I was doing alright…woulda found a way home or something.”

“Miko,” his voice sounded serious. “Are you certain of that?”

The teen thought to answer, then pressed her lips together, unable to respond again. What would she have done if he hadn’t come by? 

“I sense you are troubled,” Optimus continued more softly. “Are you alright?”

Miko felt a flash of indignance, so she masked it with a scoff. “Are you kidding? I’m always good!” But her tone wavered a bit, and she felt herself grow smaller in her seat. But she continued. “What makes you ask?”

“Miko…” 

“Yeah?”

“To answer your initial question, we Autobots are always worried for you three. We realize you are individuals, and that you have time and again proven strong in the face of terrifying circumstances. You especially show much strength.”

There was something else to that, so Miko waited, quietly. 

“You show so much strength that…I feel as if perhaps you carry too much inside.”

Miko swallowed, feeling emotion well up inside her. Not fear, not apprehension…something stronger, deeper…raw. 

“Miko, you were alone tonight. We were unaware of what you needed. For that, I am deeply sorry.”

“N-nah, it’s not…”

“It is. Did anything happen to you?”

“No, I just…” she found herself speaking without thinking. “Seemed like…everyone forgot about me. I’m used to being alone though, I guess…”

“You are not alone, Miko.” Optimus spoke with firm gentleness that seemed to level out the feelings threatening to bubble over the brim. She quickly looked out the window to her side again. “I respect what you wish to tell or not tell me. But something tells me, you were afraid tonight.”

She bit her lip. 

Someone noticed. Someone saw. 

But it was a relieved voice that whispered in her mind. She remained quiet, biting her lip harder. 

“Are you alright, Miko?”

She knew what the question really meant. 

“I was…scared, like…” she swallowed, steadying her breathing as best as she could. A tear slid down her cheek, which she quickly rubbed away. “...I dunno, something…I didn’t know what was happening, it was so…strong. So…bad…”

“I know well the emotions you speak of.”

“R-really?”

“Yes. I know it well even now. Especially now.” 

He deals with so much too…but he’s so…well, I guess we all put up some face. I laugh, Optimus shuts down…whatever keeps the monster at bay. 

“Don’t be scared, Miko,” he finally said gently and simply—yet with so much intent. “You are never alone.”

Miko inhaled sharply, as if debating to control it or let it happen…but only for a moment. She exhaled heavily, her face twisting as she started to cry quietly. But even as she sobbed, a smile peaked through, shimmering in her eyes. 

She needed to cry, she realized. Not light tears of stress, but also the tears that she had pent up every time her heart had pounded so hard her bones hurt. The tears she pent up when she did cry and then bite her tongue to swallow them up. And it was alright. 

It was freeing. 

And as if reading her mind, Optimus remained quiet. But she felt his presence–more than simply knowing he was there. They didn’t really need to say much more, and spent the last of the ride to HQ in silence. 

Because even if Optimus wasn’t using the same words she’d use, she knew what he meant. She always knew what the others meant to say. Robot or human, alien or not, Miko could feel it. 

She knew that he wasn’t ordering her to can it, like she knew she ordered herself to. 

‘Don’t be scared,’ or rather…‘it will not win. You will.’ 

I will. 

///

#transformers #tf #tfp #transformers prime #fanfic #fanfiction #transformers prime fanfiction #miko nakadai #optimus prime #writing #writing stuff #kuniwrites #asks #requests #fic requests #ask game

[sparklingpax]

“Are you always this shy?” With Optimus and Ratchet? (Forgive me if I'm doing this wrong, I've only been following you for a moment)

From this (requests are still open btw! I need these moments to take my mind off irl stuff ngl qwq)

HELLO HI THIS IS VERY OVERDUE!! (as are the other ones, which will be posted very soon, I promise o///o) Also no worries at all, you did this right!! :D

I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness rn, because no one should have to wait this long jsddjsdj TwT

I know it's been a long minute, but I hope you enjoy my blog and all my shenanigans (even at least somewhat ahah ^^'')

-Im deeply sorry for typos and other such grammatical errors 😭

-I went with a sort of "early war" kind of thing, like right after Ratchet becomes a part of Optimus' team. (Not sure this is probably not even how this would have played out or did, but I am taking ARTISTIC LISENCE and doing my own version of events....idk ;w;)

-Also, it is a bit short ;///; sorry....hope you like it tho!

-Set in aligned continuity/tfp

-i guess its a lil bit of optiratch ya know? just a lil (for my own enjoyment ^w^)

///

“Ratchet.”

“Don’t.”

“But the team wants to–”

“Well they’ll have to do whatever it is another time–I’m too busy!!” the shorter mech snapped, cutting him off. He quickly reached into his toolbox and fumbled to grab something. Optimus took a step closer, trying to peer over his shoulder, curious.

“What are you working on?”

“A–uhm–this set of some…very difficult formulas!” The medic stammered, not yet turned to face him. “I-I need time, some quiet…I…I’m simply far too busy to do anything right now!” 

He finally set his grip on an object, looking over his shoulder at Optimus as he brandished a wrench and waved it demonstratively. But as he held the wrench, Optimus noticed the tip of the object quivering in Ratchet’s grip. 

After another sharp huff, he turned his back to Optimus again, leaning over the table, which was covered in rust and dirt. He set the wrench down quietly and stood still. 

Optimus wondered if he was going to explain the wrench at all, or…

“...Alright, I’m…” Another sigh and pause. Optimus waited patiently. “I’m…not exactly busy with…formulas, I’m just…well, it’s just–I…I don’t…”

“You’re…nervous?”

Ratchet made a sound that seemed to agree. 

Optimus fought the urge to giggle at how this was kind of cute–he didn’t want the medic to feel any more embarrassed than he probably already did. Instead, he strode closer to him, resting a gentle servo on his shoulder. 

“I understand. You may take as long as you need before you go out and meet them,” he said quietly. 

Ratchet ducked his head. 

“But I feel bad about…” 

Optimus shook his head, looking down at him with gentle regard. 

“There is nothing to feel bad about, Ratchet. It would cause you discomfort if you went to meet everyone now, and I know neither you nor I would enjoy that. And, they are your new team as of now, so they will be around for quite a while.”

Ratchet finally looked back at Optimus, seeming less bothered than he had been–just a little more relaxed. Optimus was glad, smiling back at him. 

“Well then…” Ratchet murmured, moving to return to looking at the table. “I do have some work to do…”

He jumped right into it, and Optimus simply watched, leaning against the table. He eyed a light flicker above them briefly, then let his gaze wander to the faded papers tacked to the walls. It wasn’t really a medical room, but it was the best available to them in their situation. 

Squinting, he could see even more that these posters must not have been Ratchet’s–being advertisements for a shop of some kind, or pictures of a musical artist he was sure neither of them knew… 

“You know…” Ratchet said quietly, breaking the silence, “...I do want to meet the team. I’ll need to get to know them in the event of injuries and such, anyway…”

Optimus tilted his head, still looking at the contents of the room. 

“There are many of us in this unit. Is it that there are too many at once?”

“...that would be it.”

“I suppose I never saw you with big groups unless you knew everybot or were giving presentations back on Cybertron,” Optimus remarked. “Are you…always this shy?”

“Well it's not exactly shyness, but I believe you know what I mean as…” Ratchet chuckled little. He put down his tools again and looked up to find Optimus staring back at him. He remembered the eyes that looked back at him when they were in Ratchet’s old dorm at university, as he worked on a project for class, and Orion came just to watch…to keep him company. 

Those same eyes that still looked to him with interest and curiosity. 

Oh Orion…some things never change. 

“...you were too, once,” he said finally, looking back to his desk and attempting to focus and get back to work. But he stopped at a touch on his hand, staring back up at his friend. Optimus had a somewhat melancholy look pooled in the back of his gaze. 

“And I still am. But as a leader…I have to…work around it.” 

Ratchet leaned forward and into Optimus, who wrapped his arms around him in a gentle embrace. 

“I know, Optimus,” he whispered. 

He silently resolved to go see the others later that very night. If Optimus could do it, well…then he wanted to as well.

Thank you, Optimus.

///

#asks #kuni talks #kuni answers #kuniwrites #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #writing #writing stuff #transformers #transformers prime #tf #tfp #transformers stuff #maccadam #tfp fanfic #transformers prime fanfiction #optimus prime #ratchet #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #for fun #requests #writing request

[sparklingpax]

"Would this make you feel better?" and of course Masterforce for the ask game if you'd like 😄

From this prompt list; yes, requests are still open :3

HII!! I hope this works :D

///

Quick A/n:

-SORRY theres probably typos/mistakes here and there, this was 100% written on my phone; I finally had a good idea for this after two different tries at a story and then being busy with this sudden art project I've taken upon myself to complete hehe (ok unrelated but worth mentioning maybe?? idk--) anyway so. then I tagged along a trip to the park and had like an hour so...here it is ^^''

-set in canon! (insert my usual disclaimer abt what I mean by that ig)

-also, if anyone reading hasn't watched masterforce/did but might have forgotten, it's eluded to the fact that Cab can understand animals in the actual series! Even in a character song!! So...I slipped that in here briefly...just an fyi. I'm not making it up 👍💫

-Writing Hawk being like a kind parental figure is my favorite thing. Dad Hawk Supremacy™ (actually canon)

-Im gonna just put a slight tw for mentions of animal death. Nothing horrible, but it's part of the premise here so...yeah.

-uhhhhhhh.....thats all! Enjoy, I hope...

///

It was all a blur, honestly. 

And when Cab had finally returned to the cavern again…it was too late. 

A shrill wail of horror went up into the air. 

…

"Now, that won't account for irregularities with the alloy when put in contact with the new engine itself." 

"It hasn't been tested to that level of heat yet?" 

"Not quite. So to that, I'd actually like to suggest placing—" 

A loud crash sounded from down the hall, causing Hawk, Ranger, and Diver all to snap upright. Startled, they hesitated to carry on, exchanging looks instead. 

The silence hung for a moment longer before there was another loud noise.

This time, worry had immediately seemed to light Hawk's gaze, and he swiveled sharply in the direction of the door. Something tugged at him to leave the room and see what was up.

Perhaps he couldn't call it "parental" instinct, but it was somewhere in that ballpark.

It had struck him, suddenly, that he hadn't seen Cab at all today.

Though perhaps...this time-sensitive discussion should be concluded properly first...?

But the cloud of worry had already formed, beginning to rain immediately. Hawk was now unable to refocus on the discussion at hand, or the idea of it up again.

Was he maybe...jumping to conclusions?

As if to ask their permission, Hawk glanced at the other two, at the papers, then the door again.

Picking up on this, Diver and Ranger looked to one another and gave a short nod of agreement.

"We can pick this up later," Diver prompted as he reached over and started to fold the blueprints back up. Ranger rounded the table, tapping a stiffened Hawk on the shoulder gently. 

"This isn't so urgent," he agreed quietly. "Let's go see what's up."  

Hawk nodded firmly, gratefully, and took that as a cue to leave the room. He tried to walk out quickly, but found himself almost jogging instead. He figured the others would simply follow, so he didn't think to wait.

Emerging to the hall, he was met with the sight of Shuta's head peeking out from one of the rec rooms. He seemed to be debating stepping out or remaining in place, lip pursed in thought. Catching sight of Hawk and the others, however, seemed to shift his mind to decision, and he scampered up to the three.

"You heard it too?" He asked, blinking up at Hawk as they headed down the corridor. In response, Hawk gave a sharp nod.

They rounded the bend, seeing up ahead a shaft of yellowish light spilling from the crack in the door to the kitchen. Since it was usually the case that doors remained closed when rooms were in use, Hawk deduced that must be where the noise had originated from. 

So far, there hadn't been any other noises, except—

Drawing nearer to the door, Hawk held out an arm and motioned the others to stay back. He leaned forward a bit, listening intently.

At first it was hard to make out, but the sound registered immediately after a couple seconds. 

It was a small, wavering voice….

….crying?

Hawk felt a twinge in his stomach at the realization. 

He immediately darted forward and to the threshold of the open door. 

And immediately, felt his heart drop to his feet. 

Before him was Cab, knelt on the floor, body wracked with each wordless sob that escaped him. His head was bowed, curled over something he was holding. He seemed unaware of Hawk as stood there, or of the others as they slowly shuffled in, gathering behind him. 

Hawk took another step forward, peering closer to see what Cab was holding. He felt himself stiffen upon realizing.

Oh, Cab...

There was a small puppy in his arms, lying haggard....and limp.

Hawk eyes shut for a moment, turning his head downward. He knew without even having to ask or check...its little soul was no more. 

No one dared utter a word.

A weighted air hung about the room, as the depressing sight took away whatever any of them could have mustered to say for the moment. 

Hawk then listed his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the others, giving a sharp shake of his head. They seemed to get the message. 

"I'll...get the simulation prep started, Hawk," Diver murmured quietly, ducking out of the room.

Meanwhile, Ranger had put a gentle hand on Shuta's shoulder.

"Hey, why don't we go finish that program you were trying to show me the other day…"  

He ushered the boy in the other direction with a forced, light chuckle. Shuta didn't say a word back, eyes cast to the ground as he went along and out of the room.

Hawk watched them go for a moment, then turned back to Cab, his heart wrenching the more he regarded the sight. Weighing whether it would be more helpful to ask about what happened or simply remain as a presence, he drew closer until he stood right over Cab. 

I could never presume to understand how much this hurts for him...

Finally opting for the latter, he knelt carefully and slowly, until they were eye-level, and then said nothing for a couple beats. 

Hawk shifted his gaze to regard the animal, its fur matted slightly and its frame thin. Something didn't look right with its body, its bone structure…Hawk looked away again. It hurt too much. 

It was their mission on this Earth to protect those who could not defend themselves. 

To respect and preserve all life. 

To save it. 

And yet…we must still witness death. 

Then, finally, Cab slowly began to raise his head, revealing a tear-streaked face, and an expression of such raw anguish that it made Hawk's breath catch in his throat. There was a look in the boy's eyes that he'd not yet seen. 

For a moment, he almost panicked, not knowing what he should say or do...

Calm down. You just need to be someone there for him.

Hawk stared back at Cab, his own eyes shining with grief. Having known the animal or not, Hawk did regret its passing. 

Wait for Cab to tell you what he needs, if he needs anything. 

And finally, he did. 

"I-I…um…" he reached up to rub at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. He took in another shuddering breath before turning his gaze back to Hawk. 

"...I f-found her on the w-way back from, uhm…t-the...store…." 

Every word wavered with the emotion he seemed to be fighting to hold back. It was like mere sticks holding back a flood. 

Hawk simply nodded slowly, patiently. He gave such a calm and gentle expression, Cab felt his breathing begin to even out. 

It was alright, the boy remembered.

In this place, it would be alright. 

He took another breath and continued. 

"S-she was probably a stray, cause...she was just there...starving on that sidewalk, w-walking under people's feet, so…I took her to a…s-safer place..." 

Cab squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head again. His shoulders began to shake with the beginnings of another wave of sobs.

"I should've never left her alone!" He exclaimed, voicing rising. "I-I was just…trying to get her something to eat, cause...cause I didn't have anything w-with me…" 

Hawk reached out, gently placing a hand on Cab's shoulder.

"It's my fault she's gone," he whispered, brokenly. The choked noise he made, in an effort to hold back his cries, hurt to hear. But Hawk knew it was necessary for Cab to take his time, let it out as he needed, uninterrupted.

"I-I heard her saying she was hungry so I left...I never shoulda left…" he repeated himself, seeming to clutch the animal closer. 

It was with a heavy heart that Hawk realized the first thing to help Cab would be...distancing him from the animal. But for the moment, he simply continued to pat Cab's shoulder, a calming and rhythmic motion that...seemed to be helping.

And finally, Hawk decided to speak. 

"Cab," he murmured gently. "You didn't do anything wrong." 

"But—"  

"..."

"Cab," his tone was still as gentle, yet with more firmness. The boy quieted, as if focusing on Hawk's words before he could start to panic again.

"I know you might...feel that you were too slow in getting this animal what it needed."

"I'm...so sorry, Cab. I'm so sorry you went through this….it hurts and you feel at fault…but don't forget that you were trying to help. That's the most important part of all this." 

He spoke softly and evenly, holding Cab's gaze. 

"All those people in the street, who didn't even think to get someone who could help, that was their choice. You are not at fault for the omission of others." 

One should not be made to feel guilty over what's beyond their control. 

Cab shifted a bit, his breathing having evened out. He seemed in consideration of those words, as if the thought had never once crossed his mind.

Considering the present state of the animal, Hawk surmised it had been beyond saving when Cab had found it. He only hoped he could get Cab to understand...he shouldn't hold himself personally responsible for the unfortunate inevitable.

But Hawk didn't exactly…know how to say that without it sounding insensitive in one capacity or another. Or at least, he was sure of that much.

Hawk considered saying more, but abandoned the thought as quickly as he'd had it. He ultimately figured that, for the moment, letting the words sink in was a better idea. 

And that was the last thing Cab needed at this moment. 

What he needed, was quiet. Gentleness. Patience.

So they sat with the silence for a little bit, listening to distant sounds from outside the room, and out the window. 

Hawk found his gaze drifting to the objects that had fallen to the floor, accounting for the crash earlier. Judging by their positions, it was likely the result of Cab having stumbled into the room without looking. 

Honestly, how could he with what he was preoccupied with? Hawk nodded to himself. Of course, he'd get to cleaning it up later. 

As for—

"Uhm…Hawk?" 

Hawk jolted a little at his name. He'd gotten lost in his thoughts, he realized. He centered his gaze back on Cab.

"Yes?" 

"Can…we…bury her?" 

With something of a sad smile, Hawk felt his heart wrench. It was a sight so bittersweet that Hawk felt tears well up in his own eyes. 

"Would...this make you feel better, Cab?" 

He nodded firmly. He reached up and rubbed at his tears again, now probably dried a bit. He then looked back up.

The smile he gave Hawk was as sad as his own.

"Then...let's do it."

"I think..it'd make her feel better, too."

Hawk gave the boy's shoulder another pat before they both stood up. 

Cab smiled, his eyes shimmering with something complex. Somewhere in there, though, they shone with peace.

A single tear slid down his cheek, as he looked at the puppy again, then back at Hawk.

And Cab nodded. 

///

#super god masterforce #ask game #kuniwrites #kuni talks #kuni answers #asks #fic requests #fanfic #transformers #transformers stuff #tf #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨ #transformers super god masterforce #masterforce #maccadam #writing #writing stuff #hawk #cab #ranger #diver #waverider #shuta #anime #transformers anime #super god masterforce fanfiction #btw! thank you for the req!! <3

[sparklingpax]

Picture this: some earlier battle, maybe on another planet or something, idk...it's just Mega and Giga.

The pair left their ship w the rest of their group at the time (everyone split up into pairs and went different ways) and headed off to investigate the surroundings of this strange, unfamiliar place. It wasn't listed on any maps...but they need to find something, as they're low on resource for the ship, and they've stopped on this planet as it was the closest landmass to them from their original course through the stars.

But now, they're mid-fight, fending off a group of hostile beasts. They're not exactly struggling, there's just a lot of them, and they're being careful how they strike the life-forms, having wordlessly decided to render them unconscious rather than engage in killing, just in case on this foreign planet, they were important.

Finally, Mega hits the arm of one and throws it into another, rendering the two beats to an unconscious pile of fur and bones, quiet for the moment. She looks up to see where Giga is, and finds him sitting cross-legged, further ahead, near the edge of the mossy overhang they'd been cornered to when first pursued by the beasts. The helmet of his armor sits beside him, its time-damaged qualities showing even from the distance. His braided locks cascade gently down his back, touching the tips of the soft, green moss. He's completely still, seemingly captivated by something beyond Mega's line of view.

With a smirk, she wonders what he's looking at, striding up the gentle rise. Drawing to his side, she ducks her head to remove her helmet and turns to the side. With a hand on a hip, still catching her breath from the fight, she blinks down at him.

Warm light defines with soft certainty the lines in Giga's face, a soft shimmer playing faintly in the depths of his irises. It catches sharply on the rims and curves of his armor, turning the silvers to white, and casting sharper shadows behind the areas of glow. He seems at some kind of profound peace and wonder, not a strange expression by any means for a being like him, but rather, a little more rare.

What with a war and all, and his position of leadership with her, the two are often quite tense and stern.

Mega then turns her eyes at last and stares outwards. She quickly understands his silent fascination.

A vast display of flora and fauna, tinted orange and gold with the setting sun splays out grandiosely below and beyond the overhang.

It seems to go on forever.

In the distant sky, a strange flock of flying creatures make their way forward, casting up their faint, beastial cries.

The soft shimmering of stars seems to gently poke through a cloudy haze further above them, like diamonds behind glass. It seems the night presses closer, yet not close enough for now. It is a vague, yet inviting shine that warrants a closer look, but with the state of their ship, Mega settles to wait until night to look again.

It is too beautiful for words, she agrees, gently kneeling to the ground and hugging her legs close to her chest.

As she moves, the sound of her armor clanking against itself makes Mega starkly aware of its cold weight against her skin, and she feels the urge to chuckle cynically.

They are still at war. Even in this interlude of time while their ship traverses the stars without a target to engage and destroy, without orders to follow beyond making it to their next destination, they wear armor. They fight, or prepare for the possibility.

Nature and its beauty waits in its tranquil existence for the world to follow it to peace, and it is either left untouched by conflict of life-forms, or decimated as a byproduct, though innocent all the way.

Even the beasts they had fought, knew nothing beyond the abstract understandings of the laws of their own nature, and they waged a fight, not a war. They were not to blame.

She instead lets out a small sigh, realizing then that her breathing has finally leveled again.

Turning again, she finds Giga looking at her, now, and she smiles. He smiles, more with his eyes than anything else. In the way that he does, which she knows well.

She knows also they share many ideals, and he probably knows what she's thinking. In fact, he probably thinks it too.

As if the warmth of the burning star setting before them had slowly seeped into her bones, she feels a surge of something mellow and equally as warm blossom inside, and inches closer to Giga, resting herself against his form. Immediately, she feels him relax against her, and they continue in their silence, simply staring, curled gently into one another's warmth.

Perhaps they will be interrupted by a comm-call, or one of the other investigation teams will find them.

But for now, they rest.

In the fading sunlight of this strange planet, on a mossy overhang, feeling less and less the cold metal against their bodies, they rest in the arms of Mother Nature.

#man idk what this is 😭 it got away from meeeee #whatever I was thinking about them so here you go #drabble typed on my phone while I wait for my computer to finish updates #i had 'K' by Mac Demarco playing in my head the entire time writing this and. even now. sorry #giga #mega #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨ #masterforce #super god Masterforce #transformers #transformers stuff #transformers super God Masterforce #this is NOT the thing from the poll that is still in the works #kuniwrites #kuni rambles #writing #writing stuff #tf #<3 #random #maccadam #anime #transformers anime #uhhhh....idk what else to tag have a nice day guys #💗✨

[sparklingpax]

In Relativity

A/n:

-I could not, for the life of me, figure out a better title. You get that. Not even sure if that's what I mean and I'm so sorry. But I am also not taking suggestions

-being absolutely serious, a good 90% of this was written during my health class and/or lunch periods in which I wasn't hungry.

-i am so sorry for typos and grammar stuff I probably fucked up, please please try ignore it if you see it, I'll fix it eventually 😳

-this is so incredibly long, I'm realizing. It's like 30+ pages...sorry--

-a few specific details I'd like to point out:

no, this is not 110% accurate to Masterforce canon, tho I tried my darndest. Part of the reason is lack of clear answers about certain questions I have or limited access to sources that would help me figure out details of their pasts more accurately. The other reason is that I'm also actively choosing not to adhere to some details because I was ultimately writing for fun and experimenting with tone and how I perceive these characters so...do not lecture me about something I screwed up, I am literally just vibing ok

This is still set in Masterforce canon, however. This has nothing (I repeat, nothing) to do with any of the marvel stuff/American comic stuff that involved these characters. It's my understanding that the versions of these characters in Masterforce are their own separate entity to the comic stuff, I am trying to stick only to the anime and stuff connected to that. so....yea

It is my headcanon that I will absolutely keep that the Pretenders have in their files/any technical stuff their "full names" (e.g: "Cloudburst"), but refer to each other with their nicknames (going back to that example, "Phoenix"). It's like, they use both names whenever and don't mind either way. Hence......that.

I wanted to write something about Landmine, literally that was it. I guess overall I'd call it semi-Landmine-centric....Idk but I enjoyed it, he's a cool dude 👀

this is in fact, where i finally reveal myself as a person who also Lowkey ships Lander/Diver and also the idea that they have this...very complicated relationship with each other, which is why they've never really gotten together....I hc that they actually do finally get together at some point during the events of Masterforce (which I also, really want to write). Yes, this is very similar to them in my AU except it's not as complicated as the one in canon. If that makes sense 😳 Also, before you come for my head, it is a healthy relationship in the sense that there has never been any malice between them, and no instances of causing the other serious pain in any way. They like each other a lot, but both don't really know...how to go about it. Idk y'all but ykw I know what I mean. 

