💬

Send a ‘💬’ to catch a glimpse of a memory my muse has.

"I have to tell you something."

Vortex continues playing with a colorful cube he grabbed from First Aid's desk in his workplace. He's sitting across from him with his legs propped up and crossed in the corner of the table, distracted by this puzzle game he can never figure out.

"Vortex." First Aid sighs as he places the datapad he's holding down. He almost reaches out to grab the cube from Vortex until he speaks up.

"You know if you need to say something it's better if you just rip the plating off and get it out." The copter replies while he still fidgets with the cube, although when he doesn't hear the medic speak up he finally takes his sight off the puzzle to peer over to them. His helm tilts to the side as he watches First Aid stare a hole into his desk. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Wha-" The red mech stumbles his words before looking at the copter. "No! It's-" He sighs rubbing his helm with a servo and peering away for a moment before returning his attention. "I'm joining the Lost Light before it leaves Cybertron... again."

The Combaticon throws his helm back laughing and stops when noticing First Aid's expression hasn't changed. "You can't be serious." He responds, disappointed as he moves his legs off the table to turn and face the medic. "Why? To chase that dumb rumor of finding Knights?" Vortex questions while placing the cube on the desk.

"It's more than that." As First Aid speaks he reaches out to take the puzzle from Vortex and places it back on the display it normally stays on. "They need more medics, Ratchet is there and-"

"What about me?"

Silence fills the room as the two stare at each other. One with a determined look while the other felt like they were gambling their choices on what to say.

"You could join." The red and white mech finally speaks up, knowing well enough it's not the answer Vortex is looking for. "The others can too."

"On a ship, full of Autobots?" He vents out with a huff. "Yeah, I'll pass. I know that Magnus mech is there and he'd arrest all of us simply for existing, and don't even get me started on Megatron." The teal copter places his servos on the desk as he gets up, but his arm is grabbed before he can turn away.

"Hey, wait..."

"Aid there's nothing you can say or do that'll change my mind." Vortex declares while grabbing the medic's servo to remove it. "I refuse to participate in that pointless pursuit while in a ship where I'll have to watch over my shoulder the entire time."

"Vortex I-"

The Combaticon places a claw against First Aid's lip. "Don't. You made your decision." He pulls his servo away and turns to make his way to the exit. The door slides open and he's unable to look back as he knows he'd be met with that look of distress on their face. "I'll be here when... if you come back." Vortex steps through the door while stating his last bit. Unfortunately for the medic, it's not those three little words everyone likes to hear.

"Take care of yourself First Aid."

Okay I just came up with perhaps the stupidest fic idea I’ve had ever but here we fucking go!

So you know how after getting shot with the nudge gun to erase memories you get a headache? After Getaway talks with and shoots Rung, he develops this headache that just won’t. Go. Away. No matter what he does. And believe me, he tries everything, from “herbal” teas with bismuth infusions (which used to help why are they not helping now) to asking Chromedome for advice, and nothing helps, even First Aid and Ratchet can’t figure it out.

The flashbacks start sometime around issue 44 when Nightbeat tells him all about the Necrobot (whom he refers to as Censere once and Rung passes out on the floor from lack of sleep and food and listening to Nightbeat’s story for like three hours and also mental overload from hearing that name and not remembering where, but he knows he’s heard it before somewhere), and they only get worse and more frequent after 49 and the whole mind-hacking from Sunder thing, so much so that he’s often confined to his habsuite with a migraine and visions of flashing guns and magic and someone in front of him with an angry look in his optic and it’s fucking chaos guys. Get this poor bot a comfortable berth and someone to cuddle him.

Luckily, Megatron offers to personally attend to him for some reason, and Rung’s just like “what the fuck is going on why is the co-captain of this ship helping me out and oh my Primus when did he get to look so good” and now on top of the migraines and visions he’s gotta sort through these new feelings about someone who used to be the leader of the freaking DECEPTICONS and he just goes into a coma from the stress on his processor.

