I made this joke a while ago in the Discord. Mortimer's not really attached to any specific kind of animal like the other Veldigun are, and I wondered if you could mold his hair to look like cat ears.
surprised myself with the ability of drawing things between surviving two fever breaks and i said to myself, half conscious "i want to retire" and started sobbing a little
anyway! here is one of my fav oc ever! i wish i was ... it...
an insert fic where an overachieving and antisocial introvert becomes mikaela banes. definitely not projecting cough. i wrote this sometime during The Great 5-Month Writer’s Block to get motivated to write the fics I wanted to write (Don’t say you’d rather walk).
written in father’s perspective (but in third person), and then mikaela’s POV /first person.
EDIT// sorry! forgot to add READ MORE. oh my god
By Greyscales (AO3 name, link in blog description)
Warnings: vague mentions of dysfunctional home life (one line), mentions of emotional abuse (also one line). will be marked with asterisk (*).
~=*=~
Age 4-6, neutral/father perspective
From a very young age, it was apparent that Mikaela Banes was smart. Her father, the only parent in the picture since her mother was unfit to raise her, may have never finished high school but he wasn’t dumb. He knew that his young daughter could achieve so much more than either he or her mother ever had… if only he could make enough money to keep the little girl happy and healthy. Perhaps he was lucky in a way; Mikaela never wanted toys, clothes, or things he always imagined little girls would want. His daughter, his kind but oh-so-strange daughter, wanted broken junk, books, and food. He ends up smiling while watching her fiddle with her latest haul from the scrap heap, despite how odd a picture it makes. She didn’t always succeed in her ‘hobby’ as she would call it, but whenever she managed to turn what he thought was trash into something usable he would celebrate her successes with her. The smile on his daughter’s face was infectious.
As for himself, Mikaela’s father was a jaded man. *His own parents hadn’t been kind to him, and he’d dropped out of high school in his sophomore year to instead work wherever he could in hopes of being able to move out. He’d swore to himself that he’d never be like his parents, and every time his daughter smiled at him a part of his chest clenched tightly and reminded him of that promise. Despite that, things were hard for him. He owned an auto shop that he could barely afford to keep running. To make ends meet he would sometimes resort to less than legal means to make money. His daughter had a baby sitter for these times, of course.
That is, until one day he found his daughter, at only 4 years old, cooking lunch at the stove. In a panic, he’d removed her from it, scolding her for going near it… but she’d looked quite stubborn that time, and later on he found her doing it again, and then again until the distressed father finally understood that she could feed herself if for whatever reason he couldn’t make her lunch or dinner. It was crazy, he knew, and he knew very well that he probably shouldn’t be trusting his 4-year-old near the stove or knives. Being equally stubborn, he’d promised himself to never give her the chance to use her newfound culinary skills. He tried to be firm.
However, one day his usual babysitters weren’t available, and he had to make money soon or he wouldn’t be able to keep his auto shop open any longer. On that day he was forced to make a decision and by doing so break a promise he’d made. He brought Mikaela to the kitchen and put a hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the fridge.
“Mik, there’s some leftovers in this container here. Do you know how to use the microwave?”
“Yup!” She smiled at him not knowing what he was about to do, “Open container, put in microwave, beep boop time, and ding! Done!”
“You’re so smart,” He said with a ruffle to her hair even as he felt his heart clench, “Daddy’s gotta go make some money, so I’m going out for a few hours. When you get hungry…” He paused to swallow, and with it hopefully all the guilt inside him would go back down, “Put it in for a minute, then if it’s still not warm enough, put it back in for just 30 seconds more. Okay?”
Her answer was a simple, “Okay,” and he looked at her worriedly.
“Do you think you can remember that sweetheart?” He asked.
“Yup.”
He took more time telling her what not to do when home alone, like never answer the door or phone, but after a fierce hug he had to pull away finally to do what needed to be done.
After that time—though he always, always preferred having a babysitter—it no longer completely terrified him to have his daughter alone at home. The people he helped do illegal activities with never came to understand that he had a daughter, and he almost preferred it that way.