I tried so hard with terminology here but my dumb ass doesn't know anything about tech or aircrafts or whatever so...deal with it but don't point it out I'll evaporate--

Upon much consideration, I decided to end it somewhere like, before events of masterforce. I'd say a couple years maybe?? Like 15?? (So tha puts us at 2005, which as I'm writing this omg that's my birth year oop--) So just. assume stuff happened and...following will be the other canon stuff....i guess o//o

So...yea, that should be everything I wanted to mention!

Enjoy (? Or don't? ;w;)....I wrote this for fun & I kinda liked it I guess, so here I am sharing it...lmk what you think if you want, please keep it positive, I get so extremely nervous sharing my writing sdjdsjsdj 😳

...um...so...t-thanks 🥰

That’s what Landmine had been told the first day of Cybertronian Military Academy. 

///

Above all else, a good spark stands for justice, protects all life, and does what’s right. 

It was a phrase taught and repeated every day without fail, quickly memorized well before the end of first semester in that first year.

And when he’d entered Autobot ranks within mere weeks of his graduation amidst the start of the war, it was a phrase shouted to his unit by their commanding officer, only slightly altered this time. 

“Above all else, a good Autobot stands for justice, protects all life, and does what’s right.”

Yes, that was it. Just a slight change. 

But he always wondered if it meant to subconsciously induce very particular thoughts.

‘And if we Autobots do good, then the ones who aren’t us must be doing evil.’ 

To name a few of the supposed many, that was the Decepticons, the rogues, and the subspecies of the planet who didn’t feel inclined to participate in such a “selfish conflict,” as one commentator had put it during a newscast. They were the evil ones, preached the drill sergeants and captains.

The logical conclusion, as it could be surmised. No one said anything about moral. 

As for Landmine himself, he had no problem with “standing for justice,” however vague that was. Considering the lack of any attention, it seemed he was in line with that value, not standing out from the rest and all. 

The case was the same with “protecting all life.” After all, that was a clearer command, and obviously, the noble thing to do. Landmine liked his friends, nature, animals. Of course he’d stand to protect them. 

But for the last one, in the in-betweens to his drills and assignments, throughout all the years of his schooling and the time spent in the trenches of battles, he often wondered what it meant. To “do what’s right.” 

What was a…‘good Autobot’ anyway? 

He could recall the answers he’d received. 

“It means you follow orders,” one older bot spat, laughing. He had then put the ratty cigar back in his mouth and turned away. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

“A good Autobot?” Echoed a solemn youth, shining his shotgun. “Well its in the words you’ve just said! A good Autobot stands for justice, and they protect all–” 

…you get the idea.

“There are none,” was all a small-framed purple bot croaked, taking another sip from his oil can. He’d died on the field, screaming in agony, about one week later. 

And there were more answers, and Landmine still couldn’t figure out his own. But there were more pressing matters in his mind. Firstly, the matter of leaving this dull, doomed unit. 

See, he was a bot who enjoyed adventure, thought himself particularly good in battle. He was known for good one-liners, for his looks, and his sharp shots. This wasn’t the place for him. At the risk of being prideful and conceited, he often thought to himself, that this was no place for him to die. 

It was ugly, style-less, depressing, cold, damp…boring. 

For years, he hoped for more, and finally one day, he got it. 

“Hey!” 

…

“Oh yeah? Well you can take your attitude, and shove it up your tailpipe, Xy.” 

“‘Hey’ yourself, you're not part of this, so butt out you aft–” 

“Aft? Excuse me? I’ve a good mind to report you for that kind of slander and harassment!”

“What?! I didn’t slander you!! I'm not even harassing you, I just insulted you, but--but that's subjective, a-and I didn’t say –”

“Shut up, you two! There’s someone knocking.”

Landmine lifted his gaze from the book he was reading when he heard Klint shout for everyone to quiet down. 

As usual, it was another night in his section base–of the hot-head rookie Cinderflame being aggressive towards “two-word” Xy, and then somehow, getting into an argument with the self-important, self-declared “rulebook” of their subunit, Max. 

But the knocking at their door continued, louder this time. Cinderflame started to protest, and was quickly silenced a quick cuff to the back of his head by Max. 

Landmine closed his book very slowly and sat up in his bunk, watching as Klint quietly got up and headed to the door, activating his gun. Meanwhile, everyone else began to tense up, including Landmine. 

It wasn’t unheard of for mutinies to happen, for somebot to snap and go on a killing rampage, or for the enemy to have infiltrated and quietly taken command of a base. Any number of things could be behind the door, as it wasn’t normal to get a knock on the door at this hour of the night. 

But to their relief, the entity behind the door identified itself. 

“14-E, I order you–open up! Right now!”

Klint lowered his gun and sighed, more an annoyed sigh than a relieved one. They all knew who’s voice that was, and Landmine wanted–and was sure he had–no part in whatever was happening. 

‘Racker,’ mouthed Cinderflame in Xy’s direction, who rolled his optics and went back to organizing bullet shells. 

The other “rulebook” bot, except Racker was official, not self-declared. 

“I’ll mark you all for infractions!” He shouted in an attempt at an assertive tone, pounding unceasingly at the door. 

“I’ll mark you with my fist,” muttered Klint, trudging over. As he did so, Cinderflame snickered, then looked to Max, who was trying his best to keep a serious expression. Even he had no respect for the elected section head, but didn’t want to admit that. 

Well, I’m out, thought Landmine as he fell against his berth and opened his book again, hoping to get back to the story, detaching from the group.

He had no such luck, of course. 

The door opened at last with a high-pitched squeal of old metal, and the section head marched in, shouting for them to stand at attention. Below, Cinderflame gave the beginning of a groan, but it was cut short with the sound of someone elbowing him. 

 See, there was no such procedure in the rulebook, Landmine had discovered a while ago. But, there was also no point in raising that argument now. Begrudgingly, the group all followed the order and lined up at the door. 

Marching in stiffly, the grey-plated bot looked them up and down, a sharp look in his eyes. Then, he stated his business. 

Landmine was wanted in the unit Commander’s quarters.

For a moment, he considered it was some sort of elaborate prank, but that thought was quite fleeting. Jokes of that kind weren’t common around this sector, if at all. 

And if Racker was involved, well…

Doubt he knows what a joke is. 

“Well don’t stand there, move your metal hide!”

“Yes, sir!”

He felt side-eyed gazes of pity on him as he left the line. He felt them follow him as he walked out the door closely behind Racker, and into the barren, darkened clearing. But he was far more curious than worried. He could have easily run ahead to those quarters himself. 

Leaving Racker in the dust was quite easy, anyway. 

…

Racker, expression solemn and blank as ever, stopped at the white door and jerked his helm in the direction of the entrance, then folded his arms and turned forward, as if Landmine was no longer there. 

Go in. Alright. 

Landmine smirked to himself, then reached over and pushed the door open. 

Well. If I’m court-martialed or something, at least I’ll finally be put out of my misery. 

“Good evening, sir,” Landmine said, striding into the room. “You asked for me?” 

He’d never been in a commander’s quarters, and just taking one look at the state of it, he could infer why.

Something to do with the cleanliness of it, the quality of the tools in it…lower-ranking officers certainly had no place here, he could guess.

We belong in our cramped spaces, eating stale oil in our shared, low-rank misery. 

And finally, his optics had fallen on the commander himself, Swipecatch. 

Come to think of it, Landmine was sure he’d only seen the bot once. Or maybe he had a new paintjob? 

I’d like a new paintjob. 

He saluted and straightened his posture before the silver-blue-plated bot finally looked up from a manila-colored folder with messy scrawling and red stamps. It looked like it was important. 

It also looked like a processor-ache to decipher. 

“I did. You’re Landmine, right?” The commander spoke a medium tone, reaching for another paper on the side of the desk and picking up a slim, red pen.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a Pretender, are you not?”

"Alright," he murmured, beginning to write something, before glancing back up at the younger bot. “At ease,” he finally added, and Landmine was glad for it.

His gaze was immediately back on the paper as he started to write something into the blank lines. Some more silence followed, broken only by the sound of the pen against the paper, and Landmine watched as he swiftly filled out every blank space, signed his name, then looked back up again. 

“I am told I have such capabilities, sir.” 

“And have you been to training for it?”

“Only at a minimum level, as per my curriculum at the academy, sir.”

“Have you yet attained your third form?”

“I have not been provided any such opportunity up to this point, sir.” 

“Uh-huh…”

Swipecatch nodded, seeming to come to some kind of internal conclusion and writing something in the corner of the paper, before stamping the paper and folding it in half. Landmine began to wonder if he was being disciplined. 

“Soldier, you have been requested to join a special dispatch team made only of three other Pretenders like yourself.” 

Or…this. 

“Now, I can’t imagine you love this place enough to do this, but you do have the option to decline and remain at your post here, as it will be a very dangerous, long-term assignment, far from Cybertron and even this very sector.

“You four will only be provided one ship and instructions to report to us when asked, as we are not able to provide further resources. You will be sent into space to track Decepticon ships anywhere deemed fit to assign your team.”

He eyed Landmine up and down, who stood motionless, staring unwaveringly at his commander as he waited for him to continue. So he did.  

“Your...commander will be a recent academy graduate, Metalhawk. I am not at liberty to share anything more about him than this.” 

He shifted back in his chair, tapping his pen against the table.

“Since I take your…silence…to be an acceptance of this offer…” he said slowly, holding out the folded paper and letting Landmine take it. “I am giving you this now, so that you may board the next transport ship that comes in tomorrow, at first light.”

Landmine unfolded the paper a bit, catching sight of the orders written in fine print above the uneven writing of his commander. 

Previous commander, actually. 

“This is not a promotion, merely a new assignment that my higher-ups feel you are equipped for. There will also be a training period with your peers starting the moment you are all gathered at your launch site. Do you understand?”

“Fully, sir!”

“Alright, then. Dismissed.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

 He vaguely wondered if the sound the commander made after that was a laugh or a scoff. 

 Landmine saluted again, and left the room, clutching the paper in his digits, which had begun to vibrate with excitement. 

Suddenly, all the years of stale oil and bleak death around him, putting up with various groupings that never seemed to work out–with this doomed unit–seemed worth it. They’d been part of some plan, something Landmine had to go through for a while before this, before…

 Destiny. It has finally called my name. 

…

“Mighty lucky, aren’t you?” Klint remarked, leaning against the wall and watching Landmine stacking a couple books. 

Landmine simply looked up and grinned.

 “Stay alive,” Xy mumbled from his bunk, not even shifting position to look at the team as they gathered in the center of the space. 

 His inspirational capacities truly sway the spark. 

“Thank you, Xy. I’ll do my best.”

The mech raised a thumbs-up, making no further comment. 

“This is favoritism!”

“It is not. It’s the will of our higher command.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s unfair?”

“Shut your trap!” Max made a fist and took a step towards Cinderflame. “Questioning high command could be treason!”

“Oh shove off, you annoying glitch.”

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Yeah, I said it!" 

Klint groaned, facepalming slowly. Xy, in his bunk, put on some headphones and inched closer to the wall.

As usual, not even an hour after wakeup calls, and the two were at it again. But while Landmine conceded he wouldn't miss the unwarranted noise, he knew he would miss being able to laugh internally at their stupidity. 

Cinderflame kicked at the ground and glared at Landmine, who was closing his bag and picking it up. 

“We have to stay in the scrap," he muttered, "but he gets to be special! He gets to–”  

Knocking at the door quieted the room. 

In the brief silence, Landmine wondered how pompous he'd sound telling Cinderflame that he was, in fact, a special bot. 

He decided it wasn't worth the breath.

"It's time to go!" Came the voice from behind the steel.

Landmine stood tall, strapping the bag to his back and heading outside, without a second look to his scrappy unit, who no doubt would forget his existence quite soon. 

“Landmine?” The gruff, unfamiliar mech asked, looking at the Pretender. 

“That’s me.” Landmine then noticed the markings on the sides of his Autobot insignia, certifying him as a higher-ranking officer. “That’s me, sir,” he revised evenly.  

The officer narrowed his yellow-green optics, almost skeptically. Then he spoke again. “We’re driving a while, two hours at longest. You fueled yet?”

Landmine nodded, feeling his excitement start to build. 

Naturally, the place where any transports or supply ships landed would be miles and miles from any camp, for security reasons. Only superior officers would know supply drop-off locations. One could imagine such things were carefully coordinated long before a ship's arrival.

It was then that Landmine recalled he’d never once been on a supply run.

And, he guessed, he'd never find out what it was like. But he was cool with that.

“Right. Let’s move out, then. And stay close to me.”

That won’t be a problem, sir, Landmine thought, excited for the opportunity to spin his wheels. 

He also thought himself quite proficient in the art of speeding in style.

They both transformed, then sped to the entrance of the barracks. The drive took about an hour, quickly clearing miles of dry, uneven land, until at last, coming upon a ridge, the tip of a large, grey mass could be seen.

He could feel the vibrations of anticipation–of excitement!–growing as the mass became more and more like the shape of a transport ship–his ticket out of this forsaken place. 

Briefly, he began to wonder what the new team was like, what the ship and its resources provided would be, where they'd be assigned first…

Will I see my new commander’s face more than once or twice, whoever it is? 

And at last, they rolled down the sandy-brown rocks and onto the clearing, below the massive overhang of the ship. Landmine could hardly contain himself, and transformed as soon as his wheels came to a smooth halt. 

His superior officer also transformed, drawing up next to him, folding his arms again.

"Well. Off you go." 

He offered a brisk pat on the shoulder pad before trudging off to the left and calling out to one of the smaller mechs in the distance. Landmine reached into the bag strapped to him and fished out the paper before marching up the boarding plate. 

Landmine made it through the security check easily, papers identified, baggage approved, and he found the area in the cargo hold where he was to remain for the duration of the ride. 

“You will not leave this area until we have reached the designated location. We will use force if you cause any trouble. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir.”

A cargo hold… 

Well…it was a free ship ride during a war.

Landmine waited for the guard to leave, then walked over and sat down against the wall, well within the space he’d been told to occupy. He held his bag close to his chestplates, wondered if a full power-off would be a good idea, or if the ride would be too short for that. 

It seemed they weren’t going to allow him that information, either. 

 Ah, well, they’ll just have to wake me, then. Who knows if I’ll get a moment’s rest where we’re going anyway? 

 And with a quiet whirring, his systems slowed and he leaned his helm against the wall, slipping into a peaceful powerdown. 

…

It seemed the guard wouldn’t have to come and wake Landmine after all, as the ship came to a halt at its destination with a large thump that shook the ship down to the nails in the wallplates. 

Landmine was instantly ripped from his powerdown, jolted awake as he was thrown forward and then smacked back against the wall again when the vehicle finally halted. Rubbing his helm rather drowsily, he gave a small pout. 

Whoever’s driving should have their piloting license revoked. 

But he immediately recalled where he was and what he was doing, and the excitement returned, grasping his entire body in its hold. Quickly, he grabbed his bag and scrambled to his feet, waiting for someone to come and let him out. 

Be cool, be calm, you’re acting like a giddy sparkling. 

 Right. Steady motions, smooth words. Just as usual. 

And finally, someone did come. Actually, Landmine realized upon listening closer, there were…two sets of footfalls. He wondered if they were maintenance bots, or maybe a pair of workers come to unload the cargo hold, not permit Landmine to leave yet. 

But he remained still, listening to the footsteps, coming closer and closer until–

“He’s in here. You’re…assuming responsibility before he reaches the camp, sir?” 

It was the same guard from before. But then, the other bot with him spoke. 

 “Of course. You know higher-ups don’t give information about assignments, leading to accidents and the like.”

Odd. Was it one of his new teammates? 

He must be higher-ranking than me to have that guard call him “sir.” Or maybe I’m being moved up a few–no, wait. Swipecatch said this isn’t a promotion. But then, why–

Suddenly, the door opened with a weighty hissing noise, and the yellow light from the halls fell upon Landmine, who’d been getting used to the blue shadows of this cargo area. He immediately turned and saluted, watching as the guard walked in first, looked around, then stepped aside. 

In walked a yellow-plated bot, who took one look around, then put a servo on the shoulder pad of the guard. 

“You can go if you like. I gather you’ve more important things to get to, and I know the way off the ship.”

With a small smile and a salute, the guard turned and headed out the door. 

Landmine watched, somewhat amused, as the yellow mech leaned his head out the doorway, calling a thanks to the guard before turning back to Landmine with an awkward kind of smile. 

He actually thanked that guard. How interesting. 

Landmine returned the smile, a little more confidently. 

“Right. Um,” the bot took a deep breath and walked up to Landmine, offering his servo for a handshake. 

“My name is Metalhawk. I will be your new commander. Your other teammates are already aboard the ship.”

 Optics flitting from the outstretched servo to the earnest, blue optics staring back at him, Landmine was beginning to realize something. 

“I understand any previous commanders you’ve served under might have made a point on formalities, but I’m more interested in forming a good team than being addressed as ‘sir’ and the like. So, if you don’t mind, I hope we’ll get to know one another better with time.”

And that realization, was that this had been the right decision indeed, accepting this mission.

To be fair, anything would have been better than staying to fight in the scrapheap of a place he’d previously been.

With that…team of characters to live or die beside.

But Metalhawk seemed to be normal, perhaps even kind.

Plus, if his intuition wasn’t off, most captains, generals, and commanders were on the older side, but this bot…

He must be good to be a commander this young. 

Landmine took his servo and shook it firmly. 

“Glad to be serving with you, Hawk. I’m Landmine.” 

 At the nickname, Metalhawk gave a little grin, seeming to like it. 

 “Alright then, follow me.”

With a friendly chuckle, he headed for the door and immediately started to describe the other two bots Landmine was soon to meet. As they headed down the halls and out of the ship, he quickly learned that an he'd be in the company of two fliers–including his commander–and one sea-faring bot.

An interesting and even balance of alt-modes.

 “...and this is our ship.”

They stopped, and Landmine found himself before a huge mass of shining, silver and white metal. The daylight bounced off it gorgeously, edging the ship in glittery light. The green-blue windows looked as jewels, without a weathering mark or scratch in sight. 

The softer-toned blue highlights on the side plating of the vessel led his eye to the elegantly-painted Autobot symbol on the front hood. 

They might have been given the one ship only, but by Primus, was it a beauty.

Perhaps those old generals weren't all so selfish. 

It could have been some old prison ship with extra canons strapped to it, after all. 

This guy's lucky to be commander and score a ship like this. Something tells me Swipecatch wouldn't know what this is like, and he's been in the game longer.

He almost chuckled aloud before remembering where he was. 

A platform began to lower from the ship’s underside, which hung a little higher than their helms. Standing on it was a familiar face, and Landmine couldn’t help but perk up and exclaim–

“Diver!” 

“Lander!!” 

He felt a warmth surge through him. At last, he was seeing a familiar face again.

Someone he'd really thought, he'd never see again.

“‘Lander’?” Metalhawk echoed, taking a step up to the platform. 

The machinery gave a smooth whirring noise and the platform began to rise off the ground and back into the ship. Landmine could only laugh, letting Waverider answer for him. 

“We were arguing once,” the dark-plated mech said, leaning closer to Landmine. He spoke as if telling a weighty secret. “So I started calling him ‘Lander,’ like for his land-based vehicle mode. He retaliated, calling me ‘Diver.’”

“Because you have a water-based alt.”

“Exactly!”

“‘Diver’ is infinitely more creative, you have to give me that,” Landmine cut in.

“But ‘Lander’ is more direct!” Waverider protested. 

“It’s the most obvious kind of name!”

The three of them shared a laugh. 

That was most of the story, anyway. 

As the three headed down the dimly-lit hallway, Waverider kept talking. He started to tell their commander about their shared academy days, about the classes they took, the things they trained for. 

After a point, he couldn’t quite hear what the mech was talking about, as his mind began to wander.

Landmine recalled in flashes of memory, the moments he'd left out of the story...the days following that ‘argument,’ when they’d made up, and both their ‘insult names’ became somewhat like…pet names.

Calling in the hallways, covertly shifting places during inspections or exercises to stand with one another, sneaking into each other’s dorms, speaking in hushed tones as heat rushed through their systems, as if finally realizing all these feelings which had been for so long already there…

His spark skipped a beat as he gazed at the back of Waverider’s helm.

You never apologized for the way you left.

He tried to push those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to stir that up. 

But it never matters what the mind wants, the heart will always have its way. Guilt, too. Such a persistent thing, guilt–bent on collection of time spent contemplating the past. 

Sharp like a knife, hidden in shadows of daily happenings, its steely glint appearing every now and then, its blade cutting deep into a wound time has slowly tried to mend. 

Tried to mend. 

But I tried…

Landmine began to wonder again about the truest meaning of “do what’s right” was. If it meant for the other bot or for oneself. If being a “good autobot” carried over into matters of the mind and spark, hidden from the public eye, intimate and…

This is not the time. 

Right. Not the time. 

Rounding the bend, Landmine was surprised to find how quickly they’d made their way to the command center. Considering the direction they’d been going, he guessed it was somewhere near the center of the ship.

Landmine watched as Metalhawk stepped in front of Waverider and reached out to a smooth, blue panel next to the door. 

“In addition to the defaults being set up–which I need to fix–I’m the only one scanned for access right now,” Hawk said with a little smile. The door hissed and started to open. “But by tonight you’ll be scanned to the system as well.”

“And the door will open in seconds, not hours!” 

“Yes, Waverider, it will,” Hawk said, rolling his optics.

Landmine watched as the door finally slid to the side, revealing a polished room with pristine, white floors and walls. Along the sides were blocks of machinery he could only guess was what higher-ups meant when they referred to something as ‘state-of-the-art.’

Except this stuff is state-of-the-art. 

The front of the room had grooves that shaped a large window, wrapping around about half the side walls. Landmine guessed they were retractable for direct visibility during flight. 

We don’t even need the windows open to fly the ship. Magnificent. 

“During your pre-mission training together, you’ll be introduced on a basic level to all the machinery aboard this ship, and I will designate you to certain roles when the need arises.”

Everything sparkled in its modern, symmetrical beauty. It was all new, untouched, and would ideally provide the team with advantages in conflicts to come. At least, far greater than the shabby resources given to camps like the one from which Landmine had just departed. 

Far less could die…

“Yo!” 

Three helms turned as a red-plated mech rose from behind one of the monitor stations near the back of the room. He clapped his servos together to dust them off and stepped out from the station, waving. 

“That was quick,” Metalhawk commented, looking the walls up and down. It was hard to tell what was manually modified and what had been unchanged, but Landmine decided it was best to simply trust that all the devices in the room would preform well when they were needed.

“Well...this is Cloudburst,” he said, gesturing at the mech. 

Cloudburst gave a big grin. 

“He’s just fixed our door problem, and most of the settings on the ship’s machinery,” the commander continued, looking somewhat pleased. 

"He did!!" Waverider called from the open door. He'd immediately run back to test it out.

A mechanic of sorts, Landmine surmised.

And, after a few minutes of talking passed, he found his hypothesis correct. 

Cloudburst had gone to university for a bit, before the war, but it was cut short. He was lucky enough to be selected for a special team of machinery developers, but then, unfortunate to have been placed in a camp that was quickly overpowered by Decepticon forces.

“And I made my escape before my section was done in,” he said. “In the days following, I made my way to…”

As he was talking, Waverider leaned over to Landmine. 

“Phoenix,” he whispered behind a servo.  

Immediately, he caught on, smirking. 

“Flier?” 

He watched with some satisfaction through his peripheral as Waverider nodded. 

“Well, I guess it isn’t that exciting, but…that’s about it from me!” Cloudburst finished with a huff and another smile. “So what about you?” 

Landmine felt put on the spot for a moment, then he shrugged. 

“It’s not much compared to your novel of a tale,” he remarked. The others gave a chuckle. He looked to Metalhawk. 

“But first…any chance we have drinks aboard?”

…

Landmine was incredibly amused to discover the lack of tolerance to high-grade his commander had. 

Of course, he’d never been drinking with a commander before, but he’d expected himself to get drunk first. 

Or…am I drunk, too? 

Truth be told, he was feeling a bit sleepy…and warm. 

Music played faintly from a speaker near the ceiling. Some song from a couple centuries back, the tune registering itself in subconscious memory. He knew the tune, but didn’t know the song. 

As it was, with many things. 

Yawning, Landmine tilted his helm, which was resting in the palm of his hand, and looked to his holopad. It was laid at the edge of the table, screen open with a striking, blue light.  

The sudden blue glow against the dim, pinkish lighting of the room hurt his optics a bit, so he looked away again. 

 Drunk or sober, I think I’m gonna fall over. 

 “Commander?” He gently poked the yellow mech. Metalhawk had his head down at the flat, white tabletop. 