While he’s comatose, he starts having, if you can believe it, more visions! But now he can somewhat interact with them??? Like in one he’s standing in what seems to be the Primal Basilica, watching the newest Prime perform some sort of summoning ritual and he feels drawn to the Prime and what is happening why is his chest glowing so brightly and why is the Prime’s expression so awed and oh I guess it’s on to another vision. That kind of thing. One in particular is set on Cybertron, but with no structures, not even roads, but he does appear to be back at the Pious Pools. He sees other mechs around him. Four other mechs staring at him with confusion and curiosity and, again, awe. Like he was important to some capacity. He waves awkwardly at them.

Smash cut back to his habsuite, where Megs is sitting next to his comatose body and reading him some poetry. Something unpolitical. The cadence of his voice reverberates around the tiny room. You can see why when he speaks, mechs listen. Megatron carefully lays the datapad on the berthside and leaves.

Rung does some soul-searching (helped by the voices that came with the visions(memories?)) and determines he’s probably more important than he realizes. He comes out of the coma just in time for issue 50 to happen (yes this is set in a long stretch of time between 49 and 50) and the distress signal dredges up memories of that long-ago war that Rung’s just now realizing was a war. Time skip to Lost Light 19, when the telepaths say the symbol. He knows he’s heard that name before, a long ti—wait you didn’t know it was a name? Oh yeah it’s a name. And his processor just spits out the etymological history of the name and why he’d chosen it for Adaptus and—wait who’s Adaptus and why did I choose that name for them? Why did I choose a name in the first place?

And that’s when he remembers. He keeps it a secret because it seems so improbable. But he remembers. And when Adaptus tells them and he fixes himself for the first time since the God War, it all comes flooding back. A sense of fulfillment swells throughout his body, but he knows he isn’t finished with this shit yet. There’s still the false idol of him the Counselors created out of their Cybertron to deal with.

With each Matrix created, a little bit of him slipping away with every crystal, he knows the age of the Hand is over and a new world must arise in its place. There’s a satisfied smile on his hidden face as the twelfth, final Matrix arises from his flickering spark and his frame collapses, the dusty, ancient sentico metallico coats the entire room in a thin layer. Through the Matrices, his consciousness (some would say his soul) spreads across Cybertron and over Luna 1, a billion sparks imbued with his essence. And he sends one final message to his friends:

Don’t forget me.

charity commission for @orcinuss​!  i’ll also put the fic under the cut!

It had been eight-hundred years, and-. It hadn’t.

This was the thought Megatron kept having every single time he looked at them. 

He had gone through four million years of war — what was a measly eight hundred? War passed by quickly, though, when you were used to it. When you were at the head of it. Megatron had spent four million years trying to conquer his home, and eight hundred years running from it. Literally. 

He was safe from the hand of Cybertron, now, and he wasn’t completely sure how to feel about it. The selfish part of him said he should be thankful for his escape from death, grateful for the forgiveness of his former friends, enjoy being captain once more of the Lost Light. But the other part of his spark, the one that held the weight of billions of swaying blue sparkflowers, said otherwise.

Rodimus had almost seemed surprised when Megatron stepped down from his co-captainship. “Huh..... you’ve changed, Megs. If you didn’t already have a Rodimus Star I might just’ve given you another!” 

Megatron had felt an odd prickling in his optics at this. Then, of course, Rodimus had tacked on: “Now move over I want the captain’s chair again.”

Megatron had briefly considered moving rooms with the change, but ultimately decided not to. Of course, this meant he would have to clean up the damage and vandalism that had been inflicted on his habsuite over his- absence. 

(Every time, it stung. “A few weeks,” Minimus had said. A few weeks.)

Minimus himself had led him to his hab, apologizing in advance for the mess they were sure to see. Sure enough, the room had been thoroughly trashed by mutineers giddy off of their victory (or maybe just looking for something of Megatron’s to destroy since they couldn’t hurt him themselves). Megatron couldn’t blame them — it must have been cathartic. 

He wished they had at least left his desk intact, though. (Really, how was a desk to blame for his war crimes? His datapads, maybe — but a desk?)

Megatron sighed as he surveyed the destruction, and then glanced to his side. Even with the Magnus armor and all of his steely control, Minimus clearly loathed what he was seeing in front of him and was holding back from hunting down all those responsible for such a mess and forcing them to clean it up while in their alt-modes — Megatron could tell by the way his mouth tightened.

