just a writer

Here I write and promote my fanfictions! You can find me on ao3 and wattpad under the same handle!

[beigewolf]

Hello!

Just a quick introduction! I have started an ao3 and Wattpad account (under the same handle) and decided to do the same here!

Key links:

works

#beigewolf oc’s

#triple agent au

#kin au

My works on ao3 are set so only someone with a user can read them. I apologise, but I feel more comfortable this way!

On this blog I will take requests, asks, or just about anything!

I may also write things related to my fanfics, such as incorrect quotes, small snippets, or scenes that I never included!

I will not write smut or anything problematic (nor will I write problematic or illegal ships!).

The fandoms I will write for include:

Transformers

Brave Police J-Decker

Teen Wolf

DC (mainly batfam and all of their respective teams)

Stranger Things

9-1-1

Supernatural

Squid Game

Alice in Borderland

The Black Phone

The Maze Runner

Shadowhunters / TMI

Once Upon A Time

Harry Potter

I am also currently writing some of my works on ao3 and wattpad, here’s a list of them!

Triple Agent (ao3, wattpad or #triple agent au on tumblr (or go to my tumblr master list!))

The Puppy Pack (ao3, wattpad, or #the puppy pack au on tumblr!)

You can also find my OC’s by searching for #beigewolf oc’s on tumblr!

I am a multi-shipper, so I will write just about anything! (Except for those that I have already said).

I will tag my fav ships, a little way you can get to know me!

[beigewolf]

After You

Word Count: 3,411

Pairing(s): Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Blurr, Implied Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Implied/referenced Chromia/Ironhide

Character(s): Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Blurr, Red Alert, Hot Shot, Ironhide, Brawn, Optimus Prime, Drift | Deadlock (referenced)

Fandom(s): Transformers Animated (2007)

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Canonical Character Death, Post-Transformers Animated, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship

Summary: Rodimus knew the Earth Team weren't to blame, but he couldn't help but feel resentment towards them. Not after Blurr. Or, how Rodimus deals with the aftermath of the War and Blurrs death.

You can find the story on ao3 and wattpad, or you can check out more of my stories here!

Rodimus heard about the end of the war whilst laying in a hospital bed, watching his paint flicker off his frame at the slightest vent of air. He still couldn't move - at least, not much. The rust still infected his joints, any movement stiff but also painful. Even smiling was uncomfortable.

He should be happy for the end of all the conflict, for the thought of Megatron in chains sat in the most secure cell the Autobots could think of. But, he couldn't help but feel... jealous, in a way. Especially at Optimus who, as Rodimus could see, stood on a parade float, waving to an overjoyed crowed with the Matrix hung around his neck. With his team.

His team who cared for him.

Yes, Rodimus felt awful about the casket he could spot, held up by bots he didn't recognise, but he couldn't help but feel negatively about it all.

There was Optimus, stood proudly with his team, then there was Rodimus, sat alone in a hospital bed, his efforts in the war forgotten in the face of the new 'hero'.

Deep down, Rodimus knew he wasn't alone, that his team would gladly come to visit him if he called. And they did, visit him, that is, gifting him trinkets and keeping him comfortable and entertained. But he also knew he wasn't the most charitable of patients, of a friend. He appreciated them all coming to see him, but gradually the visits slowed.

He knew that it was his fault. He had a tendency to push people away when he was hurt or suffering, when he didn't feel as up-beat that he usually did. And, after so many one-sided conversations, his teammates seemed to have given up on him. Red Alert still occasionally visited, she was a medic after all, but even her visits were few and far between.

At first he pretended to enjoy the silence, but overtime the quiet overtook him, and he regretted not trying harder. The silence was so incredibly loud, especially without... him.

Rodimus hated to think of him, think of the blue frame and conversations so fast he had to slow down the talking manually in his processor sometimes. The races had on a once peaceful Cybertron, where both of them were cadets in training, one for the title of Prime, the other for a place in the Elite Guard.

Just the thought of Blurr had Rodimus attempting a smile.

Blurr was one of the reasons Rodimus didn't think he could ever find peace, at least not with Optimus and his team. He knew that the space bridge repair crew turned heroes had something to do with the deactivation of the bot Rodimus cared most about. After all, he could still remember Blurr excitedly chatting to him about a mission assigned to him on Earth. A mission that he would never return from. A mission given to him by his superior.

Longarm Prime. A hoax. A disguise.

Shockwave.

A name that put fear and anger all throughout Rodimus's circuits. Knowing that a Decepticon was able to trick them all for so longer, was able to access all of their delicate and confidential files. Was able to be close to Blurr all the time, in close enough proximity that the false Prime could have easily killed Blurr.

Rodimus didn't truly know what happened to the other Decepticons, but he hoped Shockwave got the worst deal out of them all. If he had the strength and ability to do so, he would have clenched his servos at just the mere thought of Shockwave still being alive.

His monitors started beeping quicker at the heightened emotion, a strain now on his spark. Rodimus stopped thinking of the Decepticon and focused once more on the small screen in his room, an attempt to calm down his spark.

His optics spotted a small figure that he hadn't noticed before. It was yellow, with a full metal helmet over their helm. If Rodimus wasn't wrong, the stature seemed also to be organic in nature, especially since it was so small.

A nurse entered his room, knocking to show their presence, and Rodimus was forced to endure another check up. Though, thankfully, his vitals were better. Who knows, maybe he'll be able to be walking again soon and could finally end the mystery of Blurrs disappearance. Starting with a chat to one Optimus Prime.

Not long after the war ended, the medics deemed Rodimus healthy enough to be discharged from the hospital. Of course, he was also provided with a health care plan, as well as various medicines and treatments that he was required to take. One of the treatments included a form of yoga, which the medics encouraged he do as soon as he returned to his apartment complex.

Rodimus, of course, ignored that and sat straight on a chair in the centre of his main room when he returned home. He stretched languidly, turning on the holoscreen that floated in front of him. His plans for this late Cycle were to relax and wallow in self-pity.

Of course, looking at the holoscreen served him nothing but more misery. Channel after channel showed that famous day: Optimus and Crew stood in the centre of the parade. Crowds cheering, gathering around them in joy.

Rodimus, of course, scoffed. The war was over, and yes everybot should rejoice, but the attention around the Earth Crew was just being dragged, at least it was in his humble opinion.

What did tick him off more, however, was that hardly any news anchors or regular holovids showed any of the memorials placed on Cybertron, in remembrance of fallen comrades. Rodimus did recall seeing snippets of that black and gold bot on the screen occasionally, but that made it all the worse.

Of course the bot in Optimus's team would be shown, would get all the sympathy from the public. Not the rest of them, who were treated as cannon fodder and were now seemingly forgotten in the face of Cybertrons 'heroes'.

Rodimus vented, a servo drifting to palm his faceplate, calming himself. He wasn't being fair on the situation, blinded by guilt, jealousy, and envy. The black bot sacrificed himself to defeat the Decepticons, a significant feat many of Autobots tried and failed to do. It wasn't strange that he'd be mourned more by everyone, be worshipped.

It was plenty more than what Rodimus's Team ever achieved. Team Athenia had been defeated by Decepticons easily when defending the space bridge, and not even by officers. Primus, Rodimus himself was infected by the Rust Plague and almost died, and not one of his team managed to defeat an enemy.

At that thought, Rodimus felt the shame and self-doubt start to creep up in his frame. He always felt that his role of a Prime was insignificant, always shadowed by his peers achievements. He was always on the smaller side too, struggling to even pass the physical and written exams in the Academy to gain the title of Prime. Many of times during his younger days did he feel like giving up.

Of course, he never did, or he wouldn't be on berth rest in his hab. Blurr would always talk him out of his doubt, talking to him in a way that Rodimus felt important, felt that he could achieve his dream. Rodimus always liked Blurrs pep talks, although that could also be because his talks always involved some form of physical affection, affection that he always rejoiced in.

Now though, there was no small blue speedster to help calm him. To help him feel more confident and drag him out of his pit of self-resentment. There were no hugs or kisses on his cheek place. No kind words and soft murmurs in his audials...

Before Rodimus knew it, droplets of coolant trickled slowly down the ridges of his faceplate. He lifted a digit to stroke them away, only to release that his faceplate was already damp. He must have been crying for much longer than he thought.

He frantically scrubbed at the underside of his optics, trying desperately to stop the crying. But the action only made himself cry more, and soon he was a sobbing heap on the chair he had situated himself in, curled up as much as his aching frame could, wishing desperately for lithe arms to wrap around him and comfort him. Arms that no longer existed.

To Rodimus's surprise, not long after his discharge, Team Athenia appeared outside his apartment, carrying datapads and energon goodies. He stood staring at them all for a fair few kliks, until Red Alert lifted a servo in his line of sight, snapping him out of the surprised stupor he'd been in.

"You gonna let us in, Prime?" She asked, raising one optical ridge. She held a dish of rust sticks in her servos, the smell wafting over to Rodimus, making him yearn to reach out and take one. Red Alert vented harshly, and Rodimus realised she'd spoken.

"Oh," he said, if not a little dumbly. "I mean- yeah, come in." He stepped aside, allowing his teammates to enter, and by Primus they were all present. Red Alert, Brawn, Hot Shot- even Ironhide had made an appearance, and here Rodimus had been convinced the orange bot had hated him.

The four made themselves comfortable in the Primes living space, placing their dishes of goodies on the table, and propping up their datapads on shelves. To Rodimus's surprise, he released they were get-well soon letters. He'd be sure to read them later.

Rodimus closed the door to his hab, then joined up with them. He ended up sitting on the most comfortable seat he owned, placing him between Red Alert and Hot Shot. Ironhide had grabbed one of the chairs in his kitchen, whilst Brawn sat on the largest chair Rodimus owned, which, by all accounts, wasn't that big.

"So how've you been?" Hot Shot was the first to converse, grasping at Rodimus's arm, though he softened his grip when Rodimus involuntarily winced. "I mean, you've been in the hospital for deca-cycles, and you don't seem all up for conversations when you were there."

"One would think you've been avoiding us," Ironhide grunted, looking at Rodimus pointedly.

Rodimus vented out softly, relaxing into Hot Shots grip and Red Alerts gentle hold on his servo. "Yeah, just adjusting, y'know?" He ducked his helm. "And I'm sorry if it seemed I've been avoiding you all, I've just had a lot to process."

He raised his helm at Red Alerts comforting squeeze of his servo. He glanced at her, spotting the medic exchanging a meaningful glance with the rest of his team. Usually he would question them, but he doesn't feel he has the energy.

"We understand," Red Alert assured, her optics soft. "It had been a difficult time for all of us, but I can't imagine what you're feeling."

Brawn nodded, "yeah, not surprised you've been alone this whole time."

Rodimus winced, lowering his optics. As much as he loved his team, he knew it would be a while before he'd be ready to talk about, well, everything that had happened in his life since Megatron made a reappearance.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Hot Shot said, shooting a smile his way when Rodimus looked at him. "There's plenty of things we can talk about, like, hm..." Hot Shot pretended to think, placing a digit under his chin. "Oh!" He exclaimed dramatically, "have I told you of the time Ironhide tripped over a dispenser and spilled energon everywhere because he caught Chromia looking at him?"

Ironhide spluttered from his seat, "hey now," he began, an embarrassed blue hue on his faceplates. Rodimus had to hold in a laugh. "It doesn't have to be about me now, does it?"

Brawn let out a snort, and Hot Shot cackled. Rodimus smiled, letting a quiet amused huff escape him.