Landmine guessed he was asleep. He took another sip of his drink, then put it down, giggling. 

Perhaps this’ll rouse him…

 “Hawk! Report status, soldier!” He deepened his voice to resemble the barking of a drill sergeant, tapping the yellow-plated mech as he spoke. 

Metalhawk gave a short jolt. 

“Whaz’t?” He slurred, raising his helm sharply, looking around a bit. He seemed to realize Landmine was talking to him and turned his gaze to him, squinting. 

“Hawk, I was wondering–”

“Comman’er here,” he murmured suddenly, yet still quietly, cutting Landmine off. He gave what looked like the very definition of an ‘improper salute’ as he spoke. 

“Yes, soldier?” He deepened his voice again, smirking. Hawk seemed partially unaware it was Landmine speaking to him, as if he was only half-awake.

“I report…I’m reporting for…my absence reports…I’ll go to class t’morrow, sir!!” 

Oh jeez. He’s so out of it– 

Landmine tightened his jaw, trying not to burst into laughter.

He promptly failed after a couple seconds more, but Metalhawk didn’t seem to really notice. And of course, this just made it funnier.

He watched as Metalhawk shook his head, looking rather drowsily at the empty cup sitting in front of him, then back at Landmine. Was he aware enough to want another drink? 

Perhaps he’d suddenly have some of that energy from a couple hours ago if he had that other drink.

The image of his Commander stumbling around and laughing in a mildly uncharacteristic manner returned to his thoughts. Landmine waited in anticipation as Hawk continued to stare at the cup. 

But then, he gave a long exhale and put his head back down, mumbling something else. 

 Landmine concluded with a small chuckle to himself that, Hawk was probably down for the night–for good this time. 

 “We come bearing–”

“Shush! He’ll know we’re here!!”

“He already does, you nut–” 

 He looked to the door as made a hissing noise and opened to reveal Cloudburst and Waverider, having a mild argument. 

 “Oh, you’re back,” He said, raising his glass with a small grin. Waverider set the crate down. “I definitely didn’t hear you coming down the hall.” 

He watched Waverider snap around and issue a light whack to Cloudburst. It was likely in place of a triumphant ‘I told you so.’  

This time, Landmine didn’t let himself laugh out loud. He did allow a quiet chuckle. 

Cloudburst walked over and grabbed a bottle, popping it open and taking a drink.

“You and the boss’re still around, I see!” 

Landmine nodded, moving to take another sip, but he found his cup empty. 

“I’d stay, but I’m so drunk right now, I can’t stand up straight,” he said, taking another swig. Landmine nodded again, reaching over and sliding a bottle of his own out of its slot. 

“Oh you’re drunk,” Waverider agreed shoving him playfully. 

And so are you, Landmine thought. So am I, probably. 

Pouring the bottle’s contents into his cup, he found his gaze fixating on the liquid as it sparkled mid-air. He liked the small sound it made as it refilled the cup. 

He did not wish to heed how many drinks he’d already had, or was giving himself. 

 “Well then, begone with you,” Waverider said. With a smirk, he suddenly reached over and swiped the open bottle from Cloudburst and took a sip. The mech didn’t seem to mind, just watching him with an amused grin.

“See you, Phoenix,” Landmine said, taking his eyes off his glass for a moment. He set his now-half-empty bottle next to Metalhawk’s sleeping figure. 

That was definitely too many drinks, considering the size of his cup.

  “I’ll be here for a while, I think.”

 Cloudburst nodded acknowledgement and made what Landmine classified as: an improper salute: exhibit B. 

“Then–until the morning shines!” He said, almost a little too loudly. “Cloudburst, signing off my duty–I mean–for my duty! I will bring you–”

“Shut up, you lugnut!” Waverider shoved him out of the room, laughing so hard he lost his footing a bit. The two toppled over, landing outside of the room. 

Landmine just watched, sipping at his cup. The door hissed shut on the sight of the two drunken mechs trying to unentangle themselves and stand up again, amidst their giddy, tipsy laughter. 

“Until the morning shines,” he echoed to himself absentmindedly, shifting his cup from side to side. 

The bubbly feeling he’d been harboring the whole evening was, inevitably and suddenly, starting to fade.

There was something starting to well up inside. Something another couple glasses wouldn’t fix, even though he had as much left in the bottle he’d just taken. 

Something rather cold and dark. 

To think I was among the dying in some forsaken frontlines camp. Now, here I am, drunk, with drunken fools. Look at me, one of them. 

He wasn’t feeling so warm anymore. 

Excitement awaits, or is it crueler death? 

Another sip, and he felt a twinge of unease. Or was it nausea? His fuel tanks remained in slight discomfort, but not enough that he’d be inclined to obey its silent will. 

So, he tilted his helm upwards to finish off the glass. Now he was ready to go.

Landmine rose unsteadily, swaying a bit, gripped the tableside. He felt his fuel tanks lurch with the movement, and took a second to breathe slowly.

He glanced at Hawk, still sleeping in his spot. He wondered when Waverider had planned to come back in, looking to the door. But everything had gone quiet. 

Probably went back to his quarters with Phoenix. 

Ah, well. It was about time he stopped drinking for the night, anyway. With a huff, he hauled himself upright and started towards the door. 

Don’t know where mine is…

He figured he’d just go back to the command center. Perhaps no one would mind if he passed out there. 

…

Three weeks later, the team was almost through with their pre-mission training requirements, with only days to go before they were certified to move out. 

It hadn’t been easy, but Landmine found himself feeling more confident in the mission to come, and in his Pretender abilities, which had until this point, meant next to nothing to him. 

 It was funny to think how the higher-ups had tried to convince every bot that their only purpose was a soldier, who should hold their gun and shoot–the only exception being if they were elite by caste or class, or simply higher-ranked. 

Day after day of military academy–especially after the war really got started–Landmine knew he was no elite. He was trained in how to use his gun, how to survive without proper resources for periods of time, to be a strategist–with the all the smarts a bot might need but would forget when a blade shoved itself against their throat. 

Yet still, only twice had he ever been spoken to about being a Pretender. About fighting as a Pretender and not as simply another Autobot soldier.

Perhaps it was trivial in the bigger picture–after all, dead is dead. 

 4-edge, 3-edge, length sticks, no not those…

Landmine’s optics flicked to the different boxes lined up in the shelf. Some of them had labels, some of those labels had faded to white. 

He’d gone to fetch some repair supplies for Cloudburst. And as usual, the silence invited the chatter of his own thoughts. 

How many were there like himself, with unacknowledged potential–who would likely die in battle, the intricate stories of their lives forced shut in an anticlimactic conclusion. No adventure, no life lived before their time? 

And how odd, he remarked internally, to still have the fortunate and the unfortunate, in the midst of a war–one being fought namely for the end of the class divide in Cybertronian society. 

Will we accomplish anything when we end this, other than the destruction of cities and lives? Be it violent tyranny and oppression, or the will of corrupt and almighty governmental bodies–who below them would come away with anything other than what has always been? 

Head down, staring at the contents of the open box, Landmine felt a familiar ache, a sinking feeling of dread and despair. 

Our lives lie in the hands of others. If we like it or not, if we wage a war for it or not. How fair is that? 

“Lander! Where are you, buddy? We’re doing another simulation soon, but Hawk wants us in the main hall first!” 

Waverider. 

He looked up, staring at the wall outside the open door. He felt guilty as silence followed, likely for his own lack of response. But he couldn’t say anything back right now. He gripped the box more tightly and started down the hall. 

Memories began to awaken. Things he wanted to remember that made his chest hurt, reminding him why he also…didn’t want to remember. 

I'm just as bad a spark, aren't I?

He wondered…how fair it was to break someone’s heart, and then, act like nothing had happened at all. 

…

On the day for liftoff–when training was complete and all certifications to move out had been met–Landmine found himself exiting powerdown before daylight had emerged in the sky. He was not a late-riser by any means, but not usually quite so early either. 

He stared at the faint rays of daylight, reaching through his window and lighting the edge of his room walls.

He thought about the vacuum of space ahead. Something like a smile played at the corners of his mouth. 

I’ll remember this for a while, won’t I? 

The mech paced his room a couple times, rolling his shoulder joints and stretching a little. He'd found many benefits to morning exercises.

Optics ticking to an empty glass bottle lying near the window, his mind drifted back to the evening before. 

To the impromptu speech Metalhawk had made last night over some drinks in the bar room. 

The dimly-lit room carried a quiet murmuring, a laugh here and there. Landmine had come a bit late, taking his seat while Waverider waved a hello and handed him a glass. Cloudburst was, of course, talking. 

After a little while, Landmine glanced over the table and saw that Metalhawk had a distant sort of smile on his faceplate. 

He ran a finger against his rounded glass, gently. Then, as if deciding something, he flicked the edge softly. 

The soft cling caught the attention of their group, quieting them. And, without moving his optics from the sight of the rippling liquid in his cup, he’d begun to speak. 

“As we prepare to liftoff tomorrow, I wanted to…say a few things.” 

He looked now, to each one of them. 

“I…cannot guarantee we will make it back to Cybertron, that we will always have what we need, or that we will…survive this. I don’t know if we’ll succeed or fail in our mission, end up as prisoners of war on some Decepticon ship or not, or die as just a handful more nameless, faceless faction of the Autobot army. But, there is one thing of which, I do ask you to be certain.” 

He smiled a smile that no longer seemed distant, but very much real. Present. 

A look shimmered in his optics that Landmine knew well, yet not of his own experience. 

It was a look that belonged only to those who had somehow, not been tainted at their very core–who had somehow learned to love all things as they were, and to always love. 

Someone, he mused the thought, who had perhaps, not yet learned to hate from the pits of his being. Or maybe…

Made a choice, he'd thought.

“I am your commander in name only. More importantly, however, know I am your teammate, and I will not abandon you at any cost. Our destinies are uncertain–I only hope for many good centuries together. Not as mere soldiers of the Autobot faction, but instead as warriors of Cybertron, and of justice. Though imperfect as all beings are, we have, and always will have, a duty to protect life, and to strive to do good. And that mission, above all others, I do believe we can accomplish.”

Landmine gave a shout of approval and raised his glass high in the air. Nodding, the others raised theirs. They gazed back at Metalhawk, who gave a small chuckle, then raised his own glass. 

“For peace!” He offered the toast. Clinking of glass and overlapping shouts followed.

“For Cybertron!!”

“Let’s get ‘em!!”

“YEAA!!!”

Landmine blinked again, realizing he’d begun to stare at that bottle a little too long. 

The memory left him in the silence of his room in the early hours of day. 

Today’s the day. 

He slipped his new blaster to its holster and cast one more look at his room, then headed down to the main room to start course-planning, as a favor for the others on the ship, of course. 

…

Many years had passed since the Pretenders’ liftoff. Missions had been carried out, ships tracked and ambushed, prisoners transported to warships that arrived quickly after battles. The three weeks of training hadn’t done much to show them what they’d learn firsthand on every mission. 

Many hours were spent behind piles of mission reports and other writeups for record-keeping. No one had been seriously wounded up till this point, just some scratches here and there. 

When it was time to close in on their target, there’d be tense silence in the command room, darkened save for the computer display of what lay outside their ship’s windows. It was the unspoken group decision that pursuing targets would mean windows were closed, for maximum stealth effect in addition to the cloaking technology their ship possessed.

The panel walls were littered with an array of maps and charts (digital or tacked on rather hastily) that either had to do with their ship or the one the team was chasing. All optics and servos were locked to their task, relaying commands and requests between stations, ready for almost anything. 

 And at present, that was kind of the team’s situation…with one slight change. 

 “Phoenix, give me the numbers on our bottom left central thruster. Will it hold?”

 Having tracked their target to a very distant quadrant, the computer didn’t have much information about the area or its conditions. 

 “Ah…we’re at 42% power and dropping. The damage report indicates the shielding was torn off and it’s leaking fuel. The secondary power source cables are damaged as well, so once all the power’s gone, that’s it.” 

“Are the damage control systems online?”

“Negative. We have to go manual,” He pulled up the video feed of their rear camera to show the damage. “We are traveling at full speed in space, so manual repairs are not doable–”

“–without the cost of a life, alright. And if we continue pursuit as we are?” 

“Without repair? The…system says about 20 minutes until it starts sucking power from the other ones, and then we’ll enter float stage, pre-free-fall.”

 So…they were trapped. 

Landmine watched as he ducked his head, dealing a restrained punch to the wall next to him before returning to his command station and furiously typing away at the controls. He cast his eyes back to his own task, repeating to himself that he must stay focused.

“I’m going to try to reroute the power from the damaged thruster to the functional ones and shut off its power. We need to land now, or we’ll be forced to land,” he said quickly, not looking up. 

The tremor in his voice was audible, ambiguously a tone of either urgency or fear. 

 Landmine looked up from his station, where he had been managing their travel course since no one was piloting manually. 

 “Should I analyze the properties of our current sector and any stable landforms?” He offered, already pulling up another screen. 

“Yes, make sure–”

 Suddenly, the vessel jolted downwards and shook with such force that everyone was knocked to their feet. A blaring alarm sounded as the ship shook again, an automated voice announcing in smooth Cybertronian that their back two thrusters were out of power. 

The lights shut off for a second, while the ship swayed unevenly before a loud whirring started up and it moved back up again. 

When it returned to a somewhat stable position, the lights remained flickering, and everyone remained gripping their stations tightly so as to not fall over. 

 Metalhawk straightened and immediately dashed to the front of the ship, smacking a panel on the front computer and grabbing the steering wheel. As he twisted it, he turned back around for a moment. 

 “Lander–something within the current firing range of this ship–we need a landing place now!!”

“We’re abandoning target pursuit?” 

 He felt a small spark of hope as Metalhawk, gave a silent nod in response. He had the feeling most other commanders would have sacrificed themselves and their ship, preaching the nobility of dying for this cause without abandoning the mission.

 “With any luck, one of our last stray shots hit their ship too–which was already on its last leg from the looks of it,” Waverider piped up. “So they won’t be too far ahead, I’ll bet.” 

 “Okay, then,” Landmine switched off his station’s input to the course control and focused his efforts on scanning the nearby planets. “I’ll get something.” 

The ship was vibrating now, but not with its usual even-toned hum. 

It was the kind of uneven vibrating a machine made before it finally gave out and powered down for good.

Meanwhile, all the planets in their current sector weren’t looking too appealing. 

Not many with life or long-term livable conditions…Hm…

“Balance function is starting to–”

As if on cue, the ship began to tilt downwards again, the metallic whirring noise growing louder and louder. A small explosion could be heard before the lights shut off for good and the alarm system abruptly stopped. Everyone was tossed violently to the ground. 

The automated voice struggled to tell the room–

“We lost the third one!!” Cloudburst called over the halting monotone speech from the ship’s speakers. He shook his head picked himself off the ground, then rushed for the door. 

“I’ll shut off the power transfer so it doesn’t fry the rest of the ship and us in it!” The door hissed open and he disappeared down the hall. 

 Then, the sound of…something blowing out, sounded in the room. 

“Oh, sweet fraggin–” Waverider muttered the beginnings of a swear before whipping his gaze to the side to watch as the left half of the ship went completely dark, the computer panels clearly destroyed past functioning point. 

He slammed his station with a balled first. 

“We’re blind on the left side!”

Metalhawk made a noise of frustration and worry, just barely audible above the roaring engine as it struggled to stay active. He was grappling with the somewhat functional manual steering system, trying to keep the ship at a steady angle. 

 “Can we open the–ngh!!” 

He was cut off as the ship as the ship lost control again, throwing him off the wheel and slamming him against the wall and then the floor. As he stumbled to his feet and back to the steering wheel, he gasped as he saw the other side of the ship’s display panels begin to flicker ominously. 

Landmine swallowed, doing his best to quickly surf through all the information presented. 

“We’re almost out of power–we can’t deactivate the panels!”

It was now or never, they needed a place to–

'Sol System Entry 7625 - Life: detected.’ 

Landmine blinked twice at the screen in front of him. He scrolled back to the planet that had read the one positive result among the sea of negative ones. 

It that…?

With a quick tap, the image of a blue orb with wispy, white clouds tracing its edge, floating gently in its place, appeared on his display screen. His optics flicked to the planetary report, intrigued to find that this place had even been previously logged into Autobot travel records. 

‘Atmospheric makeup: Non-toxic. Resource profile: Varied, Non-toxic. Cycle End Date: Undetected. Motion Cycle: Rotation.’ 

He checking one last thing, anticipation building–

Landing conditions: Optimal; follow procedure 41F-52.’

That was it.

“We need to prepare the ship to enter foreign atmosphere!!”

Waverider and Metalhawk snapped their gazes in his direction.

“Yes, I found us a landing spot, you can thank me later. The profiles of the surrounding planets are virtually uninhabitable–this is our only option right now!” 

Waverider exchanged looks with their commander, who gave him a sharp nod. Then, he ran over to Landmine’s screen. After a moment, he chuckled a little. 

When he turned to look at Landmine, a smile had cracked onto his face through the solemn, controlled panic that had been previously. The soft, turquoise light from the only control panels still working in the room bounced off the curves of his face, shimmering off his blue visor. 

 And even though there was such a high chance they’d die in the next few minutes, Landmine found himself frozen, simply staring back.

 No. We can’t die today. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. 

“Hey! Um, a little help here–did we find something?!”

Landmine let out a little laugh and slid back into his seat as Waverider seemed to snap back to seriousness and leaned over to speak for him.

“Hawk, it also checks out as habitable to carbon-based life forms!” He called, gripping the his station as the ship jerked to the side again. “We’ll be fine as long as we land safely!” 

Just then, Cloudburst came rushing into the room. 

“The core engine isn’t looking good, guys! We need to get the ship out of full thrust mode or we’ll overheat, and our power sources will mix and explode!!” 

Oh. Wonderful. 

So, the options had been expanded beyond: 1.) drifting aimlessly, trapped inside a non-functioning ship until energon-depletion or some other cause killed them, or 2.) losing power completely and burning up upon entry to the nearest atmosphere.

Now, they had a third option: sitting and waiting for their ship to simply overheat and explode. 

The reddish mech ran up next to Metalhawk and started pushing buttons on the control panel. 

“Someone needs to prepare the stasis pods and program them to ejection mode, I’ll set an altitude point!” 

“Got it!” Waverider called, jumping up and sprinting out of the room. Landmine started inputting the coordinates of destination to the navigation system–one of the only undamaged things thus far–and deprogramming the space travel controls. 

A couple minutes of silence passed before he flashed a thumb-up in the air.

“We’re ready for atmospheric entry in approximately 40 seconds and counting!” 

“Brace for a drop, everyone!” Metalhawk shouted, planting his feet and gripping the wheel with all the force he could give. 

“Stasis pods are ready to go!” Waverider reentered the room, sliding back into his station.

“Engines to 15%!”

“Roger!”

“Everyone get down!!”

There was a loud noise from the engine, then an abrupt silence as it cut down to about 15% power, and then the ship dipped so far downwards that Landmine felt himself grimace. 

Part of him even wondered if this was really procedure, and that they weren’t all about to die now. 

As if we weren’t before, he scoffed at himself. 

He dug his digits into the side of his seat and shut his optics as the ship began to pick up speed. 

The eerie silence endured for what felt like an eternity before the ship moved again, this time to right itself and return to a normal angle. At least, normal enough that Landmine opened his eyes to look around and see that the others were slowly standing up. 

 Metalhawk let out a shuddering breath and pressed a couple buttons with shaking digits before stepping back and regarding his crew. He’d probably switched the ship back to autopilot, so that they could all–

“Everyone to the stasis pods,” he ordered solemnly, quietly. 

No one else spoke a word, ducking their helms and filing out of the room and into the hall. 

Landmine walked out last. 

He cast one last look at the nearly pitch-black command room, catching sight of the last couple working display panels struggling to function before the door hissed shut behind him. 

He felt a twinge of sadness at the idea that they were saying goodbye to this ship so soon. Admittedly, it had been one nice vessel, with a gorgeous design and plenty of capabilities.

Then, there was the stark realization that once they entered stasis, they might not make it back out alive. 

We can’t die today. We won’t.

Since the ship was barely working, the lighting in the halls was…nonexistent. However, they knew exactly where they were going, and walked quietly in the darkness until they reached their destination. 

With a quiet whirring noise, the door slid open. The darkness was abruptly luminated with a soft, greenish glow, emanating from the center of each stasis pod lying in its place. 

There were six of them, more than enough for every member on this team. 

Landmine had been there to help Cloudburst put in the other three.

He walked in and watched as Metalhawk entered his verification to the panel on the wall, deactivating the locks on each one so they hissed and snapped open simultaneously. The greenish glow faded to a blue, as if softening, to invite them in. 

“Whatever the outcome, remember what I said to you all on our liftoff day,” Metalhawk said as evenly as he could, turning and regarding each mech slowly, kindly. He had that smile on his face again, which seemed to ease the tension in the room. 

“If we make it out alive or if this is the day on which Primus welcomes us home, I am honored to have had such a good team of friends. I am honored to die, not for this cause, but surrounded by you.”

"And we're honored to remain with you in this moment, sir."

"It was an honor indeed."

"Frag yeah."

Their commander nodded, then swiveled to gaze down at the stasis pods.

“Then…until we meet again,” he said, soft enough that he almost wasn't audible.

He then walked to the back of the room and took a step into the pod. Cloudburst followed, taking the one next to him.

Landmine stepped towards his pod, then stopped, frozen in place again. 

It wasn’t quite hesitation or fear, but something was stopping him from going forward. He could feel the quaking beneath him, as the ship was no doubt somewhat falling apart, reaching closer and closer to the ground. 

He heard the doors to the other pods seal themselves shut, administering the stasis lock. 

But something was…

“Hey.” 

He looked to his side and found himself millimeters away from Waverider. His spark skipped a beat. But, he wasn’t afraid. 

He found himself reaching out and gripping Waverider’s servos, firmly, yet gently. He traced his thumb along the palm of his hand, smiling with a deep emotion he couldn’t quite place. 

Waverider’s visor glittered, a smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards. He let his helm fall against Landmine’s.

He spoke so softly, so gently, in his easy-going way that almost made it seem like he didn't even fear death itself. 

“I want to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“Then see me again!” 

“Alright, I will,” Landmine chuckled, letting go of one hand and bringing it up to caress Waverider’s face for a moment. “I won’t leave you again.” 

“Oh, Lander…”

“I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry for the things I said back in Academy, I'm sorry for never contacting you, I’m sorry for–”

“Shh…” 

 The black-plated mech drew away, his hand sliding slowly out of Landmine’s grip. He gave a soft smile and climbed into his pod, still watching him.

Landmine found himself to be shaking, unable to speak as he watched Waverider lean back and close his optics. He didn’t know how to describe this feeling, that seemed to break his facade, to suddenly force him to realize of the gravity of everything happening in this moment. 

The possibility of the unwanted outcome, which no one would mourn, and no one would remember, until long after the war was over. Or perhaps, not even then.  

He watched, motionless, as the glass panel slid over his body, the blue shining off it in wavy lines.

He mouthed something just before the glass fogged over and he could no longer be seen. 

Until we meet again. 

He could still felt the touch on his hand, the weight against his forehead, heard the softly-whispered utterances ringing in the recesses of his mind as he finally forced himself to move. 

Stepping into his own pod, he felt a strange relief wash over him. Perhaps it was closer to sudden resignation, but he wanted to believe it was relief.

A sheet of clear glass moved over his body, another, thicker one sliding over from the side.

It was a very small space, this container. 

He found himself smiling.

Maybe now he could finally say he’d been a good Autobot. 

Had the past been fixed? Had he done anything right or...just? Had he truly strove for the protection of all life, as Hawk had put it? 

Perhaps. Or not. But maybe I did my best. And maybe…that’s good enough. 

And then, the nothingness of stasis wrapped its grip around him, and everything went dark. 

…

“No, you need a new tie–where’s your sense of style?!” Landmine took a long drink from his glass before shaking his head. “Oh, wait I forgot–you don’t have one.”

“Says the guy in the ugliest jacket I have ever laid eyes on–”

“That's my favorite one, shut up!” 

“You!!”

“You!!!”

But the both of them were laughing.

Though tipsy, they hadn’t thought to call it a night yet, especially not on their drinks. So they remained, sitting near the window of a high-rise, fancy restaurant in the middle Manhattan.

It had so happened, Waverider was in the city for a bit, so Landmine decided to take him to one of his favorite restaurants.

It was times like this he was happy to be not just a human, but one with a very decent salary.

The lights of the city twinkled like a sea of stars tied to the ground, canceling out the vast number of stars that both of them knew hung high in the sky…out in space…

“It’s been too long for you, hasn’t it?” 

 Landmine jolted a bit a he heard Waverider’s voice, gaze snapping back to him and away from the city below. He watched him reach out and pick up his glass, tracing the edge of it with a finger. 