It was at 6 years old that his daughter told him about a boy she’d become friends with at school.
Sam Witwacky or something. The name didn’t matter. He’d lie if he said he wasn’t concerned about his daughter attracting the attention of boys, but he also knew his daughter well enough now that he could stay calm at this revelation. She was already so much smarter for her age, and a part of him worried she would grow up too fast, but his daughter was an odd one that always thought practically about things she wanted. If she became friends with this boy, it either meant she could gain something for this relationship… or Sam was genuinely a good kid she didn’t mind being friends with. And anyway, she’d never really talked about friends with him before, so any friend at this point was a good thing for her development socially.
It surprised him how easily he got over the fact that Sam was a boy. He even met the boy along with his parents. They were an honest and good family, the kind that he wished for himself. He and the Witwicky parents grew to have a pleasant relationship over the next year, especially he and Ron who could bond over their love of cars. He not only gained a new customer in his shop, but also an honest friend he could talk with. It wasn’t only cars, either. They would often gripe about the eccentricities of their kids, for better or worse.
It became apparent to the Witwicky family that despite her lacking social skills, Mikaela was a good influence on Sam. Conversely, the young girl’s father noticed that Sam was a good influence on her, and the friendship was encouraged. Sam’s teacher started leaving positive notes on his work, remarking his improved reading ability. Mikaela became much more talkative with not only her father but others as well, and spent time actually playing instead of solely on her ‘hobbies’. It was a relief to the father who always worried that she would never learn to relax and have fun or connect to others her age.
Things weren’t easy in this time, but he managed. Mikaela was happy, fed, and becoming a little more normal.
~=*=~
Age 7-14, Mikaela’s POV.
I knew from the movie that Sam had known about Mikaela since forever ago, but as the years passed a lot of the knowledge of the future kinda faded into a murky mess that barely helped. I knew the basics of what I should prepare myself for, but I didn’t have much to go on. So I focused on the things I knew I could affect. Who knows when Sam would pop up? Instead of sitting around twiddling my thumbs, I instead decided to learn myself some new skills, primarily skills related to cars and technology. It just made sense, and besides, Mikaela was supposed to know a thing or two about cars. Knowing more about technology too would be a bonus that could come in handy!
It started with simple circuits when I was a tot, which then advanced to simple electronics, and then computers. It was annoying having to slog through the books about them, but it was rewarding to have the devices come to life and then find a place somewhere in my home. Car stuff took more physical effort since my father was a little resistant to me being in the workshop, but persistence paid off in the end. At age 7 I had a basic understanding of how a car worked, and a bunch of little things about maintaining a vehicle. I also knew how to fix most simple technological devices and was working on fixing a phone so that I could, hopefully, have a means to contact people.
It was honestly a relief to just goof off and be a kid again when I finally encountered Sam in grade 1. Sure, I was a girl on a mission, but Sam was just a kid, and treating him like the teen I knew from my memories wouldn’t work out well. My dad seemed a bit wary of my friendship with Sam, at least at first, but a carefully planned encounter with Sam and his parents soon eased that wariness into acceptance. Ha. Mikaela 1, Dad 0..
It also gave me an excuse to leave the house, which I must admit I needed. In my previous life I had been fine to be left alone in one place for long periods of time, as I always had the means to entertain myself, but… I was also Mikaela, a smart girl who couldn’t stay in one place and craved attention/affection. She needed friends.
Since I was dead set on keeping an eye on Sam anyway, becoming his friend just made sense.
Time passed slowly, and I found myself relaxing compared to the intense learning schedule I’d set for myself in the time Before-Sam (aka BS). Sam’s family was more well-off than my own, so after we’d become close enough friends, we spent more time at his house than mine. Trying to encourage him to learn more about technology like myself, I tried showing him a thing or two, but he never really seemed as interested as I was. He did seem interested in my dad’s workshop the few times I showed him. He developed almost the same level of knowledge I did through sheer force of will and a doting father obsessed with cars.
Perhaps I should’ve been spending more time learning about cars if my level of knowledge is close to that of a grade-schooler…
Anyway, by the time we graduated middle school we were