Something nudged his arm, and he turned to look over at Red Alert. She was holding a gummy between two of her digits, looking pointedly at him. Rodimus couldn't tell what the treat was, he was never much of a cook, but he could smell it, and it smelled delicious.

"You gonna eat these or not?" She said teasingly. "They were made for you, you know?"

Rodimus chuckled, taking the treat and placing it in his intake, optics widening at the way it melted in his mouth when he chewed. Red Alert sent him an amused grin, ignoring the arguing Hot Shot and Ironhide continued, Brawn still being an unwilling participant.

"It won't all be bleak," Red Alert said knowingly, taking a bite out of a rust stick. "Primus has a strange way of rewarding those who earned it, and from what I can see, you do." She rested a servo on his arm, squeezing it in comfort. "Happiness will come to you again, Rodimus, I promise."

Rodimus nodded, grateful, but he wasn't sure he truly believed her. It's been deca-cycles since the accident, and he doesn't feel much better. But, he supposed, having his team with him had already made it better, so maybe he'd be okay.

Soon after, Rodimus had been cleared fully by the doctors, the rust no longer effecting his systems and his joints were fluid once more. He'd already celebrated the fact with Team Athenia by going to Maccadams, greeting old comrades and friends.

He'd been pleasantly surprised to see Drift, an ex-'Con who'd helped him in the past and they'd soon become quick friends. Rodimus hadn't seen much of him, Drift preferring to go on his own errands by his lonesome, so seeing him in a public space was surprising.

Drift revealed that he'd come back because of Megatrons defeat, as well as to reconnect with an old friend of his. Rodimus felt happy for him, knowing that the elusive bot was speak of a partner in the romantic sense, but he also couldn't help but feel envy, that Drift could have the person he loved but not him.

Thankfully Drift knew him more than Rodimus expected, and he changed the subject quickly, but by then it was too late. A lot of Rodimus's thoughts had returned to the blue mech that haunted his dreams, and not even seeing Ironhide spill his high grade over a subtle flirt by Chromia could truly make him forget.

After that outing, Rodimus hadn't been much of anywhere. He'd returned back to his Prime work, mostly seeing to the captured Decepticons and figuring out where any strays might have hidden. However even that had been slow work, now that the War was officially over, a lot of the 'Cons either surrendered or hid once more, not daring to stir up trouble without their leader.

He did manage to corner Optimus Prime during one of his rare outings. The hero Prime had glowed when Rodimus had met him, the exact opposite of what Rodimus felt in his spark, although he could see something weighed down on the older Primes shoulders.

Rodimus paid it no mind, and demanded answers from Optimus about Blurr as soon as he was cornered. Optimus seemed taken aback, weary and anxious but also slightly regretful.

"Blurr was a good bot, from what I could tell," Optimus began, and Rodimus began interrupting him before the dual coloured Prime began talking again. "He helped us, when he was on Earth, but he was pulled into a space bridge with two seeker clones." Optimus paused, as though attempting to gather his thoughts. "He was a good bot, and I'd hoped he'd survived, but... I'm sorry for your loss, Rodimus, but I wasn't truly at fault."

And Rodimus let him leave after that, feeling incredibly guilty. He knew Optimus was feeling the same he was, having lost a member of his team who was obviously a close friend, and now Rodimus had made him feel worse by accusing him of causing Blurr's death.

So, he sat once more in his apartment, mostly to avoid Optimus after he'd apologised to him, scrolling through the various channels on the holoscreen. If there was one thing Rodimus was grateful for about the war ending (aside from the obvious), was that more and more bots participated in the arts once more, so it was rare he was ever bored.

His binge was interrupted by sharp knocking on his door, coming in such short and powerful bursts that Rodimus was surprised a hole hadn't been created in the metal.

He huffed, standing up to answer. The knocks came once more, and he grumbled, putting in the code so the door would slide open. However, what greeted him on the other side made him want to slam it back closed.

There, twitching and nervous, stood a small blue bot, wide blue optics and wheels on top of pedes. The Autobrand had been removed from the blue chassis, but Rodimus would still recognise this bot anywhere.

Blurr.

"Hi-Rodimus-it's-so-nice-to-see-you-again-I'm-going-to-be-honest-I'm-really-nervous-right-now-and-you-just-standing-there-isn't-helping-so-would-youpleasesaysomethingbeforeIrun."

Rodimus continued to stare, intake agape, not fully processing the words coming out the bots vocaliser in quick precision. "What," he said, then shook his helm. "You're... supposed to be dead." He couldn't yet say the racers name, afraid that if he speaks it aloud this illusion he'd created will disappear, and he'd be alone once more.

"Funny-story-actually-according-to-Red-Alert-as-long-as-your-sparks-intact-you're-not-truly-dead-though-I-suppose-you-should-really-thank-the-human-girl-for-saving-me-and-hey-the-AllSparks-now-a-part-of-her-isn't-that-crazy?" Blurr rambled.

Rodimus blinked, taking a while to translate the glyphs that were thrown at him even faster than he remembered, before he fully processed the meaning.

"Wait," he said, holding up a servo, the other placed on his forehelm, "Red knew about this? And the human girl? The one on Optimus's team?" Rodimus guessed that was what Red Alert said to him about Primus rewarding good bots, she knew that it was true. And, from the look the rest of his team threw, that they knew too.

Blurr nodded rapidly. "Yeah-Red-Alert-knew-but-I-made-her-promise-not-to-say-anything-until-I-recovered-so-don't-be-mad-at-her-and-funny-story-I-met-the-Earth-team-a-while-ago-on-Earth-and-I-helped-them-with-Starscream-before-finding-out-the-mole-and-running-back-to-Cybertron-where-I-found-out-Longarm-was-Shockwave-and-I-was-crushed-before-the-human-girl-saved-me-and-here-I-am."

"I knew Shockwave had something to do with your death," Rodimus paused, then spoke again, "supposed death, I guess."

"At-least-Shockwaves-locked-up-now-and-had-failed-in-killing-me-and-can't-hurt-anyone-and-are-youfinallygoingtogivemeahugnow?!" Blurr spat out the last sentence so fast Rodimus couldn't compute it at first, before he blushed.

Hesitantly, Rodimus reached out with one servo, slowly and afraid that Blurr would disappear at the first contact, like a figment of the Primes imagination. Blurr stay perfectly still, well aside from the nervous vibrations that rattled his frame.

With one last vent, Rodimus reached out to touch the frame, wrapping one servo around a thin arm. He shuttered his optics, afraid to see the illusion disappear, but when he could still feel the warm metal in his servo, he opened them once more.

Blurr was looking at him hopefully, servos twitchy as though he longed to reach out but held himself back in fear of spooking him.

With one last hesitant thought, Rodimus latched on to the smaller frame, curling both arms around his back and hugging him close. He could feel Blurr wrap his own arms around his back, hugging really tight. Rodimus began crying at the contact.

"It's really you," he whispered, gripping so tightly he feared he dented Blurrs frame.

"Itsmeitsmeitsmeitsme-" Blurr said back, equally as relieved and distressed, before he was cut off by dermas connecting to his own.

Rodimus kissed Blurr with all the emotions that he had held back all these cycles. Fear, resentment, guilt, but also relief, contentment, and love. So so so much love.

Blurr embraced him with equal sincerity, the connection of their dermas a welcome and familiar feeling, Blurr leaning into it like a starved mech.

They soon broke apart, Blurrs servos moving to rest on Rodimus's waist, whilst Rodimus's own rested on Blurrs cheek plates, wiping away the coolant tears rolling down his faceplate.

"I love you," Rodimus said, letting out a short, hysterical laugh as he embraced Blurr again, leaning down to tuck his helm into Blurrs neck cables.

"I love you," Blurr said, clear and at normal speed, hugging him back. Rodimus began crying again (and when did he stop), the familiar smooth voice of his lover calming him.

It had been so long since Blurr had spoken slowly, usually only reserved it for bots that made him feel calm and loved, and Rodimus was so thankful Blurr considered him as such.

The two stayed embraced in Rodimus's doorway, ignoring the outside world as they reunited once more, thanking Primus and anyone who would listen for bringing them back to one another.

[beigewolf]

Reunions Of Those Lost

Pairing(s): Bumblebee/Smokescreen, Jazz/Prowl, Optimus Prime/Elita One

Master list found here!

First | Previous | Next

Chapter Five:

"Ignoring orders of your commanding officers, no matter your relations to them, is incredibly reckless Smokescreen," Prowl reprimanded. He leant against the table Smokescreen sat behind, servos placed on the surface and disapproving stare baring into him.

Smokescreen wilted under that gaze. Although many Autobots had been faced with the look his Sire was giving him, it was very rarely turned onto himself, and certainly not at this scale. It showed just how much Smokescreen had fragged up.

He didn't even want to defend himself, not while Bumblebee was in the medibay with Ratchet currently undergoing surgery. Not why he was band from seeing Bumblebee as a form of punishment. Not whilst all he could think about was if Bumblebee was okay and if he hadn't already bled out, no matter his Carriers quick first aid.

"-screen. Smokescreen!" With a jerk, Smokescreen realised Prowl was calling out to him to get his attention. Raising his optics, he saw Prowls unamused face.

"Sorry, Sire," Smokescreen apologised. Prowl sent him a stern glare, and Smokescreen reiterated, "sorry, sir."

Prowl nodded approvingly, then vented. He pulled out the chair he was leaning behind, moving to sit in it. Sitting down, he and Smokescreen were near-enough optic level, and Smokescreen no longer felt intimidated.

Prowl interlaced both his servos in front of him, looking at Smokescreen. Jazz, who had since been quiet lent against the wall that Smokescreen had all but forgotten about him, walked over to the two, resting a servo on the back of Prowls chair.

"Look, we give you orders to keep you safe, you know that, right?" Jazz asked. When Smokescreen refused to looked at him, he vented, expanding more on his point. "Mirage said that you were cornered by two 'Cons by the time he'd found you," Jazz explained, "if he had been just kliks too late, you could have been killed."

Smokescreen lowered his optics in shame. He was trained for combat, or at least enough to get by, but at the first sign of an actual fight he froze. That, and if he were deactivated, he knew his Carrier and Sire would never stop grieving him, nor stop blaming themselves.

And then there was Bumblebee. If Smokescreen had been killed by those 'cons, Bumblebee would have woken up with the knowledge that his best friend was gone.

Prowl vented, placing a servo on his faceplate in frustration. "I understand worrying for your comrades, Smokescreen, but you understand that you have to be punished for your misbehaviour?" Prowl questioned. At Smokescreens nod, he continued, "so, your punishment is one cycle in the brig, and your visitation rights to visit Bumblebee are being revoked for a deca-cycle."

Smokescreen raised his helm in alarm. A whole deca-cycle without seeing Bumblebee? Smokescreen can stand the thought of the brig, (after all Sideswipe and Sunstreaker get placed in there all the time, surely it can't be that bad?) but not being able to visit Bumblebee?

"We'll tell you his progress, Smokes, don't worry," Jazz reassured, "you just won't be able to see him, besides he might be in stasis for half that time, and minimal distractions will help with his recovery."

Smokescreen nodded gratefully, "thank you."

Prowl then stood, offering a servo to his creation when he moved beside the sat mech. "You will go to the brig now, then next cycle I will be down to let you out, where you will spend the remainder of your time in your quarters."

Smokescreen accepted Prowls help, moving to his pedes. "Yes, sir," he accepted, but his doorwings drooped.