“Me too, Lander,” Waverider said, so quietly it could have been to himself, “Me too.” 

Yes, he agreed, internally, looking back out the window.  

It’d been quite literally ages since they’d been able to resume their missions, flying around the galaxy…they’d been in human bodies for so many years, it almost felt like a distant memory–the war, or that they belonged to a whole other world. 

Considering how long they'd been forced to remain on earth so far–as their superiors felt it best to just station the team on earth rather than provide or allow them a means to come back to Cybertron–he was fairly open to that notion. Perhaps it was better it all remained a vague memory, put behind him for good.

Life on earth wasn't perfect, but it had a lot of its own good moments. In some ways, it was better than Cybertron, he'd concluded.

And despite what he knew many of his kind would think, he didn't feel guilty at all for feeling that way.

He remembered the day their stasis pods reactivated, opening his optics to a bright light floating in a crystal blue sky, and realizing he was unharmed, and still alive. 

The flood of hope like no other, that had caused him to remain motionless for quite a while before he finally left his pod. 

But what had felt like such a distant memory wasn’t just the war itself. 

 “Hey,” he said taking another sip of the sparkling white liquid in his glass. “I’ve missed talking to you like this. Just sitting together...”

He watched Waverider lean back to down the rest of his glass before responding. 

“You said it.”

“We should…get together more often,” he found himself saying. The music playing faintly on the speakers stopped for a moment as he spoke. 

He watched Waverider smile, but felt his heart tighten as it registered what kind of smile it was. This was familiar. Quite familiar. 

Another song started to play overhead. Something about romance. 

“I’d…be open to that,” he said at last, looking out the window. Even amidst the medium-level noise of the restaurant, his sudden silence seemed to shout at Landmine. 

Should I not have...?

Landmine sighed and reached out a hand, letting his fingers rest on his friend’s. 

The warm, semi-dim lighting of the restaurant painted the strangers at the tables behind them in orange shadows. The yellow of the overhead lighting shimmered faintly in the depths of Waverider's soft blue eyes. 

He looked out the window again, too, eyes caught by the sight of a skyscraper flashing a bright yellow light in some practiced sequence. 

He found it wonderful and intriguing that even after all these years watching civilization build itself into the modern day, there were still some things he’d never know about daily life. 

Or it might be a broken light. 

Another memory suddenly greeted him. 

The one where he went to check Waverider’s pod first, instinctively, and moment he realized how afraid he’d been when Waverider finally opened his eyes, the glass sliding away immediately, letting him sit up.

 “We’re up first! How wild is that?” He’d said, dropping down to a kneeling position to be eye-level with him. Waverider blinked once, twice, then chuckled. 

“Pretty wild.” He leaned forward and touched foreheads with Landmine. “So, hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m seeing you again. I told you we’d see each other soon…”

“I know…”

Suddenly, the hand beneath his shifted to grip back, pulling him from his memory and into the present again. The smile that he saw across the table was different again, looking happier than before. 

I just don’t know how to tell you...

 “Can I come to your office tomorrow, then?” 

 Landmine smirked, feeling his own playful nature return in full. 

 “Only if you let me pick out your outfit–and you throw out that awful tie!” 

“By the Primes, Lander–”

“No, I'll even buy the stuff for you. It’ll be my treat,” He insisted, starting to laugh. “The people at my office will kick you out if you walk in with that uncoordinated kind of style!” 

“Oh, then you must have experience in that field,” Waverider joked back, motioning at Landmine’s signature burgundy jacket. 

He had the most smug grin on his face.

“My good sir, I’ll have you know that–” 

But he didn’t finish his sentence.

He’d broken off abruptly, just staring at Waverider for a moment. The clamor of people around them seemed to fade out.

Unsure as to whether it was the wine he'd been drinking or something else entirely, he felt like something was...pulling at him, and he found himself leaning closer and closer until…

Another memory flashed through his mind’s eye. It was of his first experience with a kiss. 

Landmine was sitting in his office, typing away at his laptop. He'd been working at a paper company while he looked for a better job, having set his sights on moving to New York.

He was filling out his application for a position as head of sales at an automotive dealer when he felt a tap on the shoulder.

In the reflection of his computer screen, he could see Waverider's figure before he felt him lean over and rest his head on his shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured, grinning. "Shouldn't you be in a meeting?"

His partner didn't respond, instead leaning over and pressing his lips gently against Landmine's cheek. The blonde froze, obviously startled by the gesture.

Then at last, he cleared his throat, looking up at Waverider, who still had a large smile on his face. He was sure he was flushed, but tried to play it cool.

"And you did that…why?”

“It’s a human custom,” Waverider explained, laughing. “Its called kissing. Saw someone in my office do it with their partner, and I've seen it hundreds of times before that, but didn't know what it was."

"And that is?" He watched Waverider draw back a bit, tapping his chin in thought.

"How do I say...well, it's like...it means affection, or that you care for someone.”

"Alright..." Landmine was still confused, however. “But, I mean...is it platonic or romantic?”

Waverider shrugged. Then, leaned over to kiss Landmine's cheek again.

"That's...up to us, I guess..."

Whatever you wanted it to be, a kiss was. 

Well, he didn't know what this kiss was, but...he knew it felt right. It was better than any word he could speak, or gesture he could make.

And after a moment, he and Waverider leaned back, sat back down, quiet again. But, not an uncomfortable silence. 

He watched his companion smile, start to blush. The dimples in his face showed themselves as he smiled back at him. He ruffled his brownish-blonde hair with one hand, starting to giggle a little. 

Landmine knew it wasn’t going to be long before Waverider would have to return to his job, leaving New York again. They’d be lonely again, even if they called and messaged…

But maybe what they had...didn't need some kind of label, or name. A commitment or a friendship or...something deeper than that...whatever this was.

This still felt alright. As it always had. Something told him Waverider felt that, too. 

He and Waverider had since had many long talks about their academy days. Everything had been laid out, brought up, acknowledged and forgiven.

They had come to understand one another so deeply in all their years since coming to Earth, but especially now, as humans in this current time of peace. 

“No matter what you do, or who you’re with," Waverider murmured, beaming, "I’ll always be here for you. I know I've said that before, but...eh, it's worth saying again.” 

"I know."

"I'm glad!" He laughed again.

He was certainly a little drunk, sure but, he was always like this, Landmine thought.

Waverider had always been a relaxed and fun-loving soul.

“Connected sparks...always find their way back together no matter what, don’t they?” Landmine remarked, flicking a fingertip against his plate.

He felt warm, all the way inside himself, not from the meal or the heater, but...from something else.

Waverider blinked in some surprise for a moment, seeming to take in the words, processing them, before the smile returned to his features.

“Yeah...they really do.”

And, suddenly Landmine took notice of the speaker overhead, as it had started playing something else while they spoke. 

It was a song about humanity–something he and the other Pretenders had learned slowly but surely, was quite relative to what they’d known all their lives.

The truth of existence, which Landmine had found and continued to find with every passing day. 

That it's alright, to be as one is–imperfect, yet persevering.

Bringing what one can to the table of life, giving, speaking, loving and experiencing it all. 

That in that imperfection, life itself was good–contrary of course, to what he’d learned in the Cybertronian Military Academy, which had been wrong about many other things as well. 

Life in many forms, which seeks friendships and connections between others, in its funny, social nature.

Nothing quite in idealistic purity, and often happy in that manner of existing.

That, which altogether, made it truly beautiful to be alive, especially on this Earth.

///

#transformers #transformers super god masterforce #super god Masterforce #super god masterforce fanfiction #Masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨ #tf #transformers stuff #maccadam #kuniwrites #<3 #fanfiction #writing #landmine #lander #waverider #diver #cloudburst #Phoenix #Metalhawk #hawk #Pretenders #transformers fanfiction #for fun #anime #transformers anime #edit: ive finally come up with a shipname for these two #landiver #vine boom sound effect #yea

[sparklingpax]

The Art of Cooking, or...Not Knowing How

A/N:

-Based on my HC that Ginrai can't cook, has no experience since he never had the time to learn, and every time he tries it goes very wrong. On the other side, Hawk is a great cook, and usually ends up cooking for the base when no one else can. Shush, I like this headcanon ok--

-by this point theyre pretty much a couple :3 or at least, openly physically affectionate towards one another ^^

-oo yes also, set in canon, (hence the tags) but tbh, many of my HCs for canon versions of the characters carry into my Reverie stuff so...this exact thing could definitely happen in that universe loll ✨

-shoutout to anyone who has listened to me ramble about this exact scenario before because not only did you endure that bs but now you get a whole elaborate fanfic about it so....holy shit im so sorry jsdjsiskjsd 💀😳

-omg dont hate cloudburst btw I didn't know how to write this to make him look less bad but I swear hes not a bad person and none of the others are either they just. are used to letting Hawk do most of their paperwork for them & also the other three pretenders (not Hawk) have sort of, day jobs? So they are pretty busy....

-literally y'all I'm so sorry this exists, I blame the early morning hours of yesterday and a single cup of coffee this morning getting me from start to finish of this thing in record time. and my own inability to cook fueling this idea in the first place lmaooo I hope it's at least...somewhat enjoyable....so without further ado, here I go again with self-indulgent ginhawk content o///o''

-bruh it's been an actual age since I've written & finished a real fic-type thing...😳😳 again like, I'm praying I didn't miss anything in my grammar/typo checking 😅

-i sincerely hope you enjoy :]

///

“But—but I can cook!”

“You…can cook?”

“Yeah!”

“You can…cook?” Hawk repeated, as if this was impossible to believe.

“I—yeah? Well, I'm not all good at it, but it's food, right? It's edible…” Hawk raised an eyebrow at this as Ginrai pursed his lips and looked away, flushing slightly.

Suddenly, the kitchen seemed to fill again with the distinctive smell of burning chicken.

The image of large, misshapen chunks of it rather…creatively charred to ashy black and stuck to a Teflon pan.

Ginrai waving the smoke frantically, and then grabbing his cup of drinking water splashing it over the smoky meat, rendering it more inedible than it had already been….it was an amusing, yet depressing sight.

Hawk also recalled the price of the new pan he’d gone and ordered online an hour after.

He wasn’t joking when he told me it was dangerous to leave him alone in the kitchen. Was he aware it was burning before the smoke started up?

“Ok, ok…so I’m no world-famous chef...” Ginrai admitted hotly. He started to play with a stray fork from the newly-cleaned load.

Hawk stifled laughter and shook his head wordlessly.  Ducking below the counter to organize the lids of pots and pans, his lips played at a smile.  

“Yeah, that poor pan might have to agree with you—”

“But I would....like to…try again. Maybe, with some guidance this time,” he added more quietly.

“So that you don’t burn the food?”

“Pretty much,” Ginrai agreed, watching Hawk turn on the sink, continuing to unload the dishwasher.

Absentmindedly, he let his eyes follow the trail of water as it ran from the faucet next to him, freely touching on the items piled in the sink. From the upside-down bowl, down the slim, blue plates, pooling in another bowl, or heading further down to fill an empty red container….

“And…would you be aiming for somewhat of an edible meal this time around?” Hawk asked innocently.

“'Somewhat'—”

A sparkle flashed in the trucker’s gaze, and he reached forward to flick the running water at Hawk, who ducked to the side.  The water hit him anyway, but he didn’t mind.

Meanwhile, Ginrai attempted to defend himself.

Hawk began loading the dishes now.

“In my defense, I’ve only made chicken twice in my life, and that fiasco last week doesn’t count!!”

“Well, neither do the other two times, since those were microwaveable chicken dinners—”

“Shut up!”

But they were both laughing.

Hawk got to thinking all the same.

As it was, there weren’t many people left in HQ at the moment, and fewer who could actually cook. Ordering out was not an option since their budget for the month declared they were already $126 over that spending limit.

So, all that considered, the duty of cooking fell upon Hawk once again.

Well…I have paperwork to start on, but as long as nothing else comes up, cooking shouldn't be a problem.

A quick knock on the side of the kitchen’s entrance grabbed the attention of the pair, and they looked up to see Cloudburst standing on the wooden threshold, holding some papers.

Ginrai had no idea what they were, but from the look on Hawk’s face, one could guess he did.

“Oh—hey, Clouds,” Ginrai waved, grinning.

The man waved back a little sheepishly. It didn’t look like he was here to hang around for fun.

He quickly looked to Hawk, and before he could say anything, the Pretender commander straightened and closed the dishwasher, entering the settings for the load.  

“You…need those investigative patrol reports done, I presume?” He asked, not looking up. As the machine whirred into action, he moved to the sink and started to clean it.

The silence that followed seemed to suffice for an answer. 

And suddenly, Ginrai noticed, Hawk looked tired. Very tired.

After all, Ginrai remembered, it was Hawk who ended up doing most of the paperwork associated with their team. He was supposed to review them, too…

“I take it you forgot to do these, and they’re part of what’s due tomorrow?”

Cloudburst was beginning to look a little embarrassed, and he started to play with the edges of the papers for a moment before stepping into the kitchen and setting them down on the marbled counter.

Finally, he spoke.

“I—well, yes. And I was going to do them tonight, but my office called and, um, they’ve sort of—they’ve got a lot of guys out. Naturally, there need to be people at the desks doing stuff, but also someone to sit watch on the communications station, and I don’t know if my boss would be too happy to have me call in to let him know I can’t…go either…”

Cloudburst broke off abruptly as he watched Hawk slipped his apron off and turned to face him, a polite look tying his features to a mild, calm expression. He leaned over and rifled through the papers for a moment, then spoke again.

“Don’t worry about it, go and do your job.”  

“R-really? And…you’re ok with it?”

Hawk nodded. “This kind of thing can’t be helped.”

Ginrai made a slight face. He wasn't so sure about that one.

“I’m just glad you told me now rather than five hours from now. Remember to let me know immediately if anything important comes through the communications room tonight.”

Cloudburst smiled, saluted. “Yes, sir!”

He then gave a ‘goodbye’ nod to Ginrai, and quickly left the room.

Just a little curious, Ginrai leaned over the counter to take a look at the papers himself, then winced at the sight of nearly-illegible text scrawled in different places on the page, in different shapes, shorthand—

So….this is what they look like before they’re done. This is what he’s got to work with.

The young Autobot commander started to feel bad about the fact that clearly, he’d never even done the record-keeping part of reports, let alone the actual filing of them. In his opinion, they were a little pointless, but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t get stuck with them anyway.

Yes, it technically wasn’t his duty as the leader of the team, but…he still felt guilty.

It looked like a lot of work, after all.

Hawk really did a lot for the team, Ginrai was always fully aware, just…he wondered if anyone else seemed to realize that. Like, really realize.

If they did, maybe they’d be more careful about their own paperwork stuff, instead of dumping it on Hawk all the time, who’s too nice to say no.

Next to him, Hawk was already starting to read the papers over. Ginrai vaguely recalled the list of projects the man was already swamped with, and came to a new resolve.

Ok, next team meeting, I’ll ask them all to start doing their own reports. I am their leader now, I can do that sort of thing.

Feeling good about this, he put an arm around Hawk, leaning over and giving him a soft kiss on his head. With a soft exhale, Hawk seemed to accept the gesture, letting his weight fall more limply on Ginrai. The smile on his features was a tired one, but it read of soft gratitude.

Neither said a word for a few heartbeats, letting the silence embrace them. No one needed to say anything, no one wanted to.

Outside, the autumn sky had begun to darken, making it seem much further into the night than it likely was. It was as if there was not a living soul in that base save for them.

Then, Hawk shifted and Ginrai stepped to the side to let him stretch.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He offered. The grin from earlier seemed to return.

“Well, Supreme Commander,” Hawk said, giving him a decidedly more sultry look.

“Well, my lovely subordinate?” Ginrai prompted, blushing lightly. 

“I’m going to need some help getting dinner done if I want to have time to file those reports before the deadline…”

Ginrai’s eyes sparkled. He knew where this was going.

“…you said you wanted to try cooking again?”

“Hell yeah!”

///

“Alright, now that we have our water…” Hawk motioned to the pot sitting in the sink, then the stove. “It’s got to heat up.”

Ginrai nodded, still rubbing his newly bandaged hand.

Minutes ago, the two had thought to prepare the vegetables going into the pasta before starting on anything else, just to get it out of the way.

Hawk had begun cutting things up while Ginrai watched, then after a few minutes, handed Ginrai the knife to give him a go at it.

Not a minute went by before the man decided to speed up the cutting pace, drop the knife, and well…the band-aid could speak for itself.

It was quickly decided that Hawk would handle all the other parts of this dish, and Ginrai would be on the pasta, and only the pasta.

What could go wrong there, after all?

“Um…you wanted the fire on high?”

“Yes.”

“So, I turn the knob this way?”

“Other way.”

“Oh, yes, right.”

“Alright."

Hawk quickly added, a little nervously, “And please, try not to burn yourself.”

Ginrai gave a thumbs up, then moved to operate the stove. He frowned at its lack of fire after turning the knob. After a moment or two of trying, he looked to Hawk again. He’d forgotten to push the knob inwards to get the fire going, but clearly wasn’t aware of that.

“Is…is this thing on?”

Hawk fought the urge to start laughing. It would be light-hearted, but he didn’t want to hurt Ginrai’s feelings, so he bit his tongue instead.

He must not be joking when he says everything he eats is store-bought and microwaved. 

What made this especially funny was how he did this wearing an apron Hawk remembered receiving as a Christmas gift from Waverider.

The front side read “Master Chef, Move Along” in English, written with big, red letters.

The irony of it was almost too much for Hawk. However, he composed himself and walked over to the stove.

“Push it first, hold,” as he did this, a rhythmic crackling noise sprang from the stove, “and then, you’ve got a fire. So now, turn it where you need.” He stepped back and watched as Ginrai tentatively held the knob, then nodded to himself.

“Alright, fire on high, here we come,” he murmured.  And with a gentle twist, the fire popped up under the smoky grates at what seemed to be the ‘high’ setting.

At last, they were getting somewhere!

A half hour had gone by, but perhaps the next one would make up for the lost time. And, thankfully, Ginrai hadn’t burnt himself on anything—or burnt anything—yet. The pot was carefully placed atop the fire with no troubles.

Now, it was time to for Hawk to focus on finishing the rest of the meal. Dumping the tomatoes into the bowl and beginning to crush them, Hawk called to Ginrai to add the pasta to the water if it seemed to be boiling.

“And…how do I tell it’s boiling?”

“Bubbles,” Hawk responded more quietly, seeming very focused on smashing the tomatoes in his bowl.  

“Got it!”

The trucker glanced at the pot and saw a couple bubbles. Two, he counted, probably from when he’d filled the pot with water.

Did he mean a lot of bubbles or a little?

Guess there was only one way to know.

He then looked to the unopened box of pasta lying near the edge of the counter. Quickly, Ginrai opened it and plopped it into the water, jumping back as it splashed out a little.

From where he was standing, Hawk called out to him.

“Could you grab the two bowls near the window? The water will need some salt, and this paste will need some flavoring.”

“Roger!”

Hawk thought about going to check the bowls, but his present task seemed to have all his concentration. He only hoped Ginrai knew the difference between the two ingredients.

And once again, Ginrai proved he could not be left to do anything alone in the kitchen.

He played a short game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe to decide on which bowl was going to the pasta, and which was going to Hawk. Then, feeling satisfied with his decision, he flipped one of the small bowls upside down, dumping the entirety of its contents into the pasta.

No, he had no idea which was salt, and which was the flavoring. He'd instead opted to hope it was salt he’d just added to the pasta.

As the water started to bubble more vigorously, the trucker stood and stared at it, thinking.

Huh. I didn’t know you put that much salt in pasta. Maybe that’s why they say it’s bad for your cholesterol or…something.

“Hey, before you bring the flavoring here, you might want to make sure the pasta fits the pot! It’ll be easier to work with if its been cut down to fit.” Hawk called over again, seeming to still be working on the tomato paste.

Ohh…well, that makes sense. How do I get that out of the pot to cut it, though?

Ginrai tapped his chin in thought, still staring at the murky, white water as it bubbled—viciously, now—and the pasta as it started to bounce and move.

I wonder if—

He reached in to pick up the pasta with his bare hands, then snapped back, hissing in quiet pain.

Obviously, it was hot by this point, and so it had burned him. But what really hurt was when the heat felt like it had seared through his band-aid and touched his cut from earlier.

Was cooking supposed to be this painful?

Calm down, you're just resizing it.

He exhaled slowly and carefully putting the pasta back in the pot so he could contemplate plan B.

Which was…well........those scissors near the knives looked pretty good.

Because maybe, he didn’t even need to take the pasta out of the pot?

Shaking out a hand to get rid of the burning sensation, he reached over with the other to take the scissors, and without a second thought, began to cut the tops of the noodles so they didn’t stick out so much.

“When you’re ready, I need that flavoring!”

Ginrai nodded and dropped the scissors on the counter, grabbing the unused bowl and heading to where Hawk was working.

He didn’t quite notice all the extra pieces of cut pasta had rolled all over the floor, the counter, and…into the grates below the pot. Right next to the fire.

“Here you are,” Ginrai said, grinning, brandishing the bowl and getting ready to pour it in. Hawk looked up to thank him, and was glad he did.

“Oh, that’s the salt, what I need for this should be in the blue one. Though, you can add some salt if we need it.”

Ginrai felt the heat rise to his face.

Oh no.

Hawk tilted his head at him, looking a little concerned.

“Did you put the flavoring in the pasta?”

Meekly, Ginrai nodded. He was sure his face was red by now. But Hawk just smiled.

“That’s alright. Pasta can have flavoring of its own,” he resumed stirring the tomatoes as he continued. “But I’ll need both for this, then. Just add as much of the salt in here as what you put in the pot over there, okay? Hold on, I need something from the fridge.”

It’s…okay. Alright. Ok.

As Hawk put the bowl down and headed for the fridge, Ginrai swallowed, staring at the salt sitting on the counter.

He was no cook, but…he wasn’t sure there should be that much salt added to tomato sauce?

But Hawk is a cook, maybe he has his own reasons. He said same as with the pot.

So, Ginrai lifted the bowl, and turned it upside down, same as before. Then, seeing nothing else to do, he started to mix.

Meanwhile, Hawk returned, but didn’t say anything for a moment as he noticed the empty bowl of salt. For a moment, he stood there, visibly piecing together a couple things.

Then it seemed to hit him all at once as he slowly looked from the bowl to Ginrai, eyes wide.

“Um. When I said 'the same as the pot'…”

“…yes?” Ginrai slowly stopped mixing and put the bowl down. He heard the slight uneasiness in Hawk's voice.

“Exactly...how much did you put in the pot?”

“Er….all of it?” He answered slowly.

“I see…so, I assume…there’s no more of the flavoring?”

“Um...and…no more salt, either,” Ginrai finished his train of thought for him.

"I...see...."

Ginrai touched the back of his head awkwardly, feeling the heat return to his cheeks.

Hawk stared at the bowl again, trying to figure out how to salvage this.

Perhaps if we start over, and I handle the pasta. He could crush up the tomatoes.

“Um, Hawk.”

But first there would have to be—

"Hawk."

Ginrai poked him timidly. Finally, he looked up, then followed his gaze to the other side of the kitchen. And promptly regretted taking those extra seconds of thought.

Oh, Primus, please tell me I’m hallucinating.

The deity seemed to answer through the pasta itself.

From under the grate, there was a violent crackling noise and a pop of light. And just as suddenly, smoke started to rise from the floor, the counter, under the grate.

All the while, the milky-white water in the pot seethed with bubbly rage, beginning to overflow and spill over, jostling the uneven pieces of pasta sticking out with such force that a few fell to the floor.

“It's burning!” Ginrai exclaimed, audibly starting to panic. Hawk blinked at it, somewhat amazed at the spectacle.

Yes, it was. It was definitely burning.

“Is—is it supposed to do that?”

No, it wasn’t.

Without responding, Hawk darted towards the stove and reached out to turn it off, but pulled back sharply with an utterance of pain.

The fire had burned him.

Judging by the pieces of pasta everywhere, he must have…literally cut the pasta off to resize it.

After a second try, he was able to switch the stove's fire off, and the two of them quickly stamped out the little flames started on all the pieces of burning pasta.

Then, Hawk ran over to the pantry to get the oven mitts, so he could get the pot into the sink.

But the smoke hazing their visions wasn’t hanging around for decoration. And Hawk realized that a little too late.

He looked over from the sink to see Ginrai carrying the bowl of tomato paste to the garbage and called to him.

“Um—Ginrai, my hands are full, could you open the window so the smoke doesn’t set off the—”

Before he could finish, the piercing, high-pitched sound of their fire alarm went off, startling Ginrai enough that he dropped the bowl he was holding. With yet another loud noise, the ceramic shattered, and the tomato paste went all over the floor.

But, rather than worry about that, he knew Hawk had been trying to ask him for something.

“The what?!”