“It’ll be fine with just a bit of work, I’m sure,” Megatron said, patting Minimus on the arm. Minimus pulled his arm away — not out of malice, instead looking plainly surprised.

However, that emotion was hurriedly covered up, and Minimus frowned. “That sounds suspiciously close to exaggeration. You know how I feel about exaggeration.”

“On the contrary; I said ‘I’m sure,’ rendering my assertion that the room will be alright as a statement of opinion, not fact, therefore less likely to be exaggerated.” 

Minimus stared at him again (he was doing that a lot, lately). Then, he made a funny little sound, turned pink, and covered his mouth with a hand. “Erk- Um. Yes, well, that was a good joke. You have... improved.” With that, he quickly turned away and started gathering up broken pieces of datapad scattered across the berth. 

Megatron blinked at the back of his head, unsure how exactly to process such a response. Had Minimus just.... laughed? 

He would have to keep pondering the question as the two of them began their work, scrubbing paint off the walls, disassembling the ruined furniture so it could be moved out of the habsuite and disposed of, picking up the broken glasses of engex and their sticky contents—it was a difficult endeavor, but one Minimus obviously enjoyed. 

Some part of Megatron smiled to see Minimus in his element, but another part of him was feeling suspiciously off. Every surface in the room, even the parts that had been wrecked, was coated in a light layer of dust. Minimus sniffed at this and pulled a feather duster from- from somewhere; Megatron just stared at the thin grey residue and felt out of touch. He had just found Ravage’s old bed, kicked underneath his berth, when a sudden, startling ache washed over his frame. As he stood up, the room swayed minutely, his vision fuzzing out for a moment. It felt like there was a pressure imbalance inside his head, pushing up against the back of his optics before retreating, leaving a disturbing emptiness that made his head throb. Megatron sat heavily down on the berth, one hand over his optic. 

Minimus stopped what he was doing as well, turning to face him with a puzzled look. “Why did you stop?” His expression shifted, catching the accusatory tone in his voice. “I- I mean,” he cleared his throat, “if you’d like to take a break, that would be amenable.” 

Megatron sighed, trying to muster up a smile for Minimus. He didn’t know if it came across well—Minimus only looked awkwardly stricken when their optics met. 

“I apologize, Minimus. I... I suppose my frame isn’t what it used to be.” His smile turned reminiscent in a way Minimus had never seen before. “Hah, and Ratchet always told me if I didn’t rest enough, my legs would rust right out from under me. I would love to tell him he was wrong—it’s my head that’s going, not my legs.”

Minimus tilted his head to one side like a turbofox. “Er, if you want to tell that to Ratchet, you know where his hab is. Unless you would like me to accompany you...?”

Megatron blinked at him, looking completely bewildered for half a second before understanding dawned over him. “Oh, no Minimus—I mean a different Ratchet. The Ratchet who,” he waved his hand vaguely, “you... you know.” 

A quiet expression had settled onto his face, still and somber and incredibly strange to Minimus. Megatron—this didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel like Megatron—not the one who started out stubborn and rude and slowly transformed into a person startlingly new and unlike anyone Minimus had ever met before. He didn’t even look quite the same; his frame was far more worn, aged and faded like he had lived a full life in the time Minimus had taken to just get over him.

And, well. He had, hadn’t he? 

Minimus looked about the room, at the messes that waited to be tidied up. He looked at the shelves that had been covered in dust but now were completely clean. He looked at Megatron: unavoidably altered but undoubtedly the same bot who regarded Minimus with soft looks whenever he thought he couldn’t see, rubbing his weary face with lines under his optics that were old but new to him—and Minimus set down the feather duster. 

He sat down on the berth next to Megatron, who glanced up with a look of curious surprise. “I would like to hear about this different Ratchet.”

Megatron blinked at him. Minimus felt himself blush a bit. “Er, that is, if you are alright with sharing that information—if the memories are too difficult for you to recall, please do not feel obligated-“ 

Megatron put a hand over his where it lay flat on the berth between them, effectively shutting Minimus’s processor off mid-thought. 