Prowl wiggled his in response, as though trying to cheer the white mech up, "you have to understand we do not wish to do this, but unfortunately, for the sake of the rules, we must."

"I understand," Smokescreen said. He looked to his carrier, the one he assumed would take him down to the brig, "I'm ready."

Jazz smiled, it was a small thing on his derma, but Smokescreen spotted it anyway. His carrier rounded the desk separating the two, and he rested a gentle servo on Smokescreens back, just below the joints that connected his door wings to his frame.

Prowl stepped back slightly, giving the two room to leave. Smokescreen spared a glance at his sire only to see Prowl looking right back at him. A resigned look shone in his optics, but a slight of adoration and worry could also be seen. Smokescreen now knew his sire wasn't truly mad at him, not really, he was just worried.

With that thought, Smokescreen turned away, nodding at his carrier. Jazz started to guide them out of the office, sending a look back to Prowl that Smokescreen was too late to see, before the door closed behind them when they entered the hallway.

Thankfully, the halls to the brig were empty, only the occasional bot to be seen walking along them. Smokescreen was glad that the halls were empty, but then immediately chastised himself for thinking that. He knew the reason that the base wasn't as busy as when he was younger was because of the many Autobots that were killed in battle. He could even seen memorials in the halls honouring fallen comrades.

Despite not having an audience from the unfortunate circumstances, creator and creation didn't speak to one another. Their fields meshed together, speaking all the words needed. Smokescreens guilt, worry, and resignation, and Jazz's love, anger, and worry all mixed into one big emotional field.

So, if a bot were to get incredibly close to them, they would be able to sense a conversation hidden between two family members. But, because those in the hall avoided the two, their conversation remained private.

Eventually, Jazz lead Smokescreen down to the lower floors, walking through various doors until they got to the brig. A guard was at the entrance, and he nodded at the two in greeting.

The brig itself was split into multiple sections, the cells furthest away from the base (separated from the rest of the brig by reinforced metal doors) housing the most dangerous Decepticons, and the ones closest used for disciplinary. It was designed so it would be harder for Decepticons to escape, but also kept Autobots as safe as they could be whilst down there. The intimidation tactic of having both Autobot and Decepticon together was an added bonus for discipline.

Jazz opened the cell closest to the door, this one of better quality than the slums some of the Decepticons were thrown in. At least the berth in this cell looked comfortable enough. Smokescreen was just thankful he was the only one locked up down here.

"In the early cycle I'll come down and get you again, it's only the night cycle that you'll stay here really," Jazz assured, guiding Smokescreen into the cell. "Although the brig is empty at the moment, in event of an emergency unlock the cell using this-" he then pointed to keypad, then threw a keycard at Smokescreen, "-and this to leave."

Smokescreen nodded, sub-spacing the offered card. He had since moved to the berth, sat upon its surface. His plan was to recharge most of his punishment off, so that he could return to his quarters quicker.

Jazz vented, "we don't want to punish you, Smokescreen, but like we said, we can't show favouritism."

Smokescreen nodded, waving away Jazz's concerns, "I know, carrier, I won't hold it against you, promise," he replied, "I understand."

Jazz moved to rub at Smokescreen helm affectionately, "you grew up so fast," he lamented, then moved out of the holding cell, "if anything major happens to Bumblebee when you're down here, we'll let you know, okay? You won't be in the dark."

Smokescreen nodded, thankful at how caring his creators can be. With one last look, Jazz closed and locked the cell and walked away. Smokescreen could hear a vague conversation between his carrier and the guard, but nothing that his audio receptors could pick up.

Venting, now all alone, Smokescreen laid back on the berth, fully prepared to recharge. But, as he laid his helm on the cold surface, thoughts swirled in his processor.

He felt immense guilt at potentially putting Bumblebee in more harm, shame in betraying the trust that his creators had so faithfully put into him, and regret for not listening.

Most importantly, he felt fear. Bumblebee's condition was unknown, and though his creators had told him he was okay, Smokescreen still worried, still feared that the worst could soon happen.

Health can flip in a nano-klik. Bumblebee could be doing okay in one moment, and then suddenly be critical in the next. If that were to happen, Smokescreens last interaction with the yellow bot would have been in those vents, not a comforting memory at all.

He could still remember Bumblebees pained cries, his fearful determination. The way his faceplate was overcome in fear as he fell through the vents weak plating...

No. Smokescreen couldn't think of that. Not only was it making him worry for no reason (after all, Bumblebee was being seen by Ratchet, who was by far the best medic on base), he was also tarnishing all the good memories he and Bumblebee had shared together.

So, as Smokescreen laid down on the berth and attempted recharge once again, he vowed that even if Bumblebee were to never online again, he would treasure the moments they had together close to his spark.

Elita pinged the access code to the medibay doors, which were currently closed whilst Bumblebee was being looked over by Ratchet. She hasn't yet been able to see her adopted creation yet, busy with reports and not being notified of his condition until recently, but now that she has she doesn't want to be anywhere else.

The door sent a ping back, signaling it open. Elita paused, servo raised, ready to open the door, but she felt hesitant. As of now, in her processor, Bumblebee was okay. He was alive, functioning, and in the shining condition she last saw him in. When she does open the door, her creation may be in a state that her poor spark cannot stand to see him in.

She took a vent.

In, and out.

In, and out.

Prolonging the inevitable will not help, she internally told herself. Elita tried to listen to her inner thoughts, but her frame remained frozen, solid. She continued to vent, controlling her rapidly whirring spark in her chassis.

Worrying won't help Bumblebee, she tried again, attempting to get her frame moving again and not stuck in the same position from fear. Your creation needs you by his berth side, not stood worrying about imaginary situations.

Finally, she gathered all the courage her frame could manage, and she opened the door.

Her optics adjusted to the bright light of the medibay, her vision blurred until her systems were used to the light. When they settled, she immediately spotted Bumblebees yellow plating on the berth.

She rushed over, quickly taking up a spot next to him. Bumblebee's plating was scratched, with dents and other injuries scattered across it. Thankfully there was no grime or energon spilled across the bright colours - Elita didn't think she could stand the sight of his frame coated in his own energon, no matter how grotesquely the colour would match his yellow.

She settled down on the chair First Aid provided (and now that she was thinking it, where were Ratchet and Optimus?), taking Bumblebees servo in her own. He was still in recharge, but she could hear the whirring of his spark and the huffs of his vents. His servo was cold, but his chassis emitted a heat she could see with her optics.

"Ratchet and Optimus are in his office," First Aid explained, gesturing to the door stationed behind him, "you're more than welcome to join them."

Elita shook her head, denying the offer. Now that Bumblebee was in her sights, she didn't want to look away from him anytime soon. That uncontrollable fear that he would disappear if she did wound so tightly in her frame she feared she would never leave this chair, not whilst Bumblebee remained unresponsive.

First Aid nodded, finished up tidying Bumblebee's berth and making sure he was comfortable, then stepped elsewhere to give the carrier and creation as much privacy as they could have.

Elita squeezed tightly at Bumblebee's servo, spark breaking at having no response back. She could see the jagged lines on his throat, the fragile welding done by professional servos not refined yet. Not that it will be until it is healed to prevent Bumblebee further harm. Elita had heard of unhealed welds being fatally torn back open because mecha were too impatient, too obsessed with perfection.

Elita doesn't know the exact happenings of the mission, not in so much detail that she could recount all of Bumblebees injuries. Prowl had attempted to explain it to her, but anything her audio receptors heard didn't compute in her processor past 'Bumblebee's injured'. Optimus would surely explain it to her if she asked, but right now Elita preferred just being there for Bumblebee.

She doesn't think she would want to know anyway, lest she go out and kill whoever did this to her poor creation. Already she felt the anger and hatred bubble up in her circuits, feel her spark pulse angrily. Bumblebee squirmed in his recharge, unsettled, no doubt sensing Elitas rage-filled field. Elita forced herself to calm, being angry wasn't going to help Bumblebee in the slightest. Her creation needed her support, her care and her love, and by Primus would she give that to him.

Elita doesn't know how long had passed whilst she sat in the room, staring at Bumblebee in silent worry, pulsing all the love she could into her field to try and calm his restless processor. That was until the door to Ratchets office was opened. Quickly, she stood, but went no further, not willing to let go of 'Bees servo.

Optimus's faceplate brightened in her presence, her Conjunx obviously happy for the support, but it fell when looking at Bumblebee still on the berth.

Ratchet walked to stand opposite Elita, taking a look at Bumblebees vitals quickly before writing something on the datapad he carried in his servo. "I'm sure you'll want to know what I told Optimus?" He asked, raising an optical ridge at the femme.

Elita nodded, unable to express any words.

Ratchet didn't mention anything, understanding of her situation. Going by the slight strain in his field, Elita had no doubt he felt the same worry she did.

"Bumblebee suffered extreme injuries to his frame, including various Energon line punctures and fractures across his frame," Ratchet began, in the same monotone voice all medics were required to use when referring to their patients. "The worst of the injuries is the crushed intake and damaged neck cables."

Ratchet took a pause here, as though gathering his strength to speak. His field, though usually tight to his frame when dealing with patients, leaked the slightest strands of guilt and shame. Elita wondered briefly what was so wrong to have the medic so emotional, to break the crafted professionalism he had perfected.

"With Bumblebee's neck cables being damaged, his voice box was crushed beyond repair," Ratchet explained solemnly. He dipped his helm, hiding the coolant tears that threatened to leave his optics, and the way his derma curled in an effort to stay composed. "I fear that, until we are fortunate to find a working vocaliser, that Bumblebee will be unable to speak again."

Elita gasped, servo reaching Optimus's. The Prime easily gave his Conjunx the comfort she was searching for, squeezing her smaller servo in his own. Optimus himself was shocked, Elita could see it even on his grim faceplate.

"For the time being, Bumblebee will be able to communicate in standard binary," Ratchet continued. He took a vent, then looked at both Elita and Optimus, the devastated look now visible on his faceplate. "I'm-I'm sorry," Ratchet apologised as he sagged forward.

"It is not your fault, old friend," Optimus assured, reaching to clasp Ratchet on the shoulder. "You did all you could."

Elita, seeing Ratchets face, quickly moved herself to wrap the medic in a tight hug. Ratchet seemed startled, then slowly relaxed into the femmes hold. Elita chose not to mention the coolant she could feel on her shoulder, no doubt Ratchet feeling the same.

"Thank you," she murmured into his plating, hugging him tight, "thank you for saving my creation."

She felt as Optimus wrapped his large body around them both, enveloping both his Amica and Conjunx in the warmth of his frame.

The trio stayed like that for a while, comforting one another, choosing to ignore each other's obvious pain and tears.

It took another three Cycles until Bumblebee awoke, optics flickering and vision returning in a slow fade. His Carriers servo held his own, or at least he thought it was his Carriers by the smaller feel of the appendage.

He was proven right when a pink helm appeared in his vision, faceplate shocked, happy, and relieved all at the same time. His was pleasantly surprised to find his Sires face also appear.

"Bumblebee," Elita said in a vent, smile widening. She turned behind her, "Ratchet!" She shouted, calling for the medic.

Bumblebee could hear Ratchet quickly rush to the room, abandoning whatever he was doing previously to rush to the yellow mechs berth-side.

There was murmurs that Bumblebees audials couldn't yet pick up, but then Ratchets face appeared in his line of sight, optics assessing his frame.