“The window! Please!” He repeated, his voice rising.

"Open it?"

"Yes!!!"

The window was opened. And thankfully, the noise stopped after a couple beats.

Quietly, the two watched as smoke drifted out of the kitchen and into the night air. Then, they began to clean in silence.

Hawk began to think.

Pasta had been, in his opinion, the easiest option for a guided intro to cooking next to a literal salad, but at this point, he wasn’t even sure if that salad would have been a good idea.

“Hey, um…"

Ginrai’s tentative tone caused Hawk to stop what he was doing and he turned to see the 19-year-old fiddling with the cleaning rag, standing by the counter.

“I feel like an apology isn’t gonna cut it here, but…I wanted to apologize anyway…” he continued, looking to the floor, ashamed.

He was still wearing the apron with words that created such irony to the whole situation that Hawk couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I’m really, really—”

“It’s alright, Ginrai,” Hawk responded, setting the clumps of rubbery pasta back down in the pot and walking over to him.

He looked quite surprised, so Hawk elaborated. “We’re good at different things, and you tried here tonight. Plus, with practice, you’ll get it right someday.”

He then placed a hand on Ginrai’s arm, and squeezed lightly.

The young commander gave a flustered smile and blushed again.

"Well....at the very least, I'm glad we got to spend some time together, you know?" he murmured, still smiling.

“Absolutely. I’ve got a long night of paperwork ahead of me, which I’m dreading, so this was nice. As chaotic as it was, you know I’m glad for the time we spend like this…not fighting battles with Decepticons, not sitting through conferences for battle plans and upgrades…I’m...really happy right now, Ginrai…”

He hugged Ginrai suddenly, trailing off. And after a moment, Ginrai smiled and hugged him back.

“I’ll ask more questions next time,” he murmured.

“I’ll be clearer as well. I was at fault here, too.”

"No way..."

"I was. So don't be too harsh on yourself for it."

“I love you,” Ginrai whispered finally, squeezing Hawk lightly.

“I love you, too…”

And I’m glad both of us come away with only mild cuts and burns, nothing more.

After a period of silent affection, Hawk drew back gently and gave a slight smirk.

“I’ll always love you,” he repeated, “even if you can’t cook to save your life.”

And they started laughing again.

Standing in a messy kitchen with the window open and wearing aprons that read silly things in English. Hawk, with a small burn on his hand, and Ginrai with bandages on his.

The pair laughed about the whole fiasco.

Sure, they’d go into something like $200 over their “ordering food” spending limit after tonight. If there was nothing left to eat from their cooking attempt, then ordering was their only Plan B.

But…tonight was a night to remember, like many others.

And, Hawk would be going into yet another paperwork session feeling less stressed than before.

For that, he was also glad.           

Who knew the good that could be accomplished by, well, setting pasta on fire?

///

#ginhawk #kuniwrites #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #writing #transformers fanfiction #tf #super god masterforce #transformers super god masterforce #super god masterforce fanfiction #for fun #scenario #Masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨

[sparklingpax]

Tales From Iacon - Part 5: The End of the World

A/N:

-Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

-HOLY CRACKERS ITS BEEN OVER A YEAR IM SO SORRY LMFAOO

-help what--no actually why is the plot of this chapter sdjdsjsdj yes its silly please dont laugh at meeee o////o

-yes by the way. despite the very long gaps between chapters, this series is definitely ongoing, I do have plans for future chapters I just....have to write them........... :'D

-BRUH this one is so long, I'm sorry, I'm bad at making things like. Not Drawn Out lmao--

-If you haven't read the other parts, and just as a reminder, this and all future chapters are set in the aligned continuity (tfp) oh and also! this is the first time ratchet meets megatronus; a bit anticlimactic maybe, but I thought it would be better to just have them meet sorta by coincidence. I do like the idea the three of them are friends, perhaps another reason why Ratchet is so resentful and bitter of Megatron later...anyways.

-at the end of the day, this and all the things I write are just for fun. If you think it's garbage or you just don't like it, that's valid...just scroll on by please ;w;

-ummmmmmm I really don't have anything else to add other than to have mercy on me with typos and the like, I'll edit them as I reread at later dates. and I hope you enjoy! :D

///

One fine evening—early morning, really—Megatronus received the worst news anyone could receive at such an ungodly hour.

Megatronus had passed out on his berth, having a much-needed rest for his sore, battered body after a particularly trying match against twin, rogue Insecticon prisoners.

About maybe an hour earlier, the huge mech had stumbled exhaustedly into his room and flopped down on the bed, huffing a relieved sigh as he felt the throbbing in all his limbs begin to dissipate.

Within moments, he’d fallen asleep.

His arm hung off the berthside, fingertips gently grazing the edge of his immobile, silent holopad. Everything was, for this one time, so still and peaceful.

So, when the device went off with a sudden and violent buzzing, Megatronus was instantly jerked awake—ripped from a calm rest in the realm of absolute nothingness, not even a dream.

His arm shot away from the floor, coming to rest uneasily on the bed with the rest of him.

Since the room had no light source, if the lights were off, it was pitch black inside. This little holopad had by itself, lit up the entire room, painting it with a decidedly eerie, turquoise light.

For a few moments, his optics blearily fixated on the object—glowing electric blue, emitting a frustratingly repetitive buzzing noise, and vibrating.

Vaguely, he recalled sending Orion a message about this to ask if he could turn that feature off.

And after Orion had in fact, explained this process...Megatronus had forgotten entirely, and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Of course, now he was being reminded of what had annoyed him enough to even ask about it in the first place.

Tomorrow. I’ll fix that infernal beeping tomorrow.

Still only half-awake, the large mech remained still, simply continuing to stare at the holopad. He felt a twinge of annoyance as exhaustion quickly crept back into him, as his whole body was taking a moment to remind him how tired and sore he was.  

Frag it—who the scrap is calling me at…

He squinted at the screen to see the time, printed in a neat, short, white font.  

“—3 in the morning?!”

He groaned, rubbing his face and hefting himself off the bed.

It would keep ringing if he didn’t do something about it. Like take the call.

“Primus give me patience,” he muttered as he picked it up…a little too late.  

Or, I could have waited for the damned thing to quiet itself. He’d forgotten that was a thing, too.

He watched as the screen went dark again for a couple moments, then lit up to read “missed call.”

Megatronus registered the profile picture and the name written beside it.

Orion?

Okay, so it was either important and life-changing, or something very strange.

Megatronus thought for a moment, feeling a bit more awake as he considered the possibility of something terrible soon to take place—or perhaps something unexpected in general.

That piqued his interest some.

Now I must know what he’d wanted at an hour like this.

The device started to buzz again.

Megatronus glared at it.

I’d like a round in the pits with the guy who designed this sound.

It had a particular way it bothered his audio receptors.

He sighed and tapped the ‘pick up’ button. Then, dropping it beside himself and lying back in his bed, the gladiator chuckled a little as he started speaking. The device darkened its screen again, leaving Megatronus to eye the darkness of his room once again.

“By the Primes, Orion—it’s 3 in the—”

“Megatronus.”

Instantly, he stopped, unnerved by the solemnity of his friend’s whispery tone.

His eyes searched the dark nothingness of his room as he waited in silence for whatever his friend was about to say. 

“What I am about to say, you may not believe….but it is something that could affect all of Cybertron…something of great magnitude—something…very dire…”

“Is…is that so?”

He felt uneasiness begin to well up from the pits of his stomach. The thought of this being a joke flashed through his processor before he reminded himself this was Orion making this call.  

He happens to be a terrible liar. I would know if he was messing with me.

Orion exhaled shakily over the call, filling the silence.

Megatronus tensed and slowly sat up, hearing the crackly sound of paper being unfurled from his device.

His confusion deepened, but interest locked his jaw shut as he waited.

Then at last, Orion told him.

“Megatronus, I—I found….a prophecy—a scroll. In it, the writing states…” A sharp rustling noise sounded from the holopad, “…it—it said our world will crumble away to…to nothing on the next full moon—the smaller one.”

Megatronus had…no idea when the full moons were to happen.

He did know, however, what “crumble away to nothing,” meant, and felt an apprehensive worry start to stiffen his body, turning over the revelation in his mind as Orion spoke more about the scroll.

“And…the time in simpler terms would be?”

A long pause, as if the archivist did not want to reply. 

“…I-In…two days.”

Megatronus was suddenly not as tired and sore as before.

///

The sun was shining very brightly in the sky, causing all the shinier structures and objects in sight—built from their reflective metals—to glint and shimmer. On a day as bright as this, it was like the streets of Iacon city, and all its things, became as jewels.

Yet such beautiful sights were not so eye-catching to Orion Pax today.

Instead, he had his optics trained on the ground below his feet. His figure was slumped over and seated on a lone park bench, head leaning on his palm. He tapped his foot to no particular rhythm, but more as an anxious motion to keep his mind at bay.

The buildings and the nature around him were only more distressing, actually, for Orion could only think about the immenant end of it all….set to happen a mere two days from the present, and counting.

He checked his holopad again, seeing the time and sharply sighing.

He’s late again…ohhh, we must do this today or never!! Come on, Megatronus, come on…

Footfalls directly behind Orion caused him to shoot upright and turn with a hopeful gaze—

“There you are!” He exclaimed.

Megatronus came around and took his seat, apologizing for the wait.

“Kaon is a long way, and bypassing the security is no easy feat…” he paused, “Though doable all the same.” He flashed his friend a confident smile, but it faltered when he realized Orion had gone back to staring at the ground in thought.  

Now is not the time for jokes, He reminded himself, trying to sober up. End of the world. Destruction. Right.  

Megatronus found his optics wandering from one bot to the next as they bustled by. He was used to this kind of silence, as the two often met in this park to talk, or to simply share each other’s company to contemplate things.

After a few moments of silence amidst the noise, Orion at last spoke up. His words were brisk.  

“I’ll take you to the Hall of Records and show you the scroll. While there, we must gather resources, find a means of escape, and craft a message to send to all the cities of Cybertron—”

Megatronus turned sharply at the last part.

“All of Cybertron?!”

“Yes, Megatronus!” Orion sounded as if it had been obvious. “We can’t just—”

“But—all its citizens, in all its cities?” He interjected. “Orion, it’s not possible!”

“Says who?”

“Logic!!”

“Logic is not the answer all the time, Megatronus!” Now, he was getting annoyed.

“No, Orion—” Megatronus found himself getting frustrated as well. “Be realistic!”

“I’m being realistic, and fair,” Orion fired back, leaning a little closer.

Now he really was upset. Megatronus grimaced.

“What other heartless arguments have you, Megatronus? You want to leave this planet alone and let everyone else just…die?!”

Megatronus felt his blood start to simmer.

Heartless? He was anything but heartless. The gladiator took a deep offense to that.

If there was anything he knew, it was what it felt like to be brushed off—as the “others” to be trampled on, overlooked, forgotten…left for scrap.

But he also remembered that it would be impractical to fight with Orion at this moment—more specifically, it would be a waste of time in the face of this great danger.

Orion….for all your book-smarts, you can be a fool all the same. You must be aware you can’t save everyone…or do ideals build for you kingdoms in the sky that you trust as reality?

“Perhaps…I am not seeing things from your perspective,” he yielded, in a quieter voice.

“That’s what I thought,” Orion snapped, then drew back and stood up. “Let’s go, Megatronus. There’s no time.”

Calmly, the burgundy-silver mech stood up and eyed his friend with an odd kind of gaze.

“I thought I’d have to tell you that,” he said.

Instantly Orion opened his mouth to respond, then realized his own mistake. Instead of owning up to anything, however, he huffed and turned on his heel, starting down the smooth sidewalk.

Megatronus watched him for a moment, feeling a little triumphant.

The world as we know it ends in two days…there really is no time.

He strode after Orion.

///

 “The fools are the ones with knowledge, and the fools are the ones without it….in essence, my friends…”

Ratchet turned the page.

“…we are all fools. Fools convinced of knowledge and science, but fools all the same in the greater scheme of things. We will never know it all…so let us resign ourselves to that fate, and strive to learn all we can.”

Ratchet stared at the last few words and let them sink in, trying to understand on an abstract level what it all meant. They were the final words for a novel he’d elected to read and write a report on for one of his university classes.

Yes, he was studying medicine and science and all that, but philosophy and studies on the mind and life couldn’t possibly hurt. In fact, Ratchet was convinced that he could only add more to the things he knew—the more to think on, the merrier.

His gaze lingered for a moment more on the final page, then he shut the book gently. Folding his servos, he let them rest lightly upon the sturdy, leather cover.

Wind swayed the leaves above him, so he let his head tilt back to stare at them, as if it was also moved by the breeze. 

Fools in this universe, huh?

Ratchet let his eyes close.

Perhaps now he would be able to finally catch up on the hours of sleep he’d missed with his late-night cramming nearly every night of this week….

“All of Cybertron?!”

Ratchet snapped forward at the loud voice, instantly annoyed.

Who the scrap is yelling and disturbing the peace of this park—

“Orion, it’s not possible!”

“Says who?!”

“Logic!!”

Ratchet made a face, realizing he knew those voices.

“Logic is not the answer all the time, Megatronus!”

Turning slowly, Ratchet found he was indeed correct. He watched as Orion and Megatronus heatedly conversed for a few more minutes, then stood up to leave. Orion stiffly marched out, Megatronus had remained standing for a moment before following at a quicker pace.

The two of them had been visibly annoyed with one another, he noted, only Megatronus seemed to be doing a better job of hiding it.

And that was as expected—Orion was known to wear his spark on the outside, so to speak. His emotions were upfront and clear most of the time.

Or at least, that’s how almost anyone who knew the mech would describe him.

“Orion,” Ratchet muttered, watching them finally fade into the crowds outside the park grounds. “What on Cybertron are you up to with that gladiator friend of yours?”

He sighed, rising from the bench and gathering his things.  

Yes, he more wanted to sit in the park and continue enjoying his free afternoon.

No, Ratchet had no worries about anyone’s safety.

But something in his spark tugged on him, urging him to follow them. Plus, Ratchet was a curious bot. He had to know what was up.

He made his way out of the park on the same path Orion and his friend had left.

It couldn’t possibly be something minor if it involved ‘all of Cybertron,’ after all.

///

“It’s back here,” Orion said, taking a left and heading into a side room.

Megatronus squinted with some effort and followed Orion into it, as the blue luminescence of huge computer screens and shelves upon shelves of active tablets was left behind them.

The room ahead was almost pitch black, for nothing in that room was alive but himself and his friend. After a few moments, his optics adjusted to the room, and he began to see the shapes of the room’s contents.

Megatronus found it interesting that there were so many physical documents left after all this time and modernization.

It was assumed most everything was coded and left on holopads these days; transcribed, moved to a digital form, archived on a device of some kind, and yet…what seemed to be hundreds of scrolls—and even stone artifacts, he noticed—lay before Megatronus.

He looked from left to right with every step forward, silently and in awe.

Orion previously explained that there had always been means for these things to be written in digital form, yet there was no real reason why these documents were not.

It was thus theorized by elder scholars that the authors of the stories and accounts had simply not had said tools at their disposal in those moments, and decided to note their experiences and observations with whatever they could. Either that, or for unexplained reasons, had chosen physical documentation over digital.

Up ahead, Megatronus could make out a small desk and chair, and heard Orion’s footsteps speed up as he made his way to it.

Well, as an aspiring archivist, he must know his way around without the lights. No wonder he walks ahead with such ease…

A sharp click sounded.

Very suddenly, everything was visible. Megatronus uttered a small noise and squinted again, this time slightly in pain. He had just gotten used to the darker lighting but…oh well.

“Now, we’ve got to put together our transmission message,” Orion started almost immediately.

Megatronus watched him begin the speedy ‘cleanup’ of his messy desk—shoving things in drawers, moving the stray papers into piles and crushing them into an open science textbook. A few things clattered accidentally off the reddish wood, while others plummeted off the surface quite intentionally.

It is somehow…cute to watch him scurry about like this.

Orion eyed some papers tacked to his wall, then removed and relegated them to the floor as well.

“I see you keep a tidy workspace,” Megatronus observed with an innocent tone.

Orion threw him a look, but the larger mech could see the suppressed edges of a smile before Orion turned back to his desk and began opening files on his computer.

After a couple moments of quiet except for the typing, Orion motioned for Megatronus to come closer so he could help out. It was then that he noticed one paper had been left on the archivists’ desk, rolled shut.

Staring at it, he asked, “Does this paper tell us of our doom?”

Orion nodded, beginning to type out what was probably his evacuation plea—or a draft of it, at least. So Megatronus carefully picked it up and turned it over in his servos, handling it with as much care as he could.

Then, he opened it.

What he found, however, was not a terrifying prophecy. What he found was—

“Orion, what the scrap is this?” He muttered, holding it closer and squinting at it. He let it roll shut again and placed it on the desk. “It’s all meaningless scribbles! And you mean to tell me you got ‘the world ends soon’ from it?”

“It does say that,” Orion muttered back, continuing to type. “That’s old Cybertronian.”

Megatronus blinked. He didn’t even know there was an ‘old Cybertronian.’ 

“Which I can read…” Orion finally stopped typing, seeming to realize something. “Or, well, that’s to say…”

The gladiator raised an eyebrow. He didn’t like the sound of that unease in his friend’s voice. He was about to ask another question when the two of them heard someone was coming down the hall.  

And sure enough, someone Megatronus had never seen before poked his head through the doorway.

“Ratchet!” Orion exclaimed, perking up and waving. For a moment, Megatronus observed, all the apprehension had seemed to disappear.  

Megatronus frowned in thought, watching the mech pick his way through the piles of scrolls until he was next to Orion’s desk. Finally, it hit him, where he’d heard that name before.

“And you are…the medical student?”

Ratchet broke off what he’d started saying to Orion and looked him up and down. He then nodded.

“And you must be Megatronus, the…warrior from Kaon,” he returned looking very serious.

“Gladiator. Though I enjoy the title of ‘warrior.’”

“Right.”

There was a short pause.

“Though I am by law not allowed in these streets, I’ve found the law to be quite shabby at their job of keeping those like myself…out.”

“Seems these days we’re all figuring something out about our…illustrious leaders, and their idea of a functional society,” Ratchet said sarcastically.

Orion leaned back in his chair to look at them both, worrying they might be sizing each other up or something.

Then, Ratchet grinned.

“Well, Megatronus, I don’t have my degree yet, but if you’ve anything you’d like me to take a look at…” He offered, extending his servo.

Megatronus chuckled, and shook it firmly.  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve only heard your name from Orion, after all.”

“Same here.”  

Thank the Allspark, no hostility.

Orion sighed quietly, then got back to work.

He’d let Megatronus get to know Ratchet a little better rather than demand any more of this focus for this. Besides, Orion wanted to write the transmission himself.

He scanned the place he’d left off, his second paragraph, reading it off in his mind to get back into the writing flow.

‘Though it may seem hard to believe,’ he typed, ‘I can assure you that this is a very real threat. One that I believe we must heed. Fellow Cybertronians, we must remember that our race is one of change. Moving homes is a large leap, but it will be necessary—’  

“‘—if we are to survive what our elders have warned’…” Ratchet’s voice startled Orion, quickly realizing he and Megatronus had quietly moved to watch over the archivist’s shoulder as he was writing. Finishing that sentence, he stopped again, having lost concentration once more.

He turned to request that Ratchet not read over his shoulder like that, and then to ask what Megatronus thought of the announcement so far, but Ratchet spoke first.

“Orion.”

“Ratchet..?”

Megatronus took a small step back, curious to see what was about to happen.

The university student had an expression on his face that read something of a mix between confusion and amusement. Orion stared back at him with full seriousness.

Ratchet wordlessly leaned closer and scrolled up the screen to read the draft in full, murmuring quietly each word while Orion sat back and began to fiddle with his fingers again.

And then, finally, it seemed Ratchet had read all he needed because when he drew back, he rested his face in his palms for a second, then started laughing.

No, really laughing.

It went on for a little while before the young archivist finally cut in with an inquiry as to what could be so funny. He was starting to look more embarrassed than indignant. Megatronus had no idea what was going on, but was too amused to interrupt.

Funny, if I’d laughed at him again, we might be arguing right now.

“It—it’s—” Ratchet struggled, still laughing. He fell against the wall, trying to compose himself. Orion turned around, rolling his optics and starting to type again before Ratchet finally turned to Megatronus.

“You—you’re aware of this, aren’t you?” He caught sight of the scroll lying on Orion’s desk. It was like he already knew. “And what do you make of it?”

Megatronus shrugged.

“Can’t even read it, ‘old Cybertronian,’ or something. Truth be told, I’m not very adept with reading anyway.”

“Hm. But Orion said he…can?”

Suddenly, the gladiator realized where this was going.

Orion stopped typing again, but didn’t turn around. Meanwhile, Ratchet reached over and picked up the scroll, unraveling it.

“Well, I can,” Ratchet murmured, scanning the text to confirm his suspicions, “and it seems Orion...has misread the entire text completely.”

///

Ratchet finally returned from the shop and handed Megatronus and Orion their respective cups of warmed, sweetened Energon, shaped as crystals for some seasonal event.

Megatronus received his and thanked Ratchet, Orion took his in silence, still not meeting anyone’s gaze. The three of them walked in silence to the edge of the street and stopped.

Then, finally, Megatronus broke the silence, “Oh, Orion, it’s not the end of the world!” He tried a playful jab.

“Indeed. If you’re worried, no one’s upset with you,” Ratchet added, placing a gentle servo on his shoulder. “It’s better that you misread it, actually.”

“Exactly! Our world is safe.”

“No crumbling, no destruction…” Ratchet paused, sighing. Less excitedly, he continued, “And I can finish getting my degree.”

But the archivist merely took a bite out of his treat, optics still trained on the ground, absolutely silent.

As it had turned out, Orion had been reorganizing and archiving the roomful of old physical documents, in place of Alpha Trion (who was attending to an important matter in another city), and he had seen the scrolls in the dark of early morning. Naturally, he’d not slept, and was tired. In addition to that, he didn’t even know old Cybertronian well enough to decipher the entirety of the text, which had stated…this scroll was merely a draft for a story. Orion was self-taught, so he could read some of it, but well...he needed more practice with it.

What he might have done—had he not decided to read its contents and simply file it by the code on the back—would be to place it on the shelf for old texts by famous or unknown authors. Instead, he misinterpreted it to be a real prophecy, spelling out doom, coincidentally falling on their current year.

Thankfully, before he and Megatronus had made fools of themselves by sending an 'overdramatically poetic evacuation notice'—as Ratchet had worded it—Orion's friend had read over the transmission, the scroll, and clarified what was actually written there.

It was then also that Ratchet had finally seen the value of that required class he’d taken his first year of university, learning old Cybertronian. It was boring, but it had finally come in handy.

As one could guess, however, Orion was incredibly embarrassed. It seemed he had no intention to speak for the rest of the day.

Ratchet and Megatronus exchanged looks, then moved closer to their friend. They really didn’t want him to feel bad.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have lost it like that earlier, Ratchet thought, inwardly cringing at the memory of his laughter in the silence of the room. After all, the two had been fully convinced this was a very real threat.

“Orion, you can’t possibly take a vow of silence for life,” Megatronus tried again, in a joking tone. He bent down to look him in the eyes, and finally Orion met his gaze.

And finally, the archivist spoke.

“I…um…” he shifted to the side, as if debating whether to turn away from his friends or remain facing them. “I…apologize for…the confusion I caused.”

“Oh, Orion, it’s not—”

“And the panic. And…” he reached out and touched Megatronus’ shoulder plate. “For snapping at you in the manner I did. Even in a real situation of danger, I must learn not to lose my composure like that, and I must learn on my own, not through hurting my own friends first.”

He dropped his arm again and took another bite of his treat. Megatronus and Ratchet followed suit, and the three shared another moment of quiet thought.

“Hey,” Ratchet prompted, a little awkwardly. “I owe you an apology too. I should’ve handled it with a little less…” he sighed. “I should have been more charitable towards how you were seeing it.”

“And I shouldn’t have joined in,” Megatronus added. “You were probably embarrassed and…had got the point already. In fact, you haven’t much to apologize for, Orion.”  

Orion regarded both Ratchet and then Megatronus before he started down the street again, looking at the sky. His friends followed.

“No, Megatronus, I have things to apologize for. But…” he looked at them again, this time with a smile of his own. “I suppose I see now the humor in it all.”

And the trio shared the rest of the twilight hours together, traipsing the streets of Iacon. At nightfall, they said their goodbyes. Ratchet and Megatronus left together for the city gates, since they were both leaving Iacon. The medical student offered to help get Megatronus past security, and the larger mech accepted with a grin.

Orion watched them go, pleased with how it seemed they had befriended one another. Afterward, he headed back down the path they’d come, deciding along the way that archiving the rest of those scrolls could not be completed unless he was in the right mindset—and that required some much-needed sleep.