“That... sounds nice, Minimus.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

Yes yes yes hello hi Becky I missed you sm wtf uwu!!!!?? Gimme some of that angst u literally specialise in with Captains and Co-Captains, maybe like one of you gets caught cheating or something??? ilysm

Meg omg I missed writing for ur cute lil ass 🌻 I chose ur four face caps cos I'm lazy

Daichi Sawamura

✿ It was during the second year of your relationship, both of your first year in college. ✿ you had both gotten into different colleges at different ends of the country, so seeing each other all the time was difficult but you’d both look forward to your monthly get togethers✿ this time however, the weeks leading up to it would of been different. His replies would take longer and would be blunter than usual. You put it down to lack of seeing each other and decided to surprise him at the end of the month by visiting him a week earlier than you had planned. ✿ His roommate would know about it and had left you a key to let yourself into the apartment they shared. You decided to cook dinner for the both of you, his favourite, you had bought wine and even some chocolates. Netflix was loaded on the television and blankets lay on the couch. ✿ You had just finished plating the dish you had cooked up into bowls, when you heard his familiar laugh echo in the dorm halls outside the door. It made your stomach do flips, you could have screamed with excitement. You wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms and let all your insecurities about the last few weeks disappear. ✿ But as the door opened, the butterflies in your stomach contorted into a feeling of nausea and sickness. You felt your lips go dry and your heart begin to swell. Daichi HAD walked into the room as you had expected. But what you had not expected was his arms, that you had dreamt about being around you, wrapped around another person as he drew them closer to him. Their lips ghosting over each other’s as they smiled. ✿ He wouldn’t be the one to notice you, it would be the person he was kissing who would jump back and squeal slightly at your presence. Daichi wouldn’t be able to process it all at first, his mouth would be dry as ash as he tried to come up with the words to apologise. ✿ in the end, you’d just walk out, not even grabbing your things, and hike it back to your own college. You’d have thousands, literally, of missed calls and texts from Daichi for weeks. Eventually you’d end up sending him a text that simply said “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough”. And you’d change your number, completely erasing him from your life.

Kuroo Tetsuro

✿ You’d be at a house party, celebrating the third years going off to college. Obviously everyone who attended the farewell party knew about your relationship with Kuroo and you trusted him. So when your close friend told you they had seen Kuroo head upstairs, even though it was strictly out of bounds, you brushed it off as him trying to find somewhere to pee. (The queue downstairs was ridiculous after all). ✿ You had almost forgot about it, as you began to play a game of beer pong with some other 3rd years, and Lev who had some how managed to sneak in. You looked around the kitchen to see if Kuroo had returned yet and had seen you score that amazing pong just now, but he wasn’t there. ✿ You excused yourself from the game, ignoring Lev calling you a chicken, and wandered into the lounge area. Kuroo still wasn’t there, and you couldn’t see him outside through the patio doors either. The only other place he could be was still upstairs, and you almost smiled to yourself at the thought of your captain boyfriend passing out in the toilet or in one of the bedrooms. ✿ As you stepped over the string barrier that was supposed to keep people from wandering upstairs, you could’ve sworn you heard giggling and moans. Your face contorted at the thought of your fellow classmates doing to dirty in one of the bedrooms. ✿ You pulled out your phone and rang Kuroo. Moments later, you heard the bathroom echo from his ringtone and you smiled, knocking on the door. You heard him grunt and stutter out a simple “One second”. ✿ It wasn’t until the moaning that you had heard earlier on had started again that you realised where it was coming from. Your heart started beating faster and suddenly you felt dizzy, as you knocked on the door again, louder this time. ✿ “Jesus Christ - Lev - I said I’d be out in a minute let me, oh god, let me finish up in here first, fuck” tears began to form in your eyes at his dismissal, and without thinking you opened the door to the bathroom. The image of Kuroo pulling up his jeans so quickly may have been blurred by your tears but it would forever be ingrained in your memory. The person he was with covered themselves up hastily as they sat on the bathroom counter. His hands began to push back his hair and then suddenly he was reaching for you, crying, apologising, cursing. You couldn’t hear him, everything was white noise and blurry. Not just then, but for weeks. And all you could think about was Kuroos moans and cursing as he hid away in that bathroom.