"Nice to see you up, Bumblebee," Ratchet greeted, a small smile graced his derma. Bumblebee tried to speak, but felt as if he couldn't. Oddly, only beeps erupted from his sore vocaliser.

Ratchets smile dropped, and he moved out of Bumblebees sight. Elita and Optimus gave the doctor a look, one that Bumblebee couldn't quite put a name to, before they turned their gaze back to him.

Their optics were full of sympathy, guilt, and, oddly enough, a speck of loathing, though the yellow scout could tell it wasn't aimed at him.

"Welcome back, sweetspark," Elita murmured, moving a servo to stroke Bumblebees helm soothingly. "Glad to see those blue optics again."

"Indeed," Optimus smiled, laying a comforting servo on Bumblebees shoulder. When Bumblebee tried to greet him back, Optimus quickly stopped that with a soft squeeze of his servo. "At ease, Bumblebee, talking will only damage your vocaliser further."

Bumblebee, trusting his sires words completely, immediately stopped. He nodded, but still tilted his helm in confusion.

Ratchet was back in his view again, this time with a datapad in his servo. "How are you feeling?" He asked, then realised that Bumblebee wouldn't speak. "Nod yes if you're okay and no if you feel any pain."

Bumblebee shook his head. He didn't feel pain, just a slight ache that he'd get when he got too little recharge, or too much. From the way his creators were acting, Bumblebee guessed he'd been offline for a while.

Ratchet jotted something down on the datapad. Something must have been worrying him, because despite the medics insistence on mannerisms and professionalism, he'd never acted this coldly towards Bumblebee.

"Do you remember anything?" Ratchet then asked, this time in a more gentle tone, "try not to strain your processor so much, the memories should come back naturally if not."

Bumblebee sat for a while, trying to reroute his processor to access the memories before he'd gone offline. They were hazy, and it took focus to clear them, but once he did one, they all flooded in.

The mission. Jazz. The Decepticons. The vent. Smokescreen.

Megatron.

Pain. Hurt. Fear. Helplessness. Then a harsh numbness as something teared into his throat cables. Then darkness.

The memories overwhelmed Bumblebee, and in his panic he dint realise one of his servos had latched onto his throat cabling, trying to do something with it.

His creators and Ratchet tried to pull it away gently, but Bumblebee refused to let go. He only snapped out of it when he woke up again, this time servo lying limply by his side.

In his haze, Ratchet must have administered a sedative. He did feel calmer.

His Carrier and Sire were still by his side, and their faces remained soft when his optics landed back on them.

"You gave us quite the scare, 'Bee," Elita said softly, servo held tightly in his own, "what happened? Was it the memories?"

Bumblebee nodded, and Elita gave his servo a gentle squeeze in support and reassurance. He could feel the images slowly creep back up into his processor, but he shook them away, unwilling to face them after last time. Instead, he began to think about Smokescreen, knowing the older bots image would be enough to calm him down.

Ignoring his Sires earlier warning, Bumblebee attempted to speak once more, and, just like last time, only the beeps of binary came out of his vocaliser, making him sound like a sparkling. He tried again but gained the same result, only this time with a slight spark in his throat.

Ratchet immediately tilted his helm to look at the damage Bumblebee may have inflicted, but soon dropped the grip he had on the youngsters chin when there were no visible injuries.

Ratchet went to scold Bumblebee, but when he looked at his faceplate, his expression softened at seeing the panicked look in his optics.

Bumblebee looked to all three of them, each one of them now looking at him with sympathy, though he could sense a flash of grief and guilt in their fields.

Elita gripped his servo tighter, offlining her optics, as though gathering up the courage to say something. What that is Bumblebee doesn't know.

"Sweetspark," Elita began after she opened her optics once more, exchanging a quick look with Ratchet and Optimus, "when we saved you from the mission, you were gravely injured." A shudder came over her frame, the metal rattling with the motion. She seemed as shook up as 'Bee felt in that moment. "Though Ratchet managed to repair most of your injuries, there was one he was unable to fix, the damage was too much."

Bumblebee lifted a shaky servo, pointing a digit at his neck, right where his voice box should be. His Carrier nodded gravely.

"I'm sorry, Bumblebee," Ratchet expressed, the guilt and regret clear in his field and the way he held himself, "it should, in theory, be a simple fix, but with the limited materials we currently have..."

Bumblebee shook his head, beeping once again in binary to attempt to placate Ratchet. He doesn't quite understand what he's saying, only making out the tone of the beeps and whines. If he was many vorns younger, just bordering on a youngling, he could have communicated, but that code was overridden when he upgraded.

Ratchet must have understood, or at least assumed what Bumblebee was trying to say, as he gave a small sad smile, not quite pity but also not yet forgiveness.

"Anyway," Ratchet shook his helm, "I repaired your voice box to the best of my ability, but unfortunately it now only speaks in the simplest form it can: binary." Ratchet took out his datapad again, analysing something before placing it in his subspace. "We will of course have to re-teach you how to communicate, as well as learn the rest of the Autobots, but I'm sure it won't take too long, you're a smart 'bot."

Bumblebee smiled, nodding his helm, earning another smile back from Ratchet. Then he jerked, suddenly remembering something. He attempted to ask the others bots in the room by attempting to speak with a different tone, after all it seemed to work to an extent last time.

This time seemed to be different, as he earned nothing but confused and patient faces. With a huff, Bumblebee then tried miming what he wanted to say, moving his servos in a wispy manner, then shaping them into a box.

Elita was the first to understand, smiling softly. "Smokescreen is okay, but he is incredibly worried about you, sweetspark," she stroked his helm when she said it. "I imagine he had a lot to think about and worry over in the brig."

Bumblebee recoiled back, questioning beeps emitting from his vocaliser.

"It is nothing bad, Bumblebee," Optimus was the one to assure him this time, "Smokescreen was just serving time in the brig for punishment of actions done after your capture." Bumblebee went to try to say something, but Optimus gently cut him off, "he is now returned to his quarters, and he is fine, it was merely just a strong emotional response for your pain."

Bumblebee tilted his head, another question hanging from his derma.

"Smokescreen will be able to visit you, now that you are online I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to speak to you again," Elita reassured, squeezing Bumblebees servo with a teasing smile, "how about I go and grab him after Ratchets examination so you two can spend some time together?"

Bumblebee nodded his helm, excited. His Carrier chuckled slightly, Ratchet and Optimus giving small smiles.

Later, when Bumblebee had been cleared from any damages (apart from the obvious), Elita trekked down the halls of the Autobots base, one location in mind.

She stopped in front of Jazz and Prowls door, knocking to request entry. It opened, revealing Jazz. He held a strange musical instrument that Elita didn't recognise (not that she would know much about music, it was never her strong suit). She seemed to have interrupted his practice session.

"Elita!" Jazz greeted cheerily, bright smile on his faceplate, a twinkle in his visor, "to what do I owe this visit?"

"I'm actually here for Smokescreen," Elita stated. Jazz stepped inside the hab, inviting Elita in without a glyph. She took the time to look around to look for the saboteurs other half, but surprisingly Prowl was nowhere to be seen.

"Prowlers off with Red Alert reviewing some footage they found, Primus knows what's in it, what with Reds track record," Jazz snorted, though not meanly. He then gestured to a door near the back of the hab, "Smokescreens in his quarters, probably sulking, though I hope he's doing something productive."

Elita nodded, moving to the door, knocking. Smokescreen didn't answer straight away, probably believing she was his creators, so she knocked again, voicing her presence. Not long after, the door opened, showing an upset but hopeful Smokescreen.

His wandering gaze found hers, and his posture straightened, trying to put on a brave facade in front of one of his commanding officers.

Elita had to hide her smile at the act, unable to not be fond of the young mech in front of her. "At ease, Smokescreen," she said, watching as the mechs frame deflated, but his plating vibrated slightly in worry. "Bumblebee is conscious again, and he wishes to see you."

Smokescreens optics widened, "now?" He asked.

Elita nodded, moving out of the doorway and gesturing for Smokescreen to follow her. The young mech did, waving goodbye to his carrier as he did so. Elita held Jazz's questioning gaze, and sent him a quick rundown of the situation through his comm. The saboteur nodded once he'd read it all, giving Elita a supportive smile, to which she returned gratefully.

Smokescreen remained quite whilst Elita lead him down the halls to the medibay, thinking about the situation laid before him. He was so incredibly happy that Bumblebee was awake, but having all that time to himself in the brig made him put some things into perspective.

Truthfully, he's unsure of how he's going to look Bumblebee in the optic when he sees him. The thought of Bumblebee laying on the medibay bed, littered with injuries that Smokescreen couldn't stop... the thought made him shiver.

Elita stopped him just outside the doors of the medibay, physically turning him so she could look him in the optic. She placed two servos on his shoulders, giving him a look.

"Before we go in, Bumblebee has had some... permanent changes to his frame," she began, and Smokescreen couldn't help but be utterly focused with what she was saying. "Due to extensive damage to his throat, his vocaliser was destroyed, and Ratchet had to replace it with a more primitive model."

"He can still speak though, right?" Smokescreen asked, somewhat naively.

He dreaded to think of the implications Elita was saying, but he couldn't help but be hopeful. Let him live in a dreamland where Bumblebee is uninjured, happy, and safe, though he knew that fantasy would be ripped from his servos as soon as Elita spoke again.

Elita shook her head grimly, "he can communicate only with binary, I'm afraid to say his chances of speaking in Cybertronian again are low, according to Ratchet." She gave him a wry smile, "though we can hope, right?"

Smokescreen nodded, now determined to find a fit vocaliser for Bumblebee whenever he gets the opportunity. He will fix this mistake, and he will make sure Bumblebee is whole again.

"Don't be getting any reckless ideas," Elita scolded, pointing a digit at him, "we don't need you on a hospital bed either."

Smokescreen nodded, though not all that truthful. By Elitas look, she thought the same.

"Just, please act normal when Bumblebee attempts to speak," Elita pleaded, "the beeps can be jarring, and Bumblebee is already insecure as he is, he doesn't need his best friend making it worse by treating him as an outsider."

Smokescreen nodded seriously. He wouldn't even think of doing just that, the idea of treating Bumblebee as something alien made him mentally recoil.

Satisfied, Elita nodded, opening the door and stepping into the medibay, Smokescreen following after her. He widened his optics at the sight in front of him.

Bumblebee laid on the medical berth, looking fragile and vulnerable, frame slightly dull as his nanites repaired whatever damage he had. When Smokescreen fully entered the room, Bumblebees faceplate brightened as their optics made contact.

Smokescreen froze, unable to move as he took in the sight of his injured friend. All of the previous doubts, guilt, and blame swirled in his processor, overtaking his thoughts on what should be a happy moment.

Bumblebees smile faded the longer Smokescreen stood in the doorway, not moving, and Smokescreen couldn't take looking at him. Not the way his optics dulled and his doorwings lowered the more Smokescreen stood still.

So, with one last look, he fled, ignoring Elita trying to reach him, ignoring the promises he had just made to said femme. He fled from the now confused and spark broken scout, who watched as his friend ran away from him and unsure of why.

[writingdose]

© _ADWills

[beigewolf]

I love rare pairs. I love crackships. I love ships from different continuities. I love ships from different fandoms. YES give me jazzmax. YES give me spideyhood. YES give me all the unusual ships and i will eat them up like i haven’t eaten in serveral years.

Also IDW!Drift and TFA!Prowl have so much potential but I don’t see them anywhere 💔 is this a sign?