As he walked, he continued to look at the sky, at the moon not yet full, chuckling to himself as he remembered just how panicked he’d been only hours ago. But more than embarrassment was relief.

Cybertron will continue to be my home for millennia to come. I will see the faces of my friends and mentors, and have the privilege to gaze upon the wonders of life and the universe for just as long.  

He heard shouting from another street and stopped to watch as a group of similarly shaped bots emerged from a restaurant, shouting and whooping, arms together and surrounding the one in the center, who looked bashful, but happy. As he gazed at them, he noticed each had scratches, chips, and one even had a couple wires hanging from their arm.

Laborers. This must be a communal establishment.

Orion also noticed what looked like a bouncer standing behind the window, arms folded and features grim. The large mech was glaring at them, looking ready to shove them off the street and into the road if they lingered any longer.

The giddy group, however, made their way off and down the street, and the bouncer-looking bot nodded, heading back into the mass of Cybertronians in the building.

Orion continued on his way, still thinking.

Life is not so perfect as one might imagine. Ideals must be relegated to thought, they are not reality. But...rather than worry about finding a new home, we may all continue to work towards peace and equality. Towards a Cybertron where no bar must be “communal” or “private” for one to go in and celebrate something with friends.

There was hope yet for their world, in more ways than one.

And for that, I am truly grateful.

///

I actually hate this chapter help it was more interesting in my head--

#transformers prime #tfp #transformers prime fanfiction #transformers prime fanfic #tfp fanfiction #tfp fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #kuniwrites #tales from iacon #tf #transformers fanfiction #maccadam #megatronus #orion pax #tfp megatronus #tfp orion pax #orion pax and megatronus #story #for fun #<3 #ratchet #tfp ratchet #transformers prime ratchet #transformers stuff

[sparklingpax]

A look through his optics

From this ✨ // (Continued requests: open)

Okie so~

...

-fine, taking a meaning and making a very predictable reading of it for a story, but A Headmasters fic (set before the events in the anime) where Chromedome has (like for the hundredth time I'll bet) argument with Cerebros about wanting to move out on a mission, but needing to wait--like, he wants to know if Cerebros is a coward to always want to try anything except directly fighting when that usually works! So he snaps and goes out into the field during one of their battles. Everyone else is preoccupied, grappling with Decepticons or escaping a hail of blasterfire. As Chromedome breaks the formation, Cerebros sees him, tries to stop him, and ends up taking a shot for the mech, instantly immobilized and rendered unconscious.

At first, Chromedome doesn't see him, but then, he hears Highbrow shouting in panic, "Commander's been hit! We need to retreat!" and then Hardhead, as he leaves his cover and starts calling Cerebros' name. Chromedome finally turns and sees what's happening, and without a second thought, the Headmasters hoist Cerebros to his feet and manage to escape back to their ship, where they fly off and away from the planet they were on, to buy some time while they figure out what just happened. It's at this time, that Chromedome starts to realize what happened, and feels a heavy, sinking guilt. Added to the fact that no one but him knows that it's his fault Cerebros is badly hurt, he's also realizing that he was in fact, wrong. This is what can happen when you disobey orders made with the best interests of the team in mind. He also learns that the team has voted him to be acting commander, seeing as how they all have a lot of their own duties to perform on the ship, so Chromedome would work best in this role. He accepts, now feeling even worse.

So, the time goes by that's needed for Cerebros to recover, and about two or three weeks later, the commander regains consciousness, right as Chromedome is visiting his quarters to sit in quiet thought. Leading the ship like this has taught him a lot, and while he still doesn't agree with Cerebros' sentiments in battle, he realizes what they're worth, and is silently vowing to listen to him from now on, so this never happens again. And as if reading his mind, Cerebros asks him if he realizes now, why it's important to act as a teammate on a team, rather than as an individual? He nods. Cerebros smiles. Chromedome then tells him everything he's had to endure suddenly being in charge now, and what he didn't realize about how difficult it was to make decisions when there's no one to tell you what the right or wrong answers are, and when you really think about how it could affect everyone involved.

"Well, there's no use lecturing you, since I think you understand. In the meantime, I'm thankful for the job you've done taking care of the ship, seeing as how you're all alive and no one has gotten into any trouble, or been injured. I'll be back to command soon enough."

"Glad to hear it!" Chromedome responds, feeling relived. He's realized, taking a look through a leader's eyes at a team, and walking in his proverbial shoes, what responsibility weighs, and how glad he is that he has a commander like Cerebros in charge, rather than himself.

...

lmfaoo ok I basically wrote the fic o///o well anyways, hope you like that!

-Kuni :)

#headmasters #transformers #tf #transformers headmasters #maccadam #writing #fanfiction #ideas #thoughts #fic ideas #synopsis #kuniwrites #asks #kuni talks #kuni answers #<3 #transformers fanfiction #transformers headmasters fanfiction #*detaches head* hey guys ✨✨ #chromedome #cerebros #highbrow #hardhead #g1

[sparklingpax]

Anything about Minerva's backstory, or basically all the Valiance's kids past lives?

HI!

HOLY FUCK I UM. SO. I KNOW THIS WAS IN MY ASKBOX & I KEPT SAYING "later, I'll answer this when i finish this thing" & THEN FORGOT SO MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES BECAUSE ITS LITERALLY BEEN MONTHS LMAO--

But moving on to answer your ask, I just want to say I don't have fully-fleshed out/finalized storylines yet, but I have some ideas floating around! For the most part, I'm glad with what I've come up with in my various notes and ideas, but stuff could still change :D After all, I'm including ages and all that, so I'm trying to work out a timeline of events that makes actual sense...bear with me as I gradually lay things out and work out kinks in the timing of things.

I'd like to start with how they got involved with the Valiance team!

///

Note: all three of them attend the same high school (working on a name, will probably be a reference to masterforce when I do come up with it) and have been friends for years--like, since elementary school.

...

Basically, Shuta's dad used to know Hawk, so Shuta does too (I'll elaborate when I get to Shuta's backstory). One thing leads to another, and one day, while the kids are having a normal school day, a natural disaster-related occurrence causes the kids' school to be in danger, and so Hawk and the only members of the team at the time (Landmine, Waverider) swoop in and save the day. During all the commotion, Shuta gets trapped under something, and Hawk ends up saving xim. As they're flying away from the danger, both of them realize at the same time they...know one another! And before Shuta can freak out and start asking questions, Hawk quickly drops xim off and flies away again to help anyone else in danger.

But, Shuta tracks down Hawk--knowing he likes to hang out at this one coffee shop sometimes--and ends up persuading him to let them (Shuta, Minerva, Cab) go with him and see the base, at least. He's known Hawk for years....and Hawk can do nothing but sigh and relent.

(Sorta similar to Masterforce, actually) when Hawk meets with Shuta, Minerva, and Cab, he asks them very seriously if they understand what they're asking to help with, if they are ready for this responsibility--if they are serious about this. Naturally, all three say yes, Shuta adding xe wants to make his parents proud, doing this. Hawk nods understandingly.

So the kids see the base, and start regularly coming to the base, helping out...eventually moving in, and more officially joining the team, taking on training and/or specific designated jobs around the HQ.

Also! Shortly after the kids join, the teacher who runs their their chemistry and engineering classes at their school joins--the one and only: Satsuki Knight.

And that's a whole thing. So after that point, you get stuff like during school days, Cab trying to persuade Satsuki to let slide one or two assignments, only to be told sternly that they made that decision to join the team, and in doing so also took on a responsibility to manage their own life in addition to school things. Cab relents, makes up the assignments. Or--another specific example--a moment where Satsuki leaves early to join a fight and the kids exchange looks, decided they can't just sit back and watch, and find a way to sneak out, only to be scolded by Satsuki (and other members of the team, but mainly Satsuki) when they show up at the base. But when the kids are interrogated by the school's principal the next day as to their disappearances, Satsuki ends up covering for them.

Idk I think this dynamic would be super cool and theres a lot you could do with it?? Like the "secret double life" kinda trope except not only does the teacher know about it, but is also participating in it??? sdksdkjsdjsd ok moving on--

///

Individual backstories!

Brace yourself, I'm going to ramble for a long while.

Once again, these are a work in progress! I'm taking from a mix of canon and my own ideas that I feel like would be interesting at least. Also, they are in order of who moved in first, so Minerva was the first, then Shuta, then Cab.

OH and may I just say, if I have named someone after a Person and I should not use that name, it was entirely unintentional, I'm going off my notes here. As for places, I'm trying to use real locations, but any "cafes" or "schools" or specific places are not real, because this is a fictional alternate universe....so yes, real areas and locations/cities/countries/etc, but the buildings and research centers for example? Not real. idk if that makes sense--

Also, again, I'm trying to use a combination of canon details and my own ideas. So y'all? Please...do not attack me thank you--

...

Minerva Marie (She/Her, 17)

Parents: Mallow and Stephen Marie (both are alive; Mallow is French, teaches painting and figure drawing classes at a college in Paris. Stephen is from England, and is also a teacher, at a university in Japan, I will explain why in a minute--)

History stuff: Minerva used to live in France, up until her father was offered the opportunity to teach at the sister school to the university he was currently working at, which was in Japan. The family had a discussion and came to the conclusion that it wouldn't hurt for her father to take this job--it was a higher-paying position, too--and for Minerva to see somewhere outside of her home country. So she and Stephen moved into Fujikawaguchiko, where her dad is going to work. Minerva goes to a public school in the area--where she ends up meeting Cab and Shuta. She does a lot of stuff, lives her life, and the events that cause her to join Valiance happen. When she decides she wants to move into the HQ, she sits her dad down to talk about it, but he stops her immediately and tells her that he trusts what she does with her life and her time, that she doesn't need to "report to him" or anything, and asks her only to make sure she takes good care of herself and her dreams. They share a fond moment. Naturally, she'll come and visit her dad's apartment, or go with him when he makes his trips back to France to be with Mallow on holidays and such. But after joining the team, most of her time is spent at Valiance HQ.

Powers: Minerva does indeed have them~ With a touch, she can feel the very feelings of anyone, and occasionally, she can hear someone's actual thoughts, though the latter is much harder and more physically/mentally taxing on her, so she doesn't do it much. She is the last of the kids to figure out she actually has powers, so she's 17 when she realizes. She's always known herself to be good with empathy, but after a couple significant occurrences during her time on Valiance, Minerva realizes this has to be a step above simple "empathy." She finally tells Cloudburst, during one of their training sessions, when she delivers a practice blow to him and feels an injury he's been hiding and nearly faints from the pain. Cloudburst is shocked and concerned, but she convinces him not to go tell anyone and explains what happened. They have a conversation about it, and Cloudburst tells her she has powers, and then admits that it's not a good idea to do what he's doing, so they conclude the session early so he can tend to his injury properly, and so she can go think all this over in her room. In the time following, she starts to practice using this power more consciously in hopes of getting to a point where she can use them at will to help the team.

Roles on the team: Minerva currently does medical-related things for the team, is the a communications operator (like, on the comm line when missions are happening, keeping track of members' coordinates or looking at stats and maps if someone else can't...yk computer stuff--), and is training under Cloudburst--who is coincidentally also helping her learn German--for combat stuff so she can "graduate" and join the rest of the team on the battlefield once she's 18. Landmine also teaches her combat things, but mainly trains her in various kinds of fighting that involve weapons.

Shuta Go (Xe/He, 17)

Parents: [Oh boy. Shuta did not have a kind childhood.] Xis parents are both Japanese, their names are Kiko and Daisuke Go...and both are dead. Kiko was a creative writer, his father was an astrophysicist. Shuta's current guardian is xis uncle, Hajime Go.

History stuff: Shuta was born in Yokohama, and had a happy little family life until Kiko died in a tragic car accident. Shuta was 4 when this happened, too young to remember it. Daisuke decided soon after that there was no good in them living in a place that reminded him so much of Kiko, the wife he so loved and had been married to since college. So he resigns from his current job and the two move to a different town and into Shuta's uncle's house, since the guy had enough space and was struggling with living alone. Shuta begins attending a school there (Shuta is 8 at this point). This is the same school Minerva and Cab attend, and xe makes friends with them. Meanwhile, Daisuke finds a new job in his field of work, at a cool research center built near Mt. Fuji (like, the location of the actual base in Masterforce canon, because this is what becomes the location of Valiance HQ, you will see why soon enough--). On the team of scientists, after a couple years on the job, he befriends a young 17-year-old intern...Hawk. Shuta (13 now) meets Hawk, who starts coming over to their place quite often, to talk about whatever projects they're working on at the lab, and a young Shuta listens intently to the science-y banter between Daisuke and the intern. Sometimes, Hawk helps Shuta with schoolwork, or attends school events with xis dad and uncle. So, Shuta's dad and Hawk (who gets the full-time position on the team at 19) end up accomplishing various things, making them both respected members of their team and life is normal again for Shuta...until one day, Daisuke is the victim of a mistaken assassination. (Shuta is 16 when that happens.) At the same observatory, there was a different group working on something to do with time travel, and there was gang involvement that led to one of its members being targeted. On a dark night, the assassin mistook Shuta's dad--who was reorganizing one of the labs in the late hours--for his target and killed him before realizing. The guy tried to escape, but was caught and thrown in jail, and Shuta's life was torn apart all over again. Now it was just him and Hajime in the house, with Hawk coming by to visit every now and then, or Shuta ran into him at a coffee shop in town. Only a week or two after Shuta's dad is killed, Hawk admits to Shuta that the center was on its very last legs with funding, and after the incident, all funding was pulled, and the center was shut down and abandoned. Hawk fortunately finds a new job, at a different research center but it's around this time that Hawk ends up returning to the abandoned one and begins using it as an HQ, inspired to action out of grief over losing his mentor and friend. A year later, the events I mentioned end up happening, and that leads us to present time, where Shuta and the others are a part of the team. Shuta's uncle becomes more reclusive and quiet after Daisuke dies, so Shuta eventually gives up on coming home every night and moves into the HQ, calling (or visiting) Hajime every now and then so he can make sure Shuta is alive and doing fine.

Powers: Shuta has the power of invisibility!! Xe discovered this at the age of 10, in the middle of the night, during a storm. Shuta thought the noises from outside were someone else inside the house, after checking on his uncle and dad, and finding them asleep in their rooms. Shuta went to investigate, and reached the kitchen, where there happened to be a mirror, and flipped on the light at the same instant lighting flashed, causing him to think there actually was a person standing in the doorway (it was only the coatrack), and this activated the invisibility. Shuta saw that his reflection was no longer there, and concluded either this was a hallucination, or a really cool skill. In the days following, Shuta tried this various times, and every time xe willed invisibility, it happened. Actually, perhaps it had happened before 10 years old, Shuta would ponder sometimes, but there was no way to tell since it didn't take too much concentration for it to work. Shuta never told Minerva or Cab until after the three joined Valiance, and was worried they'd think this was weird, but was pleasantly surprised when Minerva thought it was very cool, and Cab revealed his animal powers. Since Shuta doesn't plan on going into fighting scenarios if it can be helped, xe doesn't use the invisibility powers often, but understands how valuable it is to have this if there ever is a dangerous situation where it would come in handy.

Roles on the team: Shuta starts off as the secondary tech/communications operator, usually assisting Minerva or taking over if for any reason she can't be at her station. Keeping that role, after Satsuki joins, Shuta also begins training under him in various sciences and assists with a lot of the lab/mechanical stuff the team needs (this could mean a number of things, like designing or repairing things, going over specs and schematics with Hawk and Satsuki...). Xe recieves some basic combat training from Landmine, but no more than learning self-defense and how to use some weapons. Shuta hopes to become a third official team "scientist," helping out full-time with whatever Satsuki and Hawk are doing for the team.

Cab Homura (He/They/It, 17)

Parents: Jina and Nobu Homura. Jina is Kenyan, and works in finances. Nobu is Japanese, and is a chef. Both are alive.

History stuff: Cab's mom, set on working in finances, makes her way to Japan as a young woman, studies at university, and achieves just that. Along the way, in a bus that missed her stop, she meets a man who she starts talking to while she waits for the next stop. One thing leads to another and she later marries Nobu, who is starting up his culinary career. A couple years after getting married, Cab is born. At this point, Nobu was starting to hit it off as a chef, and Jina was still succeeding in her career. When he's about 5, the family decides that it's high time they move to somewhere quieter than their current location, so Cab can have a slower-paced and more peaceful childhood, and with the intent of starting a more "family-oriented" life rather than "work-oriented." It is a loving family, and of course, all holidays, birthdays, etc are spent together, but Cab's parents still end up out of the house and at their jobs most days, often not coming home--especially when Cab is older. But Cab doesn't mind it as he's not alone, usually. Cab enjoys many activities/clubs in school or around the town, and they understand and are fine with the family situation. Somewhere around second grade, Cab meets and immediately befriends both Shuta and Minerva. Being outgoing and friendly, Cab already has a lot of acquaintances or buddies, but to them, only Shuta and Minerva count as actual friends. Anyway, once the kids join Valiance, Cab ends up moving into the HQ after learning that both Shuta and Minerva did, excited at the prospect of getting to live so close to their friends! Cab keeps all of their activities at HQ a secret from his parents, making sure to be home when either or both come home, or to have an explanation if not. Over many years, Cab has found much solace in the act of trying anything and everything they can, but especially in writing (poetry and song lyrics, or short stories), as well as in tech-related stuff. Also! Cab is the one who discovers Pon-pon, and secretly feeds the cat as it hangs around outside the HQ until that is discovered and Pon-pon is more officially adopted by the team.

Powers: Cab has powers! The power to talk to/understand animals. They discover this around the age of 8, when they suddenly realize one day that they weren't imagining understanding what the birds were saying in the mornings before school, and eventually tries talking back to them. It works. So they try talking to other animals. This works too, and Cab deduces that talking to animals must be some weird cool skill people probably just have! After joining Valiance, Cab talks this over with other members of the team, and they all come to the conclusion that this is a power, and so far, Cab is the only one to have this that they know of.

Roles on the team: Cab does a lot of tech work for the team (not including being the third assistant for a communications operator), and works often with Satsuki and Shuta on any inventions they're working on, though mainly just in the programming/coding/etc kinda stuff. Malware problems, system damage, all that kind of thing ends up relegated to Cab, who enjoys it especially if it's a challenge. He also volunteers to test out new inventions or gadgets, creates his own sometimes. Finally, Cab trains for combat stuff under Waverider and Landmine, learning at about the same level as Minerva, and hoping to graduate into a full-time member, aiming to be able to be both a fighter and in the "science department" with Satsuki, Shuta, and Hawk.

///

HOLY WOW OK SO. SUPER REALLY LONG INFODUMP, AGAIN, STILL WORKING THINGS OUT & IM SO SORRY IF TYPOS BUT LIKE....YEA! That's some history on the kids!! :D

-Kuni :3

#reverie: lights of tomorrow #reverie au #au #kuni does au things #writing #worldbuilding #ideas #thoughts #kuniwrites #super god masterforce au #superhero au #kuni rambles #cab #cab homura #shuta #shuta go #minerva #minerva marie #hawk kaito #hawk #infodump #no like a major infodump if you read all this youre really cool and im sorry you had to put up with this-- #hope someone out there finds this interesting #i invest so much thought and brainspace to this au ofc im gonna be super specific and bent on details #this is a passion project for me let me LIVE skjdsjsdjk #team: valiance 💙💫

[sparklingpax]

i like to imagine that ginrai's transtector as it's implied to be sentient kinda acts like a wingman to ginrai when he goes on dates with hawk- IT'S JUST A DUMB HC I GOT BUT IT'S GINHAWK RELATED SO

HI HELLOOOO UHH, THAT IS NOT DUMB I LOVE IT???? 🥺💕💖✨

(Sorry I didn't respond for days btw, I saw this one morning while half asleep and then I fell asleep again before finally getting up and getting ready for school; didn't think about again it until like minutes ago when I remembered, I have an ask I need to answer! Lmao my brain 🥲)

OK. BUT ANYWAYS THIS IS SUCH AN ADORABLE CONCEPTTTT 🥹 And also would totally work!!

To preface, I'm assuming you're referring to Godbomber (?) So.....apologies if I misinterpreted you and wrote this following crazy ramble for the wrong reasons...here I go anwyays 🤪🤭✨

I'm not sure if this is a headcanon I have or if this was ever mentioned, but like Ginrai and Godbomber being like emotionally/spiritually connected so they have like a semi-symbiotic kinda relationship going on, where if Ginrai was panicking or something, Godbomber would maybe step in or offer "words" of advice (like sending feelings that Ginrai understands in a more abstract sense rather than something like telepathy).

Ginrai getting flustered at forgetting something he'd wanted to tell Hawk and Godbomber sending calming vibes and then Ginrai remembering and calming down as a result (bonus, he practiced saying it to Godbomber).

Him being a DJ for the two of them, like tapping into the system of Ginrai's truck or something like that. Perhaps, if you will, cheekily playing songs that fit the mood so well the pair notice and start laughing. Careless Whisper suddenly, as Hawk starts falling asleep against Ginrai's shoulder one night, and they both jolt awake and snap around. Ginrai feels what would be laughter coming from the mech, sitting quietly further down the hill, and chuckles. Hawk can kinda grasp what's happening, and laughs a little as well.

Or let's say Hawk and Ginrai go out for a drive, and Ginrai brings his truck (like the entire thing, Godbomber included, and they stop somewhere to just sit around, drink some beers, talk....they think to head back but they're both drunk and drinking and driving's a bad idea (no flying either, looking at you, Hawk 🫣 tho I feel like he'd just suggest it and then be like "Oh wait, I shouldn't" and they'd go back to contemplating what to do). Then Godbomber rolls up! Ginrai and Hawk exchange relieved expressions. Ginrai calls a "Thanks, buddy!" as they hop in, and they let him take charge driving them and the truck back to HQ.

Idk if my rambling here makes sense but anon, thank you for this 😭🙏 headcanon accepted 🥰

-Kuni 💗

#kuni talks #kuni answers #asks #anon asks #headcanons #hcs #scenarios #kuniwrites #(kinda) #<3 #transformers #tf #Transformers super god masterforce #super God Masterforce #masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨ #ginrai #hawk #Godbomber #ginhawk #anime #transformers anime

[sparklingpax]

Happenings

The little things...happenings of seemingly little importance. But in long and tiring course of life, it’s often those little moments of nothing which occur, that we remember forever. 

///

A/N: GUYSSS ok so I know I took an age and a half to actually write this, and yes this is actually the thing I polled about writing, but that’s because...this isn’t just one story....it’s a couple short ones! Tried writing just one, but I didn’t like that very much....at least, not alone. One you might have already seen, but I’m adding it for the sake of adding it....idk. Hope that’s alright ^^’‘

Point is......idk, this was a fun little experiment of writing I wanted to try out, and I just hope you enjoy it. I really really love the idea that the Decepticons were somewhat of a family, too. In fact, the way it’s like, highkey canon.....is so good qwq 💖 I didn’t really get to touch on every dynamic I enjoy, but I will eventually....and believe that because as you know with me, eventually always happens, even if it’s like a year+ of waiting.....sorry

And some extra things: 

Set in canon (disclaimer ig, I know the difference between hcs and actual canon and I understand that setting it in canon does not make it canon, but it is still in that setting...things have been crazy lately so I just felt like clarifying that!)

I definitely have a couple typos and oddly-written stuff here....I’ll be modifying it in coming days, but for now....please just ignore it?? ;w; 

The POINT of this was to focus on mundane things (a couple of exceptions) so...idk, sorry if that’s not to your taste?? Yay if you enjoyed it tho???? o///o’

Im...gonna put this here I guess: the only romantic relationship here is Giga/Mega....they’re literally married, anyway. As for everyone else...platonic friendship/familial type stuff! Just...to be clear! :]

All of these take place at like different intervals of time, it is not one big "linear" story

....anyway...with all that said....enjoy! 

///

“Would you please cut that out.”

 The boy across from him abruptly froze, making Hydra realize the sting of his tone. He hadn’t intended that, of course, but…he was busy…

 “Sorry for snapping,” he mumbled, not looking up from his laptop. “But if you keep tapping your pen like that, I can’t focus.” 

 Cancer seemed as if debating to pretend he didn’t hear him or to simply not respond. Well, maybe he was only left with one choice, he realized, as his quick glances likely gave away the fact that he’d heard Hydra. He opted to move his textbook to his lap and slowly put his head down on the table to read instead.

 They lapsed into silence, but an awkward one now. 

Hydra felt a twinge in his stomach. He didn’t really mean to snap at the boy, and part of him wished he’d left it alone altogether.

 Well…what’s done is done. 

Cancer had taken to the library area of their expansive base to catch up on some studying of his own. As he wasn’t exactly able to attend school…this was as best as it'd get for an education. 

Well...for now, anyway.

As he was self-studying, he’d also found he had a tendency to fidget as a method to focus better, and usually no one minded the noise it made because there was no one around. 