Bokuto Kotaro

✿ You had both been arguing all night. Cursing each other out, screaming in each others faces. This was by far the worst argument either of you had had. Over something so trivial and small, too. ✿ Bo kept tugging at his hair as he sat upon a chair in the kitchen and watched you pick up pieces of glass from the floor. Neither one of you knew which one had thrown the glass to the ground and it remained unmentioned as you both sobbed inwardly. He rose and pulled out his phone, and you knew he was calling Akaashi to come and pick him up. ✿ You hissed as blood trickled from the tip of your finger from a shard of glass, and Bo instinctively reached for you, before withdrawing his hand at your bitter expression. You hated him, he thought. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much you hated him. ✿ Hours after he had left, and the apartment was quiet, you felt your eyelids become heavy and you slipped silently into your shared bed, inhaling the pillows on Bokutos side, sobbing at the emptiness and coldness of the sheets without him in them. He had never LEFT during a fight, not for this long anyway. ✿ Around 4;32am your phone began to vibrate on your bedside table. Normally you’d shut it off and wait till acceptable hours in the day to answer, but seeing Bokutos smile across the illuminated screen light a fire in you as you rose and pressed the green answer button. ✿ “Bo? Is everything okay? Do you need me to buzz you in? Where are y-” your concerned voice came to a halt as you heard some all so familiar sounds from the other end of the line. Your first instinct told you he was sobbing, crying, cursing to himself. But as you carried on listening, you heard two voices coming from your phone. Two sets of moans, two sets of “oh fucks” and “go faster"s. ✿ Your legs felt numb and your hands were stopping you from hanging up right there and then, stopping you from ending this torture of listening to the man you love have sex with somebody else. He didn’t even know you knew, he wasn’t even thinking about you. He didn’t even call you intentionally to say sorry. ✿ The only thing you could bring yourself to do was hang up and proceed to pack his things for him, your tears beginning to sting and burn your cheeks. He wouldn’t be greeted with a hug and a kiss and a string of “I’m sorry"s when he got back at 7am later that morning. The only thing Bokuto came back to that morning was 3 black bags of his belongings outside his apartment door and a goodbye note left from his heart broken lover.

Oikawa Tooru

✿ Being Oikawas S/O wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. You’d have to constantly deal with swarms of fan girls and boys in practically most places. Mainly, his games. ✿ Most of the time, it didn’t get to you as much as people assumed it would. But the days where all you heard were other people whispering about the things they’d let him to do them, it pissed you off beyond belief.✿ Today was one of those days. One where no matter which left you took, which corner your rounded, which door you opened, all you heard was Oikawas name being practically sang by adoring and pining fans. ✿ Like the two girls next to you at the vending machine, chatting about your boyfriend as if you didn’t even exist. Their giggles taunting you like mean school girls on the playground. You didn’t want to listen anymore, and you were about to grab your water and leave, when something the shorter girl said caught your attention. ✿ "Well, apparently they’ve been seeing each other for months, that’s why were invited to come se who’s game, stupid!! They said they’re gonna show us!!” ✿ “Where are they anyway? Should we go eavesdrop? Maybe we could hear him making some of those sweet noises they’ve been telling us about” the other replied almost cackling. Your stomach dropped, surely they weren’t still talking about Oikawa, YOUR Oikawa? ✿ “They said something about one of the storage cupboards” “Oh my gosh! That’s SO frisky” ✿ and now your heart was beating faster, because you knew exactly where they talking about, exactly which storage cupboard. That was where you’d both go after practice when you first started dating, where you had your first (somewhat unromantic) kiss. ✿ You took off without hesitation, you knew the route like the back of your hand. Tears fell across your face as you sped down the halls. You had smashed chests with Iwa-Chan along the way, and your tear stained face gave him an indication that something had happened with Oikawa. You weren’t heading for the exit, however, so he followed you. ✿ Iwa still wishes he hadn’t followed you. Not when he heard your heart broken cries as you pried open the storage units door. Your devastated sobs as Oikawa stood breathless in the door, his hand still up the other persons shirt. ✿ “I’m, oh god I’m sorry, fuck” would be the last thing you’d hear him say before you left. Left him stood sobbing to himself, guarded by Iwa as not to follow you. He lost the game that day, he lost two sets and cried himself to sleep, just like you did.