[ao3org]

Errors Accessing AO3

We are investigating reports of errors when trying to load AO3, including errors saying that AO3 is down, which seem to be related to the previous incident. We will update when we have more information!

Posted: 22:36 UTC 02 March, 2026

[beigewolf]

Again 😔

[beigewolf]

Just came to my hour of reading before bed and I find out ao3 is down 😞 hopefully it’ll be up for when I’m awake 🙏

[beigewolf]

It’s back!!!! (And I lied, it’s 1:40 and I still haven’t gone to sleep lol)

[beigewolf]

Nvm it’s being all weird…

[beigewolf]

Just came to my hour of reading before bed and I find out ao3 is down 😞 hopefully it’ll be up for when I’m awake 🙏

[beigewolf]

It’s back!!!! (And I lied, it’s 1:40 and I still haven’t gone to sleep lol)

[beigewolf]

Just came to my hour of reading before bed and I find out ao3 is down 😞 hopefully it’ll be up for when I’m awake 🙏

[beigewolf]

My guilty pleasure is chatfics and I refuse to apologise for that

[beigewolf]

Chapter Four of Reunions of Those Lost out now! Find it on tumblr, ao3, and wattpad!

[beigewolf]

Reunions Of Those Lost

Pairing(s): Smokescreen/Bumblebee, Jazz/Prowl, Optimus Prime/Elita one

Master list found here!

First | Previous | Next

Chapter Four

Smokescreen felt excitement bubble up in his spark, pacing back and forth on his pedes. This cycle was the cycle that he and Bumblebee would have their first mission, with his Carrier of course.

It may only be a simple recon mission, an in-and-out sort of thing, but it was something. Smokescreen had been waiting to go out into the field ever since he had upgraded, and now he was. The fact that he could share the experience with Bumblebee made it all the more special.

When his Sire had told him of the news, Smokescreen was incredibly excited, however he hid it. If he showed he was too eager, Prowl may deem him not ready (as eagerness could lead to distractions/being cocky) so he made himself look calm, which seemed to pass the test.

However, at just breems from the mission itself, Smokescreen couldn't remain calm. Giddiness was shown in the way he bounced and rocked on his pedes whilst walking in his impatience. In the way a smile bloomed on his faceplate, digits clenched in anticipation.

He was busy dreaming about the mission until static from a vocaliser interrupted him. He stopped dead in his tracks, mortified and embarrassed. Slowly, he turned towards the source of the noise, spotting his Carrier stood in the entryway with Bumblebee at his side. Both of their fields reeked of amusement.

"You, er, you excited Smokes?" Jazz asked, an optical ridge raised behind his visor, derma thinned as though to hide his amusement. Beside him, Bumblebee didn't hide, his frame shaking with giggles and laughter, optics wide.

Smokescreen felt rooted to the spot he was stood on, stammering as he tried for a response. In the end, he just smiled, though it came out rather strained, looking more like a grimace.

Jazz shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Hey, no harm being excited, right?" He defended, "and though your Sire may say otherwise, as long as you're focused on the mission I don't mind a little excitement."

Smokescreen vented in relief. He will admit he was embarrassed from how the two caught him, but he was also worried he would be pulled from the mission. Thankfully, his Carrier didn't follow the same mindset as his Sire, so he was still permitted to join.

"Yeah," Bumblebee nodded in agreement, "I'm excited too, I mean I'm pretty sure you can hear the whirring of my spark in my chassis if you listen close enough."

Jazz strained his audio receptors, then nodded, whistling, "if I wasn't sure why I could hear your spark I'd ask you to go see Ratchet," he commented. He then clapped both of his servos together, drawing the attention of the two younglings-turned-adults. "So, we'll do a little debrief then we'll go." Jazz waited until the two nodded, before continuing. "Alright, first off: what mission are we going on?"

"Recon," Smokescreen answered quickly. The fact was engraved in his processor so much from overthinking that he could answer that question in recharge.

Jazz nodded, "what region of Cybertron are we off too?"

This time, it was Bumblebee who answered. "Decepticon territory, not too deep into it for too much fire-power, but enough to gain intel."

Jazz smiled a little, "ah, you remembered exactly what I said," he praised. "Now, if one of us, in the unlikely scenario that it is, gets captured, what do we do?"

"If it's you who gets captured, get to a safe space and call for backup," Smokescreen answered. "Or, if it's one of us captured, get your attention so you can help, if we can't get to a safe space."

Jazz nodded. "Thats right," he agreed, "and under no circumstances are you to tackle the enemy head-on, your warrior training has yet to be completed, and fighting the Deceptions on your own could lead to serious injuries or one of you getting deactivated, and neither are happening on my watch."

Smokescreen and Bumblebee nodded, a little off-putted by the serious tone Jazz spoke in, but understood. The risks of going into the Decepticon territory was always going to be great, and though their mission wasn't with the large bots, like the Elite Trine of the Triple Changers, it was still dangerous.

"Now, I believed Skyfire is waiting for us at the hangar," Jazz commented, gesturing for the other two to follow him when he began walking, "he'll take us to just outside the Decepticons, then wait for us so we can be extracted when needed."

It didn't take long for them to reach the hangar where the flying bots of the Autobots (though few and far between) stayed. Skyfire was stood tall in the centre, his optics lighting up in recognition when he spotted the group.

Jazz walked over to Skyfire to exchange words, likely about the mission, whilst Bumblebee and Smokescreen stayed back.

"You excited?" Bumblebee asked him. He then scrunched up his faceplate, a teasing glint in his optics. "I mean, of course you were, you were practically skipping."

Smokescreen shoved his shoulder lightly at  Bumblebees tease, frowning in mock offence. "C'mon," he said, "I bet you did the same before Carrier found you."

Bumblebee shrugged, smirking, "I will not confirm nor deny," he said.

Smokescreen began to reply, but Jazz's voice cut him off. Their attention went to the older bot.

"We're all set!" Jazz called to them. Skyfire had since transformed into his shuttle mode, the door opened and ready for the three to board.

Bumblebee and Smokescreen made their way across, entering Skyfire at Jazz's request, finding a seat to sit down in. They ended up sat close together, their shoulders brushing. The door closed as Jazz entered and sat across from them, visor glinting as he looked at the two whilst Skyfire began to take off.

"You excited?" Jazz asked them, frame jolting slightly as Skyfire took to the air. "Or nervous? Scared?"

"Definitely excited," Smokescreen said, grinning. His pedes shook the floor, Bumblebee feeling the floor vibrate from next to the white mech, "a little nervous, but it's just first time jitters, right?"

Jazz nodded, "I'd actually be worried if you weren't nervous," he commented, "having no fear of danger is a good way to get you deactivated fast, especially if no fear makes you reckless." He then turned his attention to Bumblebee, "what about you little Bee?"

Bumblebee shrugged, "same as Smokey," he replied, "maybe slightly scared, but I think that's just my nerves telling me something bad is going to happen."

Jazz smiled softly in reassurance at him, "don't worry, I'll be with you both at all times, I'll keep you safe." Jazz looked into both of their optics, showing them how serious he was, "I promise."

Bumblebee nodded, smiling thankfully at the older mech, Smokescreen doing the same. Smokescreen glanced down at Bumblebee, the yellow bot looking up. The two smiled at one another to further quell their worries, finding comfort in each other.

They became silent after that, sat in their own thoughts and emotions. Eventually, Skyfire jolted once more as he began a slow decent. Smokescreen could feel the exact moment they touched ground even without any windows. He felt grounded and no longer felt light despite the fact he wasn't the one flying.

"Looks like we're here," Jazz commented. He stood, watching as Skyfire opened the door. Bumblebee and Smokescreen stood as well, waiting instructions. They followed Jazz outside when he gestured to with his helm.

"Now," Jazz began, catching the attention of the two new mechs, "we'll be travelling in our alt modes along the outskirts, then transform into root mode to sneak our way in." As he finished explaining, Jazz transformed into his vehicle mode. He flashed his headlights, and Smokescreen and Bumblebee followed suit.

They began their quiet but rushed journey to the Decepticons. In his wing mirror, Smokescreen could just make out Skyfires form, the image slowly disappearing under the curve of Cybertrons surface the further away they travelled, until the white speck had vanished.

Smokescreen focused back in front on him, feeling nerves that he kept hidden start to creep up. This is it, what he has been waiting for, and there isn't any turning back now.

Eventually, Jazz slowly to a stop, creating a chain reaction with the two behind him. He slowly transformed into bot mode, making sure he was as quiet as possible to not alert any stray Decepticons. Smokescreen and Bumblebee did the same, Smokescreen thanking himself that he had the forethought to oil his seams to make any movement quiet and seamless.

Jazz crept towards a hidden passage, gesturing for the younger two to follow him. The passageway was rather tight, especially with Smokescreens tall stature, but he managed. He did, however, have a feeling that his back was littered with scratches.

The tunnel ended, and Jazz opened another doorway, this one leading to high above an abandoned street. To Smokescreen, it looked barren, but he was not naive enough to think that the things his optics told him were truthful.

Lo and behold, Jazz quickly pushed them into a crack between two buildings as a jet screamed past, their engines sputtering as it gained speed. The group stayed silent for a moment, until Jazz relaxed his frame, confident the seeker was gone.

"C'mon," he ordered the two quietly, guiding them to a hidden latch in the roof. Jazz undid it, revealing what looked to be vents. "This will lead to the room we're looking for, hopefully there will be enough valuable information in there so we can use it."

He gestured for Smokescreen to go down first, then Bumblebee, then himself. Jazz gave directions to his Creation, guiding them from the back of the line. It was a jumbled mess of directions that Smokescreen could already feel himself forget. Thankfully, they made it to their destination in one piece, and Jazz ordered Smokescreen to exit the vent if all was clear.

Smokescreen took a thorough glance around the room, or at least at the parts he could see. He could see datapads strewn and monitors emitting a dull blue hue. However luck seemed to be on their side, and Smokescreen spotted no sign of Decepticons. Following his Carriers instructions, he lifted up the covering and dropped into the room silently.

Behind him, Bumblebee dropped down, though neither of them held the grace that Jazz did when he followed after them, Smokescreen not even noticing when Jazz had touched the ground.

"Remember, we're here to gather information, recon, yeah?" Jazz grinned. Smokescreen had reason to believe his Carrier had forgotten what 'recon' meant. "If we can find important enough documents here, or just any information, it would be a great help."

Jazz then moved over silently to a pile of datapads. "Smokescreen, you take this pile, I'll take the other," Jazz ordered, then looked to Bumblebee, "Bumblebee, I need you to stand guard, we'll rotate in one breem or less."

With that, they got to work, Jazz and Smokescreen sorting through the datapads, whilst Bumblebee kept watch of the door. They rotated a few times, until Jazz deemed that the information they gathered was satisfactory, and that now it was time to leave.

They all made it safely to the vents, this time Jazz at the front and Bumblebee at the rear, but Jazz ordered them all to stop moving when pedesteps sounded down the hall, getting louder as the Decepticon came closer. Smokescreen had to forcefully silence an audible gasp when Megatron walked in, followed by the silent figure of Soundwave and a few vehicons.

"I hope you have gathered the information I ordered?" Megatron asked, the gleaming red of his optics stared at the vehicon beside him. Smokescreen kind of felt sorry for him with the way he visibly shook.

"Yes, Lord Megatron," the vehicon began. His vocaliser was shaky, as though it took effort to speak. He moved further into the room, shuffling through the datapads, "it should be somewhere across here."