Today, however and unfortunately, he wasn’t alone in here as usual. 

 His eyes flitted up and down quickly, stealing a quick glance at Hydra. 

The man was staring intently at something on the screen, brow furrowed in thought. Every so often, he looked to his left, probably referencing a book of his own. Then, he’d type…fix his glasses, check the book again, and type, type…

 “Can I help you?” 

 Cancer gasped, realizing he must’ve been staring, and ducked his head back to reading his own book so fast…that he hit it on the table’s edge. 

“OW!!!!”

 His head against the wood coupled with the choked screech of an exclamation of pain made such a loud noise that Hydra jolted a bit and stopped typing. When the noise died down and was replaced with silence, he found his gaze ticking upwards, almost hesitantly. 

He found himself swallowing, wondering if the boy was alright. On the other side of the table, Cancer had his head down, and seemed not to be moving, except for…

 “Cancer-kun?” Hydra said rather softly. In fact, in a softer tone than he’d expected to give, actually. He made a face at this tangential thought briefly, then abandoned it immediately and tried again when he didn’t get a response. “Oi, Cancer, are you—”

 “S-s-s…sorry…sorry….” 

His brow furrowed again, fully with worry this time. Why was he…?

 “...Cancer?”

Oh, he realized suddenly, Cancer was crying. It took a moment for him to move again, taking a couple steps around the table and coming up next to Cancer, who seemed to shy away as he got closer. 

He’s crying, Hydra, you made the boy cry. Good job. 

 He felt a bead of sweat on his forehead as he realized he was far from well-versed in how to deal with something like this. But then, there was also common sense, which he thought to try. 

 First, I need to apologize. 

He made an awkward noise, adjusting his glasses. Then, he took a seat next to the boy. He was suddenly having flashbacks to similar experiences with Buster. Except then, the two had been young children, and he knew Buster closely…

“Are, uh…was that you?” 

You’re supposed to ask ‘are you okay,’ dumbass. What the hell was that? 

But it seemed to grab Cancer’s attention, and he peeked up at Hydra for a couple moments before rising, a hand gently over the spot on his forehead where he’d slammed into the table at full force. Hydra made another noise of surprise, then cleared his throat and tried again. 

“Cancer, are you alright?”

“Sorry–” Cancer responded right on the tail of his words, rushed and quick. He swallowed and stood to leave, a blush—of embarrassment, Hydra surmised—spreading across his cheeks. He began to gather up his textbook and note papers, and Hydra though to just watch him go, except…

Fix this, Hydra.

His eyes widened. He could also imagine how unhappy Mega would be if she found out—even if this had been an accident. Still, beyond avoiding her anger, Hydra felt a twinge of guilt. 

 “Cancer, wait,” He finally said, and thankfully, the boy froze again, staring at him. 

 Hydra awkwardly pushed his glasses up again before saying, “I shouldn’t have snapped, so I'm…sorry,” he repeated his earlier apology. “I was trying to focus, I was into my work…”

He wasn’t sure it was enough, but it was enough out of him for the moment, he thought. Hydra let his words hang in the air, saying nothing else.

For a couple seconds, Cancer looked away, said nothing. He seemed to be debating leaving with a wordless huff or staying. Then, he seemed to choose the latter, dropping his stuff back on the table,and plopping back down in his seat. 

His expression had now morphed into something of an indignant pout. Hydra winced when he noticed the color of the bruised spot when the boy finally removed his hand. 

“Er…do you need me to take you to—”

“This is nothing!” Cancer cut him off quickly. He still hadn’t looked back at him. Hydra let out a sigh on the quieter side, fishing for the words to say that might relieve the tension here…

“What were you doing anyway that was so important?”  

Eh? 

The sudden, mumbled question came as a bit of a surprise. Hydra rubbed the back of his neck for a moment in thought. 

“Well…nothing, really, just…” He shrugged. “Language study…” 

Cancer shifted next to him suddenly. He was staring intently at him now. 

“Wait—me too.”

“Oh? Which one?” He gestured at his own textbook. “I was studying Chinese, though I haven’t…made much progress at present.”

Cancer’s eyes sparkled, his reply treading upon Hydra’s last words– 

 “Oh, I can help!!” 

Hydra’s eyes widened.

Of course—that’s right, he remembered, Cancer had come from China in the first place. He spoke Chinese.

“You...would?"

Cancer nodded earnestly.

"I'd…appreciate that, Cancer-kun,” Hydra said slowly, with another awkward glasses adjustment. He seemed to relax a little in posture. “I really would. Thank you.” 

The boy practically beamed with pleasure at this proposition, the last few minutes seemingly all forgotten now. Hydra still felt kind of bad, however, which he also found odd because usually he didn’t really care. 

It was almost the same as…

“Stop saying that!!”

“Nii-san–”

“Shut up!!” 

“Nii-san, stop–that hurt!!!” 

He saw in his mind’s eye, the fuzzy memory of the face of Buster as a small child. 

It was on a cloudy day, many years ago now, on a day when they’d been fighting during recess at school. What it was about, Hydra couldn’t recall even then.

It had started as a simple scuffle, a few kicks and punches, but it only continued to escalate with every passing moment, until Hydra found himself, with little hesitation, putting Buster into a chokehold and twisting his arm. 

He’d felt nothing as he did that—until the piercing cry of the boy seemed to send a shock through his bones, and he jolted backwards, releasing him instantly. Unable to speak, he watched Buster stumble to the ground, staring up at Hydra for a moment before looking away quickly. He was trying to steady his breath, obviously in pain but not wanting to cry.  

There’d been a growing crowd of kids around them, their eyes boring holes into him from all angles.

Hydra was starting to feel so guilty he wished he could disappear.

He’d wanted to say sorry, to take it back…but the most he could do was grab Buster by the other arm and pull him away from the crowd, dragging him along until they came to a secluded area near the side of the school building, where they sat down in silence for a while. 

Hydra found himself still gripping Buster’s smaller hand, surprised that he was shaking.

He hadn’t meant to…he hadn’t…

“Hydra-san? Ano…”

The man jolted, realizing quickly he’d probably spaced out. He tried to keep a relatively neutral expression, looking around the room quickly before asking, “So…what language were you looking at?” 

 Cancer replied without missing a beat, “Japanese!”

Hydra raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You’re already quite good at it, Cancer. Why?”

The boy shrugged.

“I’ve got a lot left to learn, and…I don’t know a lot of words…and stuff....” He looked to the ceiling briefly, as if trying to think of something. But, Hydra understood what he meant. 

 I still don’t quite have a complete handle on this language, but I’m pretty solid in a lot of it…

“I can…help you too, if you are ever…confused,” he found himself saying slowly. Cancer’s eyes lit up again and he moved closer, clapping his hands together. 

 “Really?!”

“Yes, of course, I–”

Then suddenly, Cancer seemed to remember something, and he spun around, grabbing his books and belongings. Hydra simply watched, not sure if he should continue speaking as he watched the boy scamper off in the direction of the door. 

But, before he left the room, Cancer came to a stop at the top of the steps to the exit, turning and smiling again at the Godmaster.

“Xièxie, Hydra-san! See you at dinner!”

Hydra felt a smile twist the corners of his lips. 

What a…funny kid.

///

Link to Mega/Giga story 1

Summary: uhhhhh.....fluff w them, kinda? Pretty scene descriptions? Ummmmm........yea! Please read, I liked that one ngl

///

Giga bowed his head, lower and lower until his forehead grazed the floor. 

It was cold and hard. Out of the corner of his vision, he watched Mega, Buster, and Hydra do the same. 

“Failure again! This is unacceptable!!” 

“Please, at least understand—that we managed to destroy an entire city, which was part of what you had hoped—”

“SILENCE!!” 

A tongue of electricity seemed to stretch out with rabid hunger, licking both of Giga’s shoulders, leaving behind thin lines of blood. Having experienced this many times, Giga uttered a grunt of pain, but nothing more. 

Beside him, Mega flinched, out of a combination of fear and concern, but did not dare raise her head. Her own skin seemed to tremble in uneasy anticipation, of its own lashing, if it were to come, that is. 

“Do not presume what I desire!” 

The sound of Devil Z’s voice reverberated in the skulls of all present in the dimly-lit, damp cavern. It sounded with a disembodied quality, not to unsimilar to the Decepticon emperor itself. It was not as soundwaves in the air, but rather a sound he allowed their ears to hear—something inexplicable, that sounded as if it rang around into the open air of the room, and at the same time, blasted only between their ears. 

It was a chilling, commanding sound. It faded slowly, every remaining wave piercing to the last. Everyone did their best to remain still and obediently silent. 

The dark frustration dripping from his tone felt akin to being in the crosshairs of a madman with a gun in hand—having taken aim at the head, with a trembling finger on the trigger. 

Giga and Mega knew their power, likely so did the Godmasters. If if were anyone else, they would not have bent a knee—they’d not have even batted an eye. 

 But they were at the moment, powerless in the face of this ruling being, who could kill them with but a fleeting thought. 

 In the face of their superior…but not their master. 

 “...and you will come up with another plan—quickly! I shall not be hindered in my conquest of earth due to mere insects!!” Devil Z snapped, when the last words had finally faded to quiet. After another pause, he spoke again, “or any useless underlings.” 

“Yes, Great Emperor!”

The four’s voices in unison echoed in the cavern, loudly and firmly so as to appease the Emperor. And, it seemed to work…a weight seemed to lift off the air—something that no one could explain, but which always occurred when Devil Z would at last leave their presence. 

It was a good feeling, and everyone remained still, near-flattened to the ground for a moment, before Giga made a noise and shot upright. It was an indignant noise, that reflected the feelings of the others in the room. 

One by one, they each lifted their heads and stood up again, not speaking for the moment. 

“How shameful,” Buster muttered, almost to himself, breaking the quiet. “We keep upsetting the Emperor with our failed endeavors.” 

But everyone, including Buster, knew that it was not frustration at their team that sparked Buster’s words. 

Perhaps instead, what he would wish to say, would be something closer to how shameful it was, that their Emperor did nothing to aid them. 

They were not privy to their leader’s ultimate goal, which was definitely something more than what they had been led to understand. 

They were lashed with insults, pain, and threats should they ever fail, no matter what they did or tried. There was no such thing as a small victory, which even months before there had been. 

But their leader had further grown more unstable. 

Unspoken was the thought: Is this what a great leader is? 

Frantic rage and frustration sparked the air when Devil Z spoke.

He contradicted himself, went with incautious courses of action that no longer had structure except for destroying as much possible, all at once.

“We will do our best to satisfy our leader’s orders, and we will crush the Autobots,” Mega said, with conviction enough that Buster flinched. But her eyes spoke a different story when she ran them across the other three standing before her. 

Hydra stepped forward, making a fist and raising it a little.

“Mega’s right, we will come up with a plan—we always do,” he seemed to reaffirm, patting Buster on the shoulder. 

Everyone seemed to speak in stunted words, as if someone was listening. 

It was as it had been for the last few months, when they had begun to fear their leader, but not in the sense of awe. 

 …

“Well then, everyone,” Giga said at last. “So we shall. But I believe there’s something more important, first.” He looked to Mega, who seemed to understand what he was hinting at, grinning a little herself. 

“You’re absolutely right, Giga-sama!” Buster exclaimed, eyes seeming to light up a little. "We’re having Cancer’s birthday dinner tonight, aren’t we?”

Giga nodded, with a low hum of affirmation.

"So let us get to work. We have only a few hours before the kids return.”

“You two can handle the table, correct?”

“Yes, sir!” Buster and Hydra responded, standing tall. 

“Then do so.”

With a nod, they turned and exited the kitchen, leaving only Mega and Giga behind. The pair worked in silence for a few heartbeats, the sound of Giga chopping vegetables against the sizzling of the pot Mega was stirring. 

“Perhaps if we dig a large hole in the forest and push Ginrai into it, we’ll satisfy our Emperor,” Giga mused with chuckle. “He’ll dent his chassis and…die!”

“Or maybe if we blow him up again, he’ll actually stay dead! Rid us of our troubles…”

They sighed at the same time, seemingly on the same train of thought. 

We have to deal with this, or die trying…what options to choose from! 

“Giga…” 

He turned at his name, finding Mega staring at him. Her eyes seemed to be chiding him gently, her smirk telling him not to worry about it. 

It was amazing how well they’d grown to know each other, where looks could say more than their words needed. 

“I know,” he huffed, returning to cutting the vegetables. “We have time to come up with something, and we will. Tonight is Cancer’s party.”

“And tonight is also a feast for everyone in this family to enjoy. We will not allow anything to…” she suddenly trailed off, unable to remember the saying she’d wanted to finish with.  

“I don’t believe that was it.”

“Rain on us?” Giga tried. He scraped the chopped pieces into a red bowl and began tossing them about gently. He could gauge what she was trying to say, of course, but it seemed he’d forgotten, too.

Humans and their odd idioms and sayings, he thought as Mega laughed in response. 

“Well, am I close?”

“I’m not quite sure…” she turned off the stove and leaned against the counter, lost in thought. 

“Darken our bubble?”

“That’s not a saying, is it?”

“Maybe not,” Giga put the bowl down and turned to face Mega, folding his arms. He realized this would greatly bother him if he couldn’t figure out what the saying was, and soon. The same applied to Mega. 

It was simply their nature, one could surmise. 

“Make waves in our…boat.”

“Isn’t it, ‘rock the boat’?”

“You’re right! Then just, ‘make waves’?”

“No, no, not that…”

“Rain over the water?”

“Eh?” 

“Be a…wet blanket.” 

 After a moment of silence, Mega burst out laughing, which made Giga start to chuckle. It was on the cusp of their tongues, and yet they couldn’t quite—

“Rain on our parade!” 

“Parade!” Mega said suddenly, eyes wide. Giga seemed to catch on immediately. 

They made the exclamation in unison, then dissolved into laughter. How ridiculous this might have been, but it was enough to get their minds firmly off the scolding and lashing from earlier. At least, for a few moments. 

When their laughter had subsided, Mega found her eyes ticking towards the fresh cuts on Giga’s shoulders, no longer bleeding, instead bruised a faint purple. Below it were the faded marks of other scars, all from failures to please their…’great’ leader. 

Giga knew what Mega was looking at and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, letting his finger brush it gently. 

She had some of her own, and she knew they hurt like hell for a week at least. 

“If it means protecting them, then a few cuts don’t hurt,” he said softly. “Thank goodness the kids were out today, right?” 

Mega nodded, sighing. Her eyes spoke many words of worry and sadness. Giga’s seemed strained and apprehensive. 

Decepticons were not without honor, he had often thought. Yet everything they had been doing on this Earth as of late, under the command of Devil Z, even things of their own doing…had seemed only to put into jeopardy the very morals by which Mega and Giga navigated their existence.  

Much of what they were beginning to see—beginning to realize, rather—was further and further from the honor they had thought they were upholding. 

The honor…of the Decepticon cause. 

The honor of any great warrior.

The honor of any great leader.

 And that was a scary thought.  

 “We’ll fix this.”

“Yes, we will.”

“We are not his slaves.” 

Giga and Mega smiled,  in agreement, eyes glinting with a malicious sharpness. 

“And in due time, we’ll show him that.”

 “Exactly,” Giga nodded firmly. “Now, let us finish this dish. Tonight, we drink and feast!” 

 ///

 Wilder stood at the entrance to a huge, white building, staring at the tall, glass door that slid open and closed as people filed in and out, many carrying bags if they were exiting. Somehow, he’d never seen it before. 

 Then again, he wasn’t familiar with every store in the area. Still, a place this big…

 It was a mall, at the head of a busy street, with a noisy road of cars past the sidewalk. 

Buster marched from behind him and stood in front of the door, hands on hips and a triumphant look sparking in his eyes. 

“Welcome to my favorite store!” He announced gleefully, starting in. Wilder whistled in some amazement, and then followed him in. 

He’d been on his way back from lunch when he’d bumped into Buster on the sidewalk. Enthusiastic to hear the teen had the rest of the afternoon off, Buster asked if he’d be willing to go somewhere with him in the city before returning to headquarters. 

 Wilder actually didn’t mind hanging out with Buster, either. He’d planned to read manga in his quarters for the rest of the afternoon, but…he was also curious what the errand would be. And, curiosity winning out, he’d accepted the invitation. 

 “We’ve only one stop to make today!” Buster called over his shoulder. 

 The two of them got on an escalator. The lights and colors of the shops and walkways bustling with people danced below them, and Wilder was reminded of how it felt to stand atop a roof in the middle of the night, watching a festival parade go by with old companions, years ago.

 He turned his gaze forwards again, scanning the area of the floor they were coming to on the escalator. 

 “The…Uniqlo?” Wilder asked, as they got off the escalator and drew closer to a store with the name engraved to the sign above the entrance. 

 Buster responded with a chuckle, reaching out and patting Wilder on the back. He proceeded through the front, unzipping his jacket as he entered. For a moment, Wilder stood, studying the outside of the store, then he shrugged, and followed Buster in.

 “So, how are things for you here?” 

 Wilder was surprised at the sudden question, shrugging before he said anything. They walked through the first shelves of clothes in silence before Wilder finally spoke.

 “It’s a…home I didn’t really think I’d have,” he almost mumbled. It was like he had a hard time saying it, but not for the reasons one might think. And Buster immediately understood that. In some ways…he felt the same. 

He doesn’t know if it’s real—to stay. 

And really…Buster didn’t know either. Of course, he wanted—just as much as anyone else on their team—the victory of this war, to crush the skulls of the Autobots who kept causing them shame, defeat…pain. 

Buster regarded the boy, whose burning passion to do something with his life—to become something, someone…and smiled.

 “Wilder-kun,” he said, after some moments of silence had passed. “Would you like to know why we’re here?”

Wilder sighed and messed with his hair, the smirk on his face seeming to indicate his usual air of confidence had returned.

His young eyes sparked with energy again, not dark, reflective thought. Buster knew that well, too. 

Smile, not a sweet smile, but the smile of victory. Of confidence and power. One that pushes back against being used, and...being doomed to your fate...

Somehow, without saying anything, the look in Wilder’s eyes seemed to understand what Buster was thinking.

“Beats me,” Wilder responded, then held up a shirt. “But this shirt looks really cool.” At this, Buster chuckled, patting the teen on the shoulder and guiding him forward, shirt still in hand. 

"You're correct! We’ve got some work to do on your wardrobe, of course!” He laughed again, jovially. Someone looking at a row of pants gave the pair a side-eye, but didn’t say anything else. 

 Wilder continued walking, feeling some strange warmth he didn’t usually feel unless he was with Cancer and Bullhorn on a really good day. It was…nice. He momentarily looked back at Buster, seeing his blue eyes flicking from one section to the next, then back down at his feet. 

Those pompous Autobots are going down, Wilder suddenly had the fiery thought, fist clenching. If for no other reason, than to protect this…my only home. For that, I'll take down anyone I'm ordered to, or burn any building. Just you watch.

 “Well then, Buster-san, I’m in your hands. Let’s do this!”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

///

#super god masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💓✨ #masterforce #transformers super god masterforce #tf #transformers #transformers stuff #maccadam #decepticons #anime #transformers anime #headcanons #ideas #writing #kuniwrites #fanfic #fanfiction #transformers fanfic #super god masterforce fanfiction #cancer #bullhorn #wilder #hydra #buster #giga #mega #tf masterforce

[sparklingpax]

Right Now, Right Here

A/n:

-helppp this title 💀 in my defense (both the title and for the fic) I wrote this over a year ago, and I only rediscovered it today? Um, I can't write??? I did make a few edits here and there but....welp, I guess I'll just hide in my corner again.

-yea so also, there might be typos. I was supposed to post this earlier but I edited and checked this at like 1 am, while incredibly exhausted, and now I'm in a class (💀) I can't inspect this too closely at the moment so...just pretend you didn't see anything if you do--

-set in canon! I have yet to show y'all any writing for my AU 😹 im a bit scared to ngl

-context: Metalhawk went out for a patrol without telling anyone and was gone for a lil too long, so Ginrai asked the others where he was and they all kinda just '*shrug* the grocery store? haha no idk.' So he tracks him and gets there just as Overlord is leaving; he'd jumped Hawk while he was still in his semi-human looking form and Hawk tried to put up a fight but was really ambushed and attacked so fast that he had a panic response and couldn't fight properly. Overlord only left because he thought he'd killed him, but clearly, he did not. And then *gestures* all this other stuff happens

-YES im on my Ginhawk Agenda™ bullshit again, just leave if you're not interested, don't be mean about it...

-angst kinda? some tw for injury stuff but idt it's too graphic or anything.

-dear me from a year ago, dont use ur school accounts google docs to write bad angst please look what youve done 💀

///

“Hawk?”

Ginrai finally caught sight of the Pretender commander in the distance, and feeling his heart skip a beat at what he saw. He sprinted over as quickly as he could.

He came upon the lone birch tree, standing in solitude amidst an otherwise empty clearing, and knelt carefully next to Hawk, who kept a quivering arm tightly to his side as he laid, huddled into himself on the ground, covered only partially in his armor plating.

Evidently, most of it had been…severly damaged in the skirmish between him and Overlord.

Ginrai swallowed, quickly deactivating the glass visor over his eyes and the metal padding around his hands, so the cold and tough metal wouldn’t cause Hawk any more pain.

Vaguely, he noticed the way his own hands were shaking as he reached out, and he felt his breath catch as his fingers touched the ice-cold skin of his wounded partner.

For all the times he was the only one left standing in any fight, it was certainly jarring to see him so feeble, in so much pain….

The Autobot leader took a deep breath, trying to not think too much about the blue and red streaks of blood and energon soiling the earth around where Hawk lay, over Hawk himself.

It was Overlord’s, he tried convincing himself.

But the twinge of queasy fear in his stomach disagreed.

Hawk’s eyes shot open at Ginrai’s touch, searching the aboveground for a moment before darting back to Ginrai. Shock made his heart pound, pulling him out of his half-consciousness and back to the present. He had stiffened, then immediately tried to life himself off the ground, only for his arms to give out. He fell back and hit the tree behind him.

He then held his arms over himself, as a shielding motion.

“N-no, don’t, please--” the Pretender suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, falling back into his crumpled position in the dirt, eyes squeezed shut and gripping his wound harder.

Ginrai flinched, arm jolting back.

He must still be in shock.

“Hawk,” he spoke softly, bent a little closer, but not too close. “It’s me, Ginrai.”

The wounded Pretender slowly opened his eyes again after a moment, searching Ginrai’s face for a few heartbeats before he seemed to realize what was happening.

“You’re alright. You’re safe now. I’m gonna get you back to HQ, okay?”

Hawk nodded slowly, gritting his teeth again as another wave of pain seemed to pass through him.

Ginrai couldn’t help but notice…far clearer than the fresh cuts and bruises, were the lines of exhaustion and pain dulling his face.

“D-don’t…” he struggled, swallowing before trying again. “Don’t worry, I’ll…be f-fine...”

Ginrai felt a surge of emotions. Regret, frustration, despair…something dark and negative.

Not at Hawk, but at himself.

But rather than say anything, he bowed his head, feeling a lump form in his throat. Hot tears welled at the edges of his vision.

Suddenly, could hear the sound of Hawk’s shuddering breaths, and reminded himself that this wasn’t the time to lose his cool.

He needs me. And I…need him.

So he again reached out and gently grasped one of Hawk’s hands, as a comforting motion.

“You’re alright. You’re with me, now,” he repeated, even more quietly than before.

Hawk gazed out into the grey sky with hazy eyes, expression laced with pain.

Every bone in his body--his fragile, human body–hurt. And he felt every cut on his paper-thin skin.

He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for such an obvious trap, and then couldn't hold his own ground.

He felt some of the panic return to his body, triggering another memory of the way that same panic had frozen his limbs in place, choking him before Overlord had at one point in the thrashing, reached out and did the same.

He'd demanded the location of the base. Over and over...and...

No. Get a hold of yourself. Feel the touch of Ginrai’s hands. You are safe.

His breathing eased.

You are safe.

Meanwhile, Ginrai had leaned closer, hands still gently wrapped around Hawk’s. His eyes flicked nervously from Hawk’s face--covered with dirt and blood--to the various wounds on his body, to the broken parts of his armor.

“Here--” he gently reached back and guided his boyfriend to a sitting position against the oak.

After a moment of silence, Ginrai drew back a little, still knelt in front of Hawk, and then began to speak in a stumbling manner.

“…I–I know I should have realized you were gone for too long much sooner, but I...was cleaning my truck–and, I know I should have tracked your signal the way you showed me, and–and–”

“Ginrai.”

The 19-year-old swallowed, trying to slow his breathing as he trailed off, clearly on the verge of tears. He was freaking out, and Hawk didn’t want him to feel bad.

The Pretender commander reached out and lightly touched Ginrai’s shoulder.

