#|| status update

[alacritysparked]

"You'd think I wouldn't have flare-ups and yet, here we are. Anyone have a spare heating pad?"

[alacritysparked]

"There's good days and bad days. There's days where I look at Cybertron's growing skyline and think wow, I can't believe I made it. And then there's days where I can't help but wonder...if I stayed dead and Optimus lived, would things be better?"

[alacritysparked]

"I recharged terribly, if anyone's wondering."

Grumpily taking out his to-do list, Bee gets to work for the day.

[alacritysparked]

"Ok internet, how do I be Not Responsible for stuff and also not feel guilty about not doing said responsible stuff?"

[alacritysparked]

He feels restless. The lack of impending emergencies and newly restored buildings, the actual beginnings of a functioning city state with all the common pre-war amenities, the ability to have energon whenever he wanted it…

It’s overwhelming. It feels wrong. A smaller, quieter part of him insists that success only comes with sacrifice. He hasn’t truly hurt in a while, though the odd fillings dotting his forehelm say otherwise. But he hasn’t used his Warrior title at all. Most Cybertronians return peacefully. Those who don’t are dealt with before Bumblebee even knows there’s a problem.

…It didn’t used to be that way.

Was he not good enough? Did he let the team down in some way? What else did they expect from him, from a starved runt not chosen by Primus but trying to step up and respect the last Prime’s wishes?

With a huff, he decides to get up and drive. A good adrenaline rush will help him stop thinking.

[alacritysparked]

“WHY DID YOU ALL LET ME SLEEP HOURS PAST MY ALARM I HAVE THINGS TO DO?!?!”

[alacritysparked]

“…Huh. This is the most well-rested I’ve felt in a while.”