He began to search for the information that Megatron had demanded, but froze suddenly. His helm tilted fearfully up towards Megatron, "the datapad, it's gone."

"Gone?" Megatron rhetorically asked. His sharp optics glanced down at the vehicon, unforgiving, "would you mind repeating what that was?"

The vehicon began stammering his way through an explanation, "I apologise, Lord Megatron, but the file-" he got cut off in a stream of static as Megatron gripped at his neck cables in a strong, demanding hold. The vehicon clawed desperately at the warlords arms. "My l-lord, please!" The vehicon got out through the static.

"I order you to do one thing-!" Megatron began, then stopped. Smokescreen could hear a faint creak behind him. He glanced back at Bumblebee, whose optics brightened with fear. Smokescreen glanced at the metal beneath the yellow bot, spotting as it shook and stretched. Smokescreen opened his intake in a panic, only for the vent to give way beneath Bumblebee and the poor bot dropped to the floor.

Smokescreen went to reach for Bumblebee, but Jazz quickly took his servo in his own, pulling him forcefully away. Smokescreen protested, turning around just in time to see Megatron take Bumblebee by the neck cables, watching as Bumblebee struggled to be free of the painful grip.

The scene was then out of his sight, but he could still hear the horrifying sound of metal screeching and straining, the painful whimpers of Bumblebees vocaliser as his throat was crushed, Megatron demanding answers from Bumblebee that the yellow bot didn't have.

Jazz and Smokescreen soon made it to the exit, when Smokescreen quickly rounded on his Carrier. "I can't believe we just left him!" He accused, pointing a digit at Jazz, "we could've done something!"

"Neither of us were in a position to be of any help to Bumblebee, okay?" Jazz explained, grasping his Creation by the shoulders. "Now, I need you to run, make it back to Skyfire, okay? No playing at hero, leave that up to me."

Smokescreen was silent, but as Jazz's grip became painful in his desperation, he nodded frantically. That seemed to appease his Carrier as he let go. Jazz moved back towards the vent, pushing Smokescreen away. Jazz didn't move deeper into the vent until Smokescreen was out of sight. The bot in question heard Jazz call for Ratchet before disappearing.

However, unlike what Jazz thought, Smokescreen hadn't left the area. He quickly turned back around after ensuring his Carrier was gone, then made his way into the building silently, hoping to find another way other than the vents to get to Bumblebee and Megatron, not wanting to be caught by Jazz and not confident enough that he remembered the directions he was given. Despite what they agreed upon before the mission, Smokescreen wasn't going to leave Bumblebee or Jazz, not while he could do something.

Because the street was practically void of Decepticons, Smokescreen found if relatively easy to sneak into the building. Now, his biggest challenge was navigating the halls and avoid any vehicon or high-ranking Decepticons. After all, who's to say Megatron only brought Soundwave along.

Smokescreen took all of the lessons he took and the moves he learned from Elita and his Carrier, and put them to the test. Hopefully, he remembered enough to live another Cycle. He half-feared the repercussions he would face if he survived this, but then the image of Bumblebee dangling from Megatrons servo, vulnerable and in pain, greeted his processor, and he made up his mind.

He should really be worried by just what he would do for the yellow scout.

Smokescreen was light on his pedes as he moved, ducking into cover whenever he heard or saw movement. He soon made it close to the sounds of Megatrons demanding voice, before a servo took him by the arm and slammed him against the wall.

"Well, well, well," a rough condensing voice spoke. Smokescreen activated his optics from where they fizzled out at the force of the push, to be greeted by a yellow faceplate and purple frame shaped similar to his Sires, "what do we have here?"

"Barricade," Smokescreen mumbled fearfully. His optics darted to a silver and black mech next to the ex-enforcer, but he didn't recognise him.

"Ah, so you know who I am," Barricade smirked, "but he doesn't seem to know you, Sideways," he jabbed at the silver mech.

The mech, Sideways, scowled. "Slagger," he retorted.

Barricade grinned manically at him, then focused his attention back on Smokescreen. He glanced at his frame, then sent him a knowing look. "You're Prowls scraplet, aren't you?" He asked. He didn't wait for Smokescreen to respond before continuing, "sure look a lot like him, and is that hints of Jazz I see?" He asked. "I honestly thought Prowl would have fumbled before either of them got sparked."

Sideways then took a hold of Barricades shoulder, glaring at him. "Stop stalling," he hissed to Barricade, "surely the creation of Optimus Primes commanding officers would be a good bargaining chip, especially to Lord Megatron."

Barricade considered that, then smirked, "yes, I imagine taking you to him would earn us some benefits, yes?"

Sideways reached out to grab Smokescreen by the throat, but before he could an invisible force yanked it back, moving it behind him until a loud 'crack' echoed as the arm was removed from its socket. Sideways opened his mouth to scream in pain, but was silenced when a sharp knife was dug into his spark, and he dropped to the floor, greying.

Barricade moved to hold Smokescreen in front of him, his front to the youngers back. A sharp claw appeared at his neck cables, and Smokescreen stilled from where he had been trying to get free. "One little move-" Barricade began, then a force knocked his head into the wall, sending him into stasis.

Smokescreen was released, but was then grabbed by both of his arms tightly as the air shifted infront of him, a silver and blue bot appearing.

"Mirage-?" Smokescreen began to ask, slightly dazed.

"Just what do you think you are doing?!" Mirage hissed, letting go of one of his arms to place a digit over his chest plates, "Jazz told me you went to Skyfire, and last I check, this isn't a shuttle!"

"I was only trying to-" Smokescreen tried to defend, cowering under the glare Mirage was sending him.

"Get yourself killed?" Mirage asked, "because if I was not here in time, that is precisely what Barricade and Sideways were planning to do to you, then what help would you be?"

Smokescreen wished for the wall to swallow him, but alas not all dreams could come true. "I only wanted to help Carrier save Bumblebee," he defended, "after all, he's alone."

"That is why he sent out a distress signal, and why I am here," Mirage explained, frowning. "I told them that neither you nor Bumblebee were ready for a mission, that they couldn't trust you, and look at you proving my point."

"They can trust me!" Smokescreen protested.

"Until you can properly follow orders, no, no they cannot," Mirage hissed. "Now, what you are going to do is go back to Skyfire, whilst I help Jazz save Bumblebee, and you better follow my orders because I cannot help your Carrier if all I am doing is worrying for your safety, got it?!"

Smokescreen nodded fearfully, venting in relief when Mirage let him go.

"Good," Mirage said, "now leave before more of Megatrons goons arrive." With that, he disappeared and headed off into the direction of the warlord in question.

This time, instead of denying orders, Smokescreen made his way back to Skyfire, moving through the hidden doors until he could transform and drive the rest of the way there. He soon spotted Skyfire in shuttle mode, door open and ready for Smokescreen to enter. He does so silently, finding a seat and refusing to answer any of the questions Skyfire asked of him.

Eventually, Smokescreen heard the pedesteps of two bots, getting closer. Skyfire turned on his engine, getting prepared to fly off. Mirage soon boarded, sending a glare Smokescreens way, Jazz following whilst holding an unconscious Bumblebee in his arms.

The yellow bot did not look good. His plating was scratched, covered in dents. In fact the majority of it was black or silver, hardly any yellow was shown. Blue energon coated his frame, but it was more prominent on Bumblebees neck cables. Wires around his throat were cut, leaking fresh energon uncontrollably.

Jazz spared Smokescreen not a single glance as he placed Bumblebee down to begin temporary repairs, nor did he react when Skyfire lifted off into the air.

Smokescreen watched worriedly as Bumblebees neck was put together by hastily thrown together welds and bandages. He wanted to ask if he was alright, but he couldn't bring himself to face his Carrier.

Eventually, Jazz stopped his ministrations on Bumblebee, stepping back with energon-coated servos. Mirage took over watch of Bumblebees vitals, whilst Jazz turned to Smokescreen with a stern glare.

"What you did could have cost Bumblebee his life if Mirage had not interfered," Jazz began. He raised a servo as Smokescreen opened his intake to protest. "No, I'm not arguing with you, I gave you one simple order and you could not even do that," he sat across from Smokescreen, besides Bumblebee and Mirage, "we are going to have a talk with your Sire when we return."

And Smokescreen, between the worry for Bumblebee and the fear of what was to come, knew that he had just made one of the biggest mistakes of his functioning.

[beigewolf]

Chapter Four of Transformers Animated and Brave Police J-Decker Watch Transformers (2007) is out now! Find it on ao3 or wattpad!

[beigewolf]

Okay so I’ve updated some of Stormflows past from this post which I will explain below (as well as the whole trines designs).

Okay, so this is Stormflow, the youngest of the three sisters. She, at first, is slightly naive and incredibly energetic. Her sisters describe her as being the ‘sunshine creation’ because of her personality. However, after her sisters are killed, she becomes more reserved and closed off, more cold. The ice of her personality begins to thaw when she meets Echo on Earth.

Fun fact: she experiences transitioning from a youngling to an adult alone on a ship drifting in space! Extra fun fact: when Skymist was impaled, Stormflow dragged her to a cave to attempt to heal her, but Skymist was killed just seconds after her injury was caused! Stormflow lost both her sisters seconds between the other!

Up next is Cloudstar, the middle child. She is similar to Stormflow in personality, always trying to keep her sisters feeling happy. Even when knowing she would die, she attempted to raise her sister’s spirits. However, she can sometimes be seen as reckless, always acting first instead of thinking.

Fun fact: Cloudstar is actually incredibly afraid of dying, so when faced with death (she stepped on a mine), although she had a smile on her face she was terrified. Extra fun fact: Skymist figured out a solution to save her, only for Autobots to shoot Cloudstar, knocking her off balance causing the mine to explode! (an explosion which killed her sister)

And finally, Skymist, the eldest of the three. She is incredibly protective of her younger siblings, especially when the war broke out. She doesn’t like fighting, and so she advocated that she and her trine remain as recon/last resorts/long distance fighting only. Thankfully, since many seekers joined the Decepticons to follow Starscream, Megatron granted that wish. She is level-headed, some may call her cold, but to her siblings she is always warm and kind.

Fun fact: she was killed by a shard of Cloudstars frame in her chassis, causing her to bleed out. She died thinking Stormflow was going to be killed, or dying beside her. Extra fun fact: she wasn’t going to join the war, she only did it because Cloudstar idolised the Elita Trine. Her love for her sisters was the one thing to kill her!

Their Creators are unknown, at least to Stormflow. After Stormflow was born, their Sire lost all of their shanix on gambling. Now in poverty, their Creators abandoned them on the streets, finding them extra mouths to feed that they couldn’t afford.

Skymist is the only on of the three to remember their Creators, and refused to talk about them to her sisters. In fact, on day she saw their Creators in a nice house and new Creations. That was the first day that Skymist was seen crying in front of her sisters. She eventually relented and told Cloudstar and Stormflow about their Creators, but she hid the fact of a new family from them, instead making up a story to hide the truth.

In terms of height, Cloudstar is the tallest, then Skymist, then Stormflow. In fact, Stormflow should have been taller than Skymist, but the rations war brought stunted her growth. She became even shorter when choosing a civilian jet alt mode rather than a fighter jet.

Although Stormflow eventually finds a lover in Echo, Skymist and Cloudstar never found love. Skymist refused to take on a partner, insisting that taking care of her sisters was all that she needed. Cloudstar liked having partners, but none that she would bond with. She was afraid of commitment with anyone other than her sisters/trine, and that only worsened when the war started and she became paranoid.