“You didn’t…d-do anything wrong…I should have–”

“No!! I’m the Autobot leader!!” Ginrai snapped, a little more aggressively than he’d intended, but it was hard for him to control his tone against the wave of emotions and fear that threatened to make him break down.

“I put myself in danger on a daily basis, and that’s ok. I signed up for this when I accepted leadership of this team, and I see the weight of that responsibility. But Hawk...”

He seemed to be losing the battle with his emotions as he softened his tone, looking away. His body shook as he started to cry.

“...I--I wouldn’t know what to do i-if anything…happened to you. No one on the team is supposed to die, not on my watch. And, after all is said and done, you’re…supposed to live longer than me, anyway.”

Hawk felt his blood run cold.

“I can’t…let you die before me….it wouldn’t be right.”

Those words seemed to weigh the air, hanging heavily in the short silence that followed.

Hawk stared ahead for a bit.

The uncomfortably familiar feeling of panic had seemingly returned to constrict his chest and throat. He felt his heart pounding out of his chest.

He knew Ginrai was right, but he’d always…avoided those thoughts.

He knew it from the moment he had realized that he was falling in love all those months ago.

He hadn’t known love like this on Cybertron, on any planet, or on this earth for all the time he’d been here before then. But…

“I’m s-sorry…” Ginrai whispered, suddenly unable to stop the emotion-driven words. "We both know it: I'm just a man--some mortal--but you…”

Hawk felt tears brim in his eyes. Ginrai's voice felt distant, yet the words cut straight to his heart.

“You're….an ancient Cybertronian, with centuries left to live...centuries I’ll never be alive to see…”

Reality was cruel.

It was nothing short of tyrannical.

And time? Always marching on, in its accursed, coldly unforgiving manner.

Fear had shadowed the trucker’s gaze. But not for fear of death itself.

It was fear for the final moment he would see Hawk’s kind face, and which he’d never see again once he would let his eyes close in those final–

No, no. This is wrong. I can’t think like this–I…don’t. I’m lashing out.

And it was at the sight of Hawk’s brown eyes, fixated on Ginrai, that caused guilt to well up from the pits of his stomach. They stared back at him with that same fear, dazed over with exhaustion and yet, burning with dread…

Without words, Hawk pulled Ginrai back into an embrace, almost desperately, grasping the cold metal plating with all his strength.

“P-please, don’t say that. I...won't leave you, s-so...don’t…leave me,” Hawk found himself whispering. He was shaking, tears rolling down his face. “We have…time, years...right n-now...”

Hawk trailed off, unable to speak anymore for the moment.

Crying was something that he almost never did, even after all the centuries he’d spent inhabiting this body.

It was a strange feeling as well as painful.

His body ached, right down to his bones. His side wound seared, begging him to return to laying carefully against the oak, but…he couldn’t remove himself, even as he felt himself starting to get dizzy.

Reality was cruel, but it was beautiful, too. And it was moments like this that slipped away like sand.

I'm still alive. That must mean something.

He and Ginrai clung to one another, tightly, silently, until Ginrai drew back, and they were staring at one another again, though Hawk’s eyes were starting to become distant, clearly from the blood loss.

What good had this done, venting his own fears? Ginrai let his gaze fall. He was suddenly aware of the way the chilly winds bit at his fingers.

Before anything else, Ginrai realized he needed to amend this.

There is nothing to be afraid of. There is only…time. We have time.

Hawk’s words rang in his ears.

We have time.

“Hawk, I’m…sorry. I’m…” he plucked at some of the grass next to him. Then, returning his intent gaze to the Pretender, he continued. “I let my emotions get the better of me.”

He watched as Hawk shifted a bit, gingerly touching a bruise on his arm, eyes still on Ginrai.

“It's a-alright, I unders-stand…I…” he swallowed, shaking his head a little.

Any number of things could be making it painful for him to speak, Ginrai realized, and gently held his hand again, speaking so Hawk didn't have to.

“I’ll stay with you. I’ll…always stay with you. We have now, and I have you. You’re right...we have time. Years of it. I shouldn't have said that stuff earlier.”

The edges of a smile seemed to light Hawk’s expression. The shadows seemed to dissipate a little.

Perhaps it was his wavering consciousness, or the realization that Ginrai was still here, with him…but Hawk could feel the panic leaving him once again.

“Th-thank…you…” he breathed, eyelids starting to flutter.

“Hawk…thank you.”

Ginrai rubbed at his eyes, wiping away his tears, feeling himself smile as he Hawk do the same. And all the turmoil seemed to leave them.

This was the here and now.

It did no one good to ruminate on things that hadn’t even occurred yet.

And they were lucky, that perhaps Decepticon pride had caused Hawk to be left alive rather than dead.

I’ll get you home, Hawk. Safe and sound.

He gently gathered the wounded Autobot into his grip.

“I love you…I’m so relieved you’re safe," Ginrai murmured gently, warmly.

Hawk smiled back, a silent agreement.

Maybe they’d have dinner when Hawk was bandaged and ready to walk around again.

Maybe they’d talk about music or nature, or perhaps something simply boring enough that Landmine would quit eavesdropping on them so they’d have some alone time.

Maybe...there was so much they could do.

Ginrai found himself speaking again to Hawk, unsure if he could hear him or not.

“I’ll stay, my love. I’ll stay as long as you wish…I lead this team. We’ll all make it out of this alive. We'll bring peace to this earth. I swear.”

With Hawk in his arms, the Autobot leader headed for his truck, leaving behind him the lonely birch tree.

He noticed the clouds in the sky hung, grey and looming as ever, and cast a fond look down at Hawk, who was definitely passed out now, but breathing steadily.

The sight of his complexion paler than usual, and gashes in his metal armor to reveal bloodied, bruised portions of skin…Ginrai tried not to dwell on it.

Everything will be fine, he reminded himself. I’ve got you, Hawk…I’ve got you.

Well, gloomy skies didn’t make Ginrai sad like they used to. Not since he’d learned they were Hawk’s favorite kind of weather.

So…he smiled.

///

#transformers #tf #transformers super god Masterforce #Super God Masterforce #masterforce #masterforce moment òwó 🥺💖✨ #ginhawk #angst #(??) #ginrai #hawk #maccadam #transformers stuff #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #story #kuniwrites #ew i cant write #hsjsjdjs #thank you for reading if u did ilyy #:D

[sparklingpax]

Ratchet is wearing a T-shirt that says "Occupational Hazard."

Miko, chilling and drawing, looks up and sees it. Naturally, she asks who exactly the shirt is referring to.

Ratchet deadpans, 'It's me. I'm the occupational hazard.'

He found the shirt at his door a week or two ago and decided it was more or less accurate.

His medical tools aren't just for show.

And no, they aren't just for healing either.

She smiles to herself and continues drawing, and Ratchet quietly continues sorting through nuts and bolts in a bin.

A couple days later, Ratchet sees Optimus walk into the main area wearing a T-shirt that says "I'll Take My Chances"

He makes a face and asks Optimus what he takes his chances with and where he got the shirt. Optimus looks at him, thinks for a moment, then shrugs.

"I was anonymously gifted this article of clothing, according to a note left by my berth. I also have yet to fully understand the context of this message. Nonetheless, I will continue to wear it."

"I...see....."

He then offers a smile. "Do you like it?"

Ratchet nods, then turns back to his computer screen, immediately beginning to wonder where Miko has run off to.

///

this was brought to you by half asleep typing on a phone at 3% now nd 5 brownie cupcakes from the freezer....goodnihgt im not editing my typos loll aa 😳 also gosh I'm unfunny but here goes anyway 💫

#drabble #transformers prime #tfp #Ratchet #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #optiratch headcanon #optiratch i guess #tf #transformers #maccadam #fanfiction #(sorta) #kuniwrites #random #miko #tfp miko

[sparklingpax]

Farewell, Brother

a/n: Um um um. y’all know how the interaction actually went down, but I found a drabble from a little while ago where I kinda made my own re-imagining of it..........and so I hope it’s not too dramatic or...wrong? I just wanted to write this and well, after reading it over, I thought it would be ok to share....so lmk what y’all think! 

....go easy on me tho...as usual, I’m nervous as hell posting anything I write....and it’s a little old....anyway *gulp* here you go ^~^ 

(and as always, sorry for typos or grammar mistakes, ooc-ness, or places where I accidentally forgot I reworded a sentence so there’s the thought and then the thought again--)

///

All good things come to an end. It’s just a truth of life--however sad it may be. But honestly speaking, aren’t all of them? These truths.

...

Megatron growled, optics glistening with such contempt that Orion felt his insides sqirm. He had a tendency to do that, and it served its intended purpose well, that glare did.

“I was a fool to hope fate could smile in my path,” he spat.

“Megatronus--”

“Don’t call me that!” He cut into Orion’s plea. “I am my own self, my own mech now. I chose myself name. I am Megatron. You know that already.”

Orion felt guilty. He’d forgotten in the hours passed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured solemnly, bowing his head.

“You’re….sorry?” Megatron’s tone dripped of disbelief. As if that was exactly what he hadn’t wanted to hear, and Orion had said just that. 

Something bad was coming. 

If only Orion had known what to say, but for once, he wasn’t knowledgeable in the field of speech...or de-escalation. 

And in a moment he’d needed it most.

If only he could have saved their friendship, and none of what followed would have come to be.

“This--this unattainable reality that all but grazed my fingertips,” his eyes were daggars that swiped and cut. 

He lunged forward, seemingly an impulsive act, and grabbed the smaller mech by the throat.

Orion let out a small noise of surprise before he cut it short.

“And you stole it!”

“M-Megatron, I’d do no such--”

“You stole it!” He barked, his voice rising. “You played with me, Orion!”

Orion pawed at the hands around his throat, fighting the urge to cry out. Resentment began to bubble up inside him.

Did Megatron truly have so little trust in others--in Orion--to instantly assume he’d planned all this? 

Planned asking to become a leader--a Prime, no less--when he’d rather study alone in his room? 

Plan to steal his friend’s greatest dream?

He bared his teeth. That resentment was beginning to seep into his bloodstream.

I did no such thing, Megatron. I’d never betray you. How dare you even think that.

But out came none of those words.

Instead, he held his gaze as unwaveringly harsh as he could manage, training it on his friend. Megatron, meanwhile, hardened his own glare, like lava solidifying itself to ashy rock.

Obstinate, inconvincible rock.

He wouldn’t stand for this.

Being picked up and threatened like this was not what Orion expected from his friend. From anyone, really, but least of all Megatron. 

“Let go of me!! Or are you such an animal like the beasts you fight?!” 

He snapped his words like a whip, yanking with sudden force at Megatron’s grip. Force he’d learned in their self-defense training sessions together. 

The silver mech’s optics widened. It was like he realized something, and jolted back to something like control again. 

He released his hold and Orion felt the ground beneath his feet again.

But the apprehension didn’t lift quite yet. Megatron took one step back, as if disgusted to be near Orion. 

As if pressed by that unseen pressure of tension.

He looked the smaller mech up and down, vibrating with negative emotions Orion was sure he could feel.

Or was it...his own fear? But, why would he be afraid?

I did no wrong...I did...I didn’t do anything, right?

“You,” Megatron growled in a low tone, one that withered the fire of anger Orion was feeling.

“Brother--”

“We are not brothers, scholar!” He cut Orion off, purposefully using the impersonal term. “Not anymore...”

The look in his eyes was one Orion realized he had only ever seen directed elsewhere, never one he thought he’d be staring into himself. One he was sure the monstrosities of Kaon’s pits had seen after striking the gladiator and his pride a little too hard. 

One they saw before they died. 

There was a bitterness swimming up to the surface, yet a sadness pooled at its base, far below. He was clearly trying to stay in control of the situation, to seem as if his anger, and not his unstable emotions, was the driving force of it all.

But he’s like a wounded beast. He’s hurt.

Orion didn’t like that look. But he didn’t like this, either.

He uncomfortably looked to a tree in the distance.

I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t.

For a moment, Orion considered trying once more--as his gentle, naive, forgiving nature was wont to do. At least, as others said he was. 

He opened his mouth to speak.

But when he refocused his gaze, Orion felt his own frustration close his mouth.

No, he realized. 

Nothing he could say would sway Megatron. 

It was just like when they first fought. Except this time, they wouldn’t be making up. 

Orion felt a deep ache in his spark upon realizing that he’d never see the burgundy-silver mech on friendly terms again.

They’d never sit in a park and speak of philosophy and art again.

They’d never share a meal and laugh over each other’s idiosyncrasies again.

There would be no fondness between them again.

He had lost his only brother, even though their sparks had never touched in creation. Because Megatron had felt more to him than even family ever could. 

I didn’t want this, I truly didn’t want this. I said what was in my spark, and you said what was in yours. I didn’t want them to hear, I didn’t to leave my place in the spectators, I....didn’t want to even leave my study...

“Never look to me that way again, scholar.”  

I came....to help you....

“You are a traitor.” 

I...am not the Council.

Orion watched wordlessly as Megatron bowed his helm and turned. Its rims glimmered for a fleeting moment with the golden light from a setting sun, somewhere in the distance.

Gaze hardened with resignation, the newly-named Prime stood still. His eyes had remained on the broken, angry mech as he trudge slowly down the street, washed in golden hues of the sunset.

And then the shadows, the further he ventured from Orion. 

For once, Orion hated the sight of the golden skies. 

Because under them he’d been given memories, and under them, they’d been ripped away as if unimportant in the first place. 

///

#oh my hec #sorry #anyway #transformers prime #tfp #orion pax #megatronus #megatron #optimus prime #reimagined scene #scene rewrite #drama #i guess #transformers #transformers fanfiction #transformers prime fanfiction #tfp fanfiction #tfp orion pax #tfp megatronus #kuniwrites #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #writing #writing drabble

[sparklingpax]

Remnants

-title bad lmao what else is new 

-there are definitely grammar mistakes and typos, it’s late and this was potentially the most spontaneous thing I have ever written, sorry ;w; 

-Not even sure how to describe this, I just hope you like it :’D 

-in case it wasn’t clear, this is set in the aligned continuity, in tfp.

-I swear I remember someone saying Soundwave used to be a gladiator so this was kind of also born of that but if I’m wrong than you may laugh at me and I apologize,,

-borderline angst but then again No because literally nothing happens 

///

Air whistled past a lone figure at the tip of the Nemesis.

Above him was the seemingly endless expanse of earth’s night sky, but beyond that, Soundwave knew, there lay space. The galaxy. The universe…

Most of it all sat—dead and alone, void of life and sound….but waiting.

Waiting for someone to come and inhabit it.

Soundwave heard the hum of the ship—or rather, felt it to the core of his body.

With every wave of energy that passed through the ship, his body shook, and his audio receptors took in the sound which reverberated in his skull. 

Yet it was that shaking that propelled the ship forward. 

To all those occupied with their activities, safe inside the walls of the aircraft, the noise was imperceptible.

 But Soundwave was not busy, and he did not care too much to block it out.  

Such a sound was a necessity, after all.

And the Decepticon intelligence officer was no stranger to necessity.

 So, Soundwave stood still like the universe hanging above him, little passing through his processor.

He thought about his mind. Soundwave was fully aware he could not truly remember most of his past.

In the name of loyalty and necessity, he’d wiped his own mind clean to store data, information…at the cost of his own thoughts and feelings.

But there was no resentment, no sadness, no frustration…there was nothing.

He had no reason to feel any of that, because he’d never be able to forget his past. 

 Because it was all stored coldly and distant from his own processor, all stored in an unfeeling, unbiased manner, ready to be told back to him at a moment’s notice.

 It lay for all to see on public records and files, like a book in a library. His life and goals remained as dead words on a screen that he had only read once or twice; an intelligence officer must have a good memory, right?

 Soundwave took a calm step forward, seeing more clearly over the edge of the ship. Blankly, he watched the wisps of clouds float by, not remotely interested in how they tore apart as the Nemesis passed through them.

All that remained--though against his will--were the days in the gladiatorial ring. Carnal instinct to kill and live another day, to hear the resounding roars of bloodthirsty crowds.

That crowd filled with those that loved death but did not desire it. 

Soundwave remembered well their faces. Young and old, mechs of all ages but only a few statuses populated the seating. They felt not fear or adrenaline, but excitement at a spectacle-to-be.

Soundwave remembered his own anger, his own resentment, his own sadness. The things he felt to the people.

 The purple mech took another unwavering step, nearly at the edge of the metal, and still feeling nothing. Only thinking.

Only processing.

 These were cold memories. 

Soundwave couldn’t feel them anymore. He just knew that they were there.

He remembered the face of a young mech that sat in the front row one day. He’d  been dodging the many arms of a snake-like beast and had fallen against the edge of the arena, dangerously close to the crowd. For anyone else, it would have raised excitement.

 But Soundwave was Soundwave, a gladiator near nameless.

The crowd wanted his fight to end.

They wanted to see Megatronus.

 At that point, Soundwave considered remaining there as the monster regained itself. 

He wondered how it would feel to have its poisonous teeth rip into his armor until it reached his spark. 

He remembered his desire to know what nothing felt like--the irreversible sensation of ceasing to be. 

He remembered a feeling of despair so deep he almost removed his protective visor—the one thing that gave him some distinction for the horde of other nameless gladiators that lived in this city.

 That visor was a device that made it seem as if he had no face.

How funny it would be to have no face, Soundwave had often thought.

 But then, there was the little mech. 

He held in his small hands a half-eaten cube, the remnants of the first half smeared over the corner of his mouth. His eyes sparkled with wonder as they met with Soundwave’s.

They shared no moment of significance, and the mech said or did nothing of importance. A split second later, Soundwave slid to the side just before an arm of the monster could impale him.

 The earth below Soundwave was a dark, murky ocean.

 Oddly enough, he could not put the young mech out of his mind. Nor did he feel any inclination to question it. And yet it remained in his processor…as did the memories.

The cold, blank, memories.

The ones that felt like he’d lived another person’s life, and then remembered it was his own.

 A life he had no wish to go back to, because he was fine with things now. Not happy, not annoyed with, simply….

 “Soundwave, we are ready to begin the meeting.”

 Ah, then again, to think like this was just a waste of time.

There were tasks to be completed.

 Soundwave turned on his heel and marched back to the door of the ship.

 He knew the universe would wait, and for centuries and till the end of time, he knew it would sit and wait. What else could it do?

 But Megatronus will not.

///

#tfp #transformers prime #soundwave #transformers prime soundwave #so it's my headcanon that he calls Megatron Megatronus because he knew him back in the gladiator days and he can only see him as that #and also because Megatron is fine with it because he and soundwave have a mutual trust and respect for each other so yea #idk #transformers prime fanfiction #tfp soundwave #tfp fanfiction #fanfiction #drabble #writing drabble #reflecting #random #kuniwrites #megatron #megatronus #maccadam

[sparklingpax]

unoriginal idea maybe, but here's a detail from my Transformers: Transcendence AU, from a list I keep on some post-it notes in my room, which I spontaneously feel like (elaborating on and) sharing:

Before the war, Megatronus--then, unnamed, but for reading purposes, I'm referring to him by name--once found a book, left behind by spectators to the caves where he worked.

[Sorry for typos, I typed this on my phone last night and forgot to post--]

///

It must have been dropped in haste.

The tour group had, after all, bustled in, murmuring and pointing, then followed the supervisor as he made his way past this particular part of the mines, and they rushed after him. They had been here to see the different facets of a life they'd never dream to imagine living, yet were fascinated to witness first-hand.

The miner had exchanged glances with a fellow unnamed mech who happened to be slicing rocks beside him. It was the kind of look that seemed to wordlessly agree that in the world of the "unreachables" who bathed in loving daylight and fresh air, enough shanix could get you most anything--even a tour to the pits of society.

To where hundreds lived, worked, and died just as unnamed as Megatronus' friend beside him.

Just for the laughs, for the rewarding ability to claim having done something--you know the drill.

But what had caught his optics as he raised and dropped another strike to the rock was not the chance to steal a glance at what "the untouchables" of society looked like, but rather...a book.

A real, leather-bound book, lying lonely where the spectators had been, starkly contrasting the lifeless grey all around it.

It was a tiny story of words Megatronus knew breathed life of its own.

Two lives, perhaps, taking into account it had to have been written by someone.

He knew of books, he'd seen the supervisor reading one, and since then wanted one of his own, but...what world was he living in where you were at literal rock-bottom and could ask for a work of art to appreciate?

Nonetheless, there it lay, and no one seemed to notice it but him.

Or, perhaps they had, but all the same felt no inclination to go and bother with it.

He hoped no one saw him snatch it up and slip off down the dark halls of grit and stone. He knew his sector's supervisor was busy with showing the visitors around, and considering what he held in his grip, was well past this sector...so the coast was clear.

He headed down a familiar path he needed no light to guide him down, until he came upon a hollowed out section of the wall. This was where he came to rest if he was afforded one of the breaks miners were given every now and then.

Breaks of a five-to-seven-minute nature.

It was a place only he knew of--well, he hoped only he knew about it--and so it would be perfect to hide this book.

Carefully, he patted away some dust and slid it behind a crevice. Some part of him wished to disobey rules more than he was already, and at least look at the cover of it, to know the title...but he concluded this was far from a good idea.

So instead, he turned and hurried back to his station.

Of course, he knew he'd be lucky today, but he could only be so lucky--the supervisor wasn't stupid enough to leave his workers of sector A-D alone. Going back now meant he'd be back well in time for the gruff mech of authority to return and find nothing was amiss with his nameless workers.

Just as it was always.

Otherwise, everyone knew, their supervisor would risk losing to sector E-H's manager, and potentially be jailed for it.

To the higher-ups, problems weren't dealt with when it came to this place--they were jailed or killed; it didn't quite matter so much since most of those in the mines died eventually anyway.

And it benefitted no one to cause any sort of trouble.

So things usually remained as they were.

///

Such a break arrived one day, and Megatronus thanked Primus for it.

His body was battered, scratched and covered in all kinds of things that made his silver-burgundy plating to seem an interesting array of greys and black, with streaks of......flourescant purple, green, blue....were they harmful long-term? What substances had even caused such coloration?

Megatronus didn't care to offer it thought--who'd know that? Or care?

He trudged down the rocky halls, thinking of nothing at all but of the pain he felt all over, as if he was being crushed by the deadly metal-press their supervisor had threatened them all with on too many occasions to count.

At last, he came upon his hole in the rocks and practically fell into it.

The spiky rocks he laid upon jabbed him, but not too much, and it was more the relief of finally being allowed to sit for a couple minutes that he felt. He sighed quietly, tiredly, and felt his systems huff their own sigh.

Wearily, he watched a small cloud of steam float away and to the ceiling.

His helm tilted back as he lamented there was only about a minute or two left in his break, which would have been three or four had he not taken so long to get to his rest place--

And then he felt something sharp, but not as sharp as stone, against his head.

He turned to see the edge of a book sticking out of a place in the rock.

With a wave of energy, he remembered finding that book a while back, and his intent to read it! And well, what better time to at least learn the title of it than now?

His optics darted up and down the hall. There was no one there to see him. The muffled sounds of metal upon rock, drilling, and screaming in the distance was all the silence had to contend with as he carefully removed the book from its hiding place and opened it.

Megatronus was lucky to find Primus had seemingly graced him with an ability to read, and he briefly wondered how many others were also capable of such a feat.

But the thought evaporated into nothingness as he cast a concentrated eye over the title, scrawled in decorative, grey font.

Victory of Justice: A Tale of Deceit

Megatronus swallowed, knowing that he only had a couple of seconds to put it back and begin down the halls again to work, lest he be late and forbidden breaks until his spark itself died out, or--debatable if this was better or worse--sent to be smelted or crushed for materials on the spot.

But the title had almost immediately struck something in him.

Something deep, hidden away in the recesses of his processor.

His spark had seemed to jump upon registering what those words seemed to imply, and his intrigue of what lay waiting on the pages following was not a match fire, but as strong as that smelting pit further down the mines.

Victory...Justice....Deceit......

He began to think, silence seeming to further drown the noise of despair he was presently exempt of.

There was no perfect world, and therefore, all these idealistic concepts--of virtue, justice, deceit--were all just as such: ideals. For in practice of the life one lives, the waters became murky, and one never truly sees what is what until it's too late.

I must know, he thought resolutely, suddenly not feeling his body's pain as much.

The words to articulate what I've believed for all this time are in this book. The words I felt inside seeing the daylight for the last time before I entered these mines, or rather, for the last time until I've found a way out again...

He marched down the hall, something beginning to churn in the depths of his very being.

///

I must read them. This will be how I rise above. I will see the surface world and leave this place. It is my fate.

He found himself grinning, something he seldom ever did in the pits of despair which he had resided for all his life. Yet it couldn't be controlled. He widened it, feeling that fire surge within his spark.

It is my destiny! It...is my will.

#kuniwrites #megatronus #megatron #transformers #transformers: Transcendence #au #kuni does au things #writing #drabble #random #<3 #tf #maccadam #idea #transformers au