Now, for the backstory that is getting changed. Key changes:

Skymist and Cloudstar do not die on Earth, instead, they are killed on Cybertron by Autobots.

Stormflow attacked Megatron out of fury after he showed indifference to her trines death, causing her to flee after he retaliated. She remained on the run, until she found an old abandoned ship from a neutral colony and stole it, the ship taking her to Earth where she met Echo. She didn’t leave willingly, even though she wanted to.

Stormflow spent many years on Earth before the Autobots and Decepticons landed on the planet. In that time, she proclaimed herself a neutral and became sparkmates (not sparkbonded) with Echo.

Stormflow didn’t make the necklace with Skymists and Cloudstars armour, instead human friends of Echo did as a way to introduce her to their family.

These backstories work for my Kin Au (set in Transformers Prime) and could theoretically work in my Triple Agent Au (set in the Bayverse).

A little fun fact as well, Stormflow refused to become fighter jets like the other seekers out of loyalty to her sisters and her hatred to the Decepticons. This is because most of the seekers on Cybertron turned to the Decepticons, as well as for the fact many of the seekers (who should theoretically understand her pain) shunned her after her trine was killed instead of comforting her.

Because of this ⬆️ Stormflow refuses to call herself a seeker, ashamed at what her kind had been changed into post-war. Instead, she just calls herself a ‘jet’ or ‘plane-former’, and even then she grimaces. She once admitted to Echo that she was envious of her being a flying Predacon, having the freedom of flight without having the restrictions set upon her by being a (former) seeker.

[beigewolf]

Question: I know most of my fics include carrier Jazz, but I’ve been getting into carrier Prowl lately so for my triple agent au I’m unsure which one to use lol.

Just curious what the overall preference is??

Which do you prefer????? (I’m curious lol)

sire!Prowl/carrier!Jazz

sire!Jazz/carrier!Prowl

Voting ended onJan 23

[beigewolf]

Interesting, thought it’d be more even tbh

[beigewolf]

Hello!

Just a quick introduction! I have started an ao3 and Wattpad account (under the same handle) and decided to do the same here!

My works on ao3 are set so only someone with a user can read them. I apologise, but I feel more comfortable this way!

You can check out my current works here!

On this blog I will take requests, asks, or just about anything!

I may also write things related to my fanfics, such as incorrect quotes, small snippets, or scenes that I never included!

I will not write smut or anything problematic (nor will I write problematic or illegal ships!).

The fandoms I will write for include:

Transformers

Teen Wolf

DC (mainly batfam and all of their respective teams)

Stranger Things

9-1-1

Supernatural

Squid Game

Alice in Borderland

The Black Phone

The Maze Runner

Shadowhunters / TMI

Once Upon A Time

Harry Potter

I am also currently writing some of my works on ao3 and wattpad, here’s a list of them!

Triple Agent (ao3, wattpad or #triple agent au on tumblr (or go to my tumblr master list!))

The Puppy Pack (ao3, wattpad, or #the puppy pack au on tumblr!)

You can also find my OC’s by searching for #beigewolf oc’s on tumblr!

I am a multi-shipper, so I will write just about anything! (Except for those that I have already said).

I will tag my fav ships, a little way you can get to know me!

[starsnotsquares]

I see you ship JayKyle and Jayroy. I give you the superior option: JayRoyKyle.

[beigewolf]

Ooooh not thought about this 👀 I mean they’ve all got two hands soooo 🤷‍♀️ I’m listening…

Also I haven’t read a comic where these two interact, where abouts are these panels from???

(and recommendations possibly👉👈)

[starsnotsquares]

I think the panels are GL v3 #59 and #128. If you want to read more Kyle, GL v3 is pretty much totally his book after Emerald Twilight, and he’s a major character in Grant Morrison’s 90s JLA run. You can also get to know Connor Hawke, Kyle’s best friend and another Arrowfam member through both series, though his role is smaller. He’s a great character, and the more you read of him, the more he grows on you.

Unfortunately the actual on panel interaction for RoyKyle is limited, like with JayKyle, but Roy was leading the Titans during Kyle’s time with them, and they canonically have hung out as Titans more than the bits and pieces we get.

If you want specific, shorter recommendations, the essential Kyle list is: Emerald Twilight (GL v3 #48-55, #0 [Don’t ask about the numbering change, long story]) GL v3 #56[tw:suicide], #57 then New Titans #116-117, where Roy and Kyle first meet. This is collected in a trade, and a second collects much of the rest of Kyle’s adventures with the Titans, and if you’re up for it, I suggest reading all of them. If you live in the US, it’s likely that your local library uses the online library platform Hoopla, where you can read ebook versions of most trades. If not, read GL v3 58-59, Guy Gardner: Warrior #27-28, GL #60-64 and New Titans #124, GL #65, Darkstars #34, Damage #16, and New Titans #125.

Here, you can really start to bounce around. He meets Wally in GL #66-67, then again in GL/Flash: Faster Friends (this is a two parter that flips the title around halfway through). #71-73 is the Hero Quest miniseries, which I recommend. #76 starts off a great GL/GA miniseries where he meets Connor Hawke that hops to between series. Wally, Connor and Kyle team up starting at #96 and dipping into each of their series. I can’t remember where the GL/Silver Surfer crossover with Marvel fits on the timeline, but that’s good. #100-106 is fantastic, even if it focuses more on half than Kyle. GL: Circle of Fire (tw: threat of suicide) is a must read, and so is the Power of Ion arc from #140-150, to be read after Circle of Fire if possible.

Unfortunately, I haven’t read much Green Arrow or Teen Titans, so I can’t recommend you more on Roy. Hope this helps.

[beigewolf]

No you’ve helped loads this is more than I was expecting, thank you so much!!!

Been wanting to get more into Kyle but there’s just so many comics that I didn’t know where to start y’know? So this is a huge help! 😊 you’re an absolute star 🫶

Guess I best start reading then huh? :)

[beigewolf]

Reunions Of Those Lost

Pairing(s): Bumblebee/Smokescreen, Jazz/Prowl, Optimus Prime/Elita-One

Master list found here!

First | Previous | Next

Chapter Three:

"The Decepticons have grown bolder in their attempts at attack recently," Optimus Prime stated, stood at the head of the table in the meeting room. Beside him stood Prowl, holding a data pad in his arms and scrolling through it.

"You can say that again," Ironhide snorted, leaning back in his chair. Although his tone didn't betray it, he was sat stiffly in his seat, as though expecting a fight that may never come. "Gotten more lethal in their attempts to cull us too, me and Chromia nearly got killed, the dirty cheatin' slaggers."

Prowl glanced at him for the language, but otherwise didn't comment. He seemed more stiff than usual, his frame locked up and optics focused on his data pad, as though he was elsewhere other than the room.

"Whilst the Decepticons have always been brutal, it seems Megatron has become desperate in his actions," Optimus concluded. His voice was firm, his optics staring resolutely at the occupants at the table. "With the destruction of various neutral settlements amongst Cybertron, it seems he has indeed sent a message that no bot is safe on this planet."

"Killin' Sparklings, didn't think he could stoop any lower OP," Jazz, who recently just came back from a long mission, said, shaking his helm in disbelief. "I mean, destroyin' settlements is one thing, but destroyin’ an entire city because they refused to join the war is a whole other level of insanity."

Prowls doorwings shot upwards at the mention of the destroyed city, the destruction of Praxus, his home, still present in his processor. Jazz, after noticing this, stroked the enforcers side in apology from where he was sat beside him, causing Prowl to relax some.

"This is why, with great regret, that I must suggest the use of all of our available Autobots for the foreseeable future," Optimus revealed. He then looked to Jazz and Elita respectively, Prowl lowering his helm, "all of them."

"What?!" Elita cries in outrage. She hits the table with a servo. Beside her, Chromia flinches ever so slightly, looking at the other femme in sorrow. "You can't mean..."

"Bumblebee and Smokescreen?" Optimus finished for his bonded, "yes."

"Prowl?" Jazz looked to his Conjunx, seeing the resigned look on his faceplate, "you agree?"

Prowl gave a sad smile, so very subtle that only those who knew him would spot it. Otherwise, he looked a neutral. "We need all of the fighters we can gather," he explained, "Smokescreen is set to upgrade to his adult frame next Deca-Cycle, Bumblebee three Stella-Cycles after, they will be, by all purposes, grown mechs."

"Optimus, they aren't ready," Elita protested, "they have yet to complete their training!"

"Which is why they won't be out in the field until Bumblebee has upgraded, leaving more than enough time for their training to be concluded," Optimus explained. His tone softened, "I know this is difficult since they are our Creations," he paused, looking to Jazz and Prowl, "but this is inevitable, and I think we all knew that."

Jazz and Elita looked down, unable to argue anymore. What Optimus spoke of was the truth, ever since the younglings began training, their fate had been sealed.

Seeing the Carriers reluctant approval, Optimus concluded the meeting. The bots left with a sorrow-filled field, Chromia stopping briefly to comfort Elita, Blaster doing the same for Jazz. Prowl and Optimus felt no joy in what they had suggested, but the sake of Cybertron, no younglings could be coddled.

Not even their own.

"So," Bumblebee began, "have you thought of some designs for your adult frame? Any colour changes?"

"Not really," Smokescreen replied, "I mean, I want to keep my white colouring to match my creators, and maybe some racing decor to match Carrier, but otherwise I think I'd want it similar to how I look now, you?"

Bumblebee pondered the question from where he was sat on Smokescreens berth. The two younglings were sat facing one another, datapads placed hazardously on the surface. They were supposed to be studying, but the two got distracted, something which was turning out to be a regular occurrence.

"I think I'd want some black undertones," Bumblebee eventually decided, "I mean I like my full yellow, but I'd like some variation."

"That'd look good on you," Smokescreen said, smiling. It had been many vorns since the two met, and Smokescreen was still proud of how far the yellow bot had come. When he arrived, Bee had been almost mute, but now some even considered him more talkative than Smokescreen himself, and that was a hard feat to earn.

"Thanks!" Bumblebee beamed, a faint blue hue appearing on his faceplates, "though I must say blue suits you."

Smokescreens optics widened, then he moved his servos to cover his faceplate in embarrassment, doorwings drooping slightly. "Don't remind me," Smokescreen whined.

Bumblebee laughed, moving to take Smokescreens servos away from his faceplates. "It was pretty funny, but I'm not joking, Sunstreaker managed to choose a colour that suited you, be thankful you didn't get doused in neon green paint." The yellow bot quickly realised they were still holding servos, and dropped Smokescreens.

Smokescreen cleared his vocaliser, a static erupting from it before replying, "maybe I'll have a colour change in the future then, won't hurt to try it, right?" He grinned at Bumblebee.

"Right," Bumblebee smiled back. He then clicked his glossa, looking at the datapads strewn all around them. "I think we'd best do these before Carrier has our helms again."

Smokescreen shivered, "don't remind me of that, I've never been so afraid of her before."

"Well it got us to listen, right?" Bumblebee said, before his attention moved to the datapad infront of him, moving to hold it. In his focused state, he didn't notice Smokescreen sending a smile in his direction, before focusing on his own 'pad.

It was the Cycle of Smokescreens upgrades. Bumblebee had yet to see Smokescreen, the white youngling-soon-mech busy getting ambushed by his Creators. Bumblebee doesn't blame them, after all if all goes right, Smokescreen will be taller than both Jazz and Prowl. He imagines that will be hard on them.

Well, not him personally. Smokescreen getting his upgrades has made Elita and Optimus coddle Bumblebee slightly whenever they saw him. Bumblebee didn't understand it at first, but after a talk with Elita, he let them turn their attention to him whenever they wanted. He just didn't know whether to dread or look forward to his own upgrading.

Not seeing Smokescreen, however, left Bumblebee with little to do. Although Elita and Optimus liked to keep him close this Cycle, they still had confidential reports to fill in, ones that even he, their Creation, was not privy to.

A youngling getting his upgrades to an adult frame was something personal as well. Only close family, and that was immediate members, like Creators (some groups didn't even allow siblings to be near during upgrading). Bumblebee couldn't even look at Smokescreen during it, never mind visiting him.

So, with nothing else to do, he vented and gathered all the datapads he had left to complete, figuring that though incredibly boring, it was far better than sitting idly. However, he soon got distracted once more.

Although Smokescreen had told Bumblebee of the basics of his frame (colour, size), that still left most of the design up to Bumblebees imagination. And imagine he did.

Before he knew it, a frame was already in Bumblebees processor. He imagined Smokescreen would keep his doorwings, but his frame type would be similar to Jazz's rather than Prowls, after all Smokescreen was more a racer than enforcer.

He thought of Smokescreen having both Jazz's sensor horns and Prowls chevron, but then thought about Smokescreen saying as much as he wanted to have both, his Creators talked him out of it, saying the double-sensors would give him a constant helm-ache. Instead Bumblebee dismissed the image and thought of Smokescreen having just a chevron instead.

"No," he muttered to himself, shaking his helm to rid of the thoughts, "it's not fair imagining Smokescreen to what I want, it's his frame and I should be happy with whatever he chose." So, after dismissing his thoughts, he got back to work.

Or, he would have, if a knock didn't sound on the door of his quarters. He froze, wondering who would be knocking. Optimus and Elita were busing in their own offices, and they had the code to enter, so it wasn't likely them. Nobody else came to mind, unless...

Quickly throwing the datapad, Bumblebee lept up from where he was sat and practically ran to the door. He opened it and had to look up at the bot who knocked.

Bumblebee was, quite frankly, shocked. He knew Smokescreen was going to be tall, but this tall? He never imagined. He was taller than his Creators, no doubt.

Bumblebee let his optics stray across the new frame, noticing blue racing decal across Smokescreens chest plate, and that the older bot kept the white and red colour scheme like he said he would. He still had doorwings, which were wiggling in amusement. A red chevron adorned his fore helm, below it bright blue optics stared into Bumblebees amused.

"You going to let me in, 'Bee?" Smokescreen asked. Scrambling to get a hold of himself, Bumblebee hurriedly stepped aside and walked further into the room. He heard the door close behind him.

"So," Smokescreen began, suddenly looking slightly unsure as the two stood in silence, "what do you think?"

"You're..." Bumblebee started, having to go through all the words scrambling his processor just to reply, "...tall."

"Really?" Smokescreen raised an optical ridge in amusement, "I hadn’t noticed."

Bumblebee punched Smokescreen on his arm playfully, no longer being able to reach his shoulder, "shut up," he pouted, "it'll just take time for me to get used to, well, all of you."

"I hope you know that I'm still Smokescreen, y'know?" Smokescreen said, "I mean, I'm not going to just abandon you, I'm still the same, right?"

Bumblebee smiled softly, "of course!" He reassured, "and the same goes for me when I upgrade, okay?"

"Okay," Smokescreen agreed, venting in relief. As long as he still had Bumblebee, he would be okay.

A few Stella-Cycles later, Bumblebee was going through the motions of his own upgrades. Unlike before, however, Smokescreen wasn't bored or getting smothered by his Creators, instead he was being pampered for his ceremony where he would become an official Autobot, Jazz and Prowl busy finalising the arrangements.

Smokescreen was looking forward to the ceremony. Although he and Bee hadn't fully completed their training to become warriors, they could at least be granted with the titles of scouts and be proclaimed adult mechs in the Law of the Prime (to put it professionally).

Alas, there was still much preparation to do, and Bumblebee was still getting his upgrades. Smokescreen was getting impatient to see Bumblebees new form, but the bots doing his ceremonial decal distracted him.

"Could you stay still?!" Sunstreaker, one of the bots the Prime had entrusted to make Smokescreens plating (Bumblebees was already done pre-framing) look neat and professional, growled in annoyance. "Primus," he muttered to himself, quickly fixing up whatever mistake he had done by Smokescreens movement.

Sideswipe was lounging on a chair in the corner, watching the whole ordeal in amusement. Ever since Smokescreen upgraded, and even just before then, the twins had seemed to have gotten over their 'too-old-for-younglings' stage and began talking to him again, including Bumblebee.

At first, Smokescreen was hesitant to forgive the two, after all he wasn't some waste material to get thrown aside when no longer needed. However, his Carrier convinced him otherwise, saying it was just their programming getting messed up as they grew and that Smokescreen will, eventually, go through the same thing (though this time his ire won't have anyone to point at, what with no younglings being created since). That and the twins constant nagging, mostly Sideswipes.

"If you're not going to be helpful you can leave," Sunstreaker said, annoyed with his twins snickering in his audials. He seemed to be in a mood, and Smokescreen dared say anything, having an inkling that he was the reason for that same mood.

"And what else would I do?" Sideswipe asked, placing both servos behind his helm in a relaxed position. "All of the bots I would hang out with are busy, and Prowl, or Elita, actually, would have my helm if I messed anything up with my pranks."

"Yeah, Sire has planned out the whole ordeal to the tiniest detail," Smokescreen drawled, faint amusement in his field, "I think if something were to go wrong he'd blow a fuse."

Sideswipe grinned wickedly as Sunstreaker moved on to another part of Smokescreens plating to paint. "Now that's something I'd lay my shanix down to see," he said.

"And that's something Carrier would deactivated you for," Smokescreen retorted, grinning. His frame moved as he turned to look at Sideswipe, earning a sharp smack to his side by Sunstreaker. He winced, quickly saying a quiet apology.

Eventually, Smokescreens decal was done, and he was permitted to see the finished product. Excited, but also slightly weary, he turned to the mirror and was shocked at how nicely Sunstreaker has cleaned him up.

No longer were there scruff marks on his plating from training, or faded areas from when he was in the sun for too long. Instead, his lines were neat and his colours were bright, the white so strong it stung his optics slightly. He also had blue painted ceremonial glyphs on his frame, the largest ones the glyphs for 'grown' and 'scout'.

Sideswipe whistled, "you did good, Sunny," he complimented.

"Don't call me Sunny," Sunstreaker snapped, almost instinctively. "And of course I did," he said slightly arrogantly.

A knock sounded from the door, surprising Smokescreen. Jazz, his Carrier opened it when given the all clear. He looked at Smokescreen, then shot him a grin.

"You look good, Smokey," Jazz complimented, a teasing glint in his optics, "I can't remember the last time I've seen you this cleaned up, since you were a little sparkling."

"Carrier!" Smokescreen hissed in embarrassment, making Jazz laugh.

"Anyway," Jazz said, composing himself, "the ceremony's soon, little Bee is ready and just having finishing touches to his frame, so I've come to collect you."

Smokescreen checked his chronometer and realised that yes, it was indeed time for his and Bumblebees ceremony. He supposed time did go fast when you're having fun, though what that 'fun' was in this situation he wasn't sure.

After making sure he was ready to go by Sunstreaker, Smokescreen made his way to Jazz to make their way to the hall. The twins would join them later, Sunstreaker just needing to clean off the paint he had on his servos.

The walk to the hall was silent, up until Jazz broke it. "I know we don't tell you this as often as we should, but me and your Sire are so proud of you, Smokescreen," he praised, "I mean, you're getting the official title of a scout today, and soon warrior if the plan goes right, makes me wonder where all the times gone."

Smokescreens wings lifted slightly at the high praise, the lowered as Jazz's vocaliser and field became entwined with the sadness Jazz was feeling. Smokescreen stopped to pull his now shorter Carrier into a hug.

"I'm still that younger Smokescreen, just taller," Smokescreen reassured, "I'm still your 'little bitty'."

Jazz let go of the hug, raising both servos to cup Smokescreens faceplates between them, "Primus, you used to really hate when I called you that," he chuckled. "And I know, I just never thought I'd see the Cycle my own Creation would surpass me in height."

Smokescreen was going to reply, but sharp pedesteps interrupted him. He turned his helm in the direction of the noise, spotting his Sire coming towards them both.

"You were meant to be at the hall four breems ago, Smokescreen," Prowl scolded. He then noticed the faint twinge of sadness in both of their fields and narrowed his optics in suspicion, "what is wrong?"

"Nothing!" Jazz replied, moving to nuzzle the side of Prowls helm in reassurance, "just getting a little nostalgic is all."

"Hm," Prowl hummed in suspicion, but let the matter go, kissing his Conjunx quickly and entwining their servos. "I will let it drop for now, but come, Optimus is getting restless."

He then guided Jazz and Smokescreen to the hall, the small family huddling close together. "Smokescreen," Prowl pierced the silence, "for the record," he began when the mech in question focused on him, "I am proud of you, incredibly so."

"Thank you, Sire," Smokescreen replied, gratefully and emotionally. Prowl did say things like that, but they were rare and few between. He knew Prowl was always sincere in his words, so it just made them more meaningful.

Prowl smiled back at him softly in response, field wrapping with his own in familial love, Jazz's joining not long after.

They soon made it to the hall, where Smokescreen was guided to sit on a chair at the front. He couldn't yet see Bumblebee, his frame hidden by Optimus's bulky one, but he would when they both stood to earn their scout title.

Rung, a small and lanky therapist, stood at the front. He was holding a datapad in his hand, smiling out at the crowed, which only included Smokescreen and Bumblebees closest allies and friends.

Rung began his speech, gesturing for both Bumblebee and Smokescreen to stand. The two newly upgraded mechs did so, and Smokescreen took his first look at his friend.

Bumblebee kept his yellow, but it wasn't as bright. Instead it had an odd orange tinge to it, rather than the golden light it had before. Black stripes and decal went across his frame, some ceremonial and some painted permanently. He noticed Bumblebees eyes were the same, still wide-eyed and curious. And, he noted with glee, the yellow mech was still shorter than himself.

Bumblebee seemed to notice Smokescreens look, and he glared slightly at the older bot. Smokescreen just grinned back at him, unapologetic.

The ceremony was quick, Rung saying a few more words before Optimus granted them with adulthood and the title of scout. The two were overjoyed, and the bots closest to them quickly made sure to congratulate them on their achievements.

All too soon, it was officially over, and both of Smokescreen and Bumblebees Creators left them alone to talk.

"So," Smokescreen said, grinning mischievously once more, "you're still smaller than me."

"Hey!" Bumblebee protested, punching Smokescreen in the shoulder, "it's not my fault I'm part mini bot."

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," Smokescreen defended, raising both his servos, "it's kinda cute, actually."

"Don't mess with me," Bumblebee grumbled. He then changed the subject, "you're taller than both of your creators, where's your height coming from?"

"Form my grand-creators, maybe?" Smokescreen suggested, shrugging, "I haven't really thought about it, but I haven't met them so I can't confirm nor deny."

"Hey," Bumblebee said, changing the subject, "you think they'll let us go on missions now?"

"I hope so, 'Bee," Smokescreen said, feeling excitement rising in his cabling, "I really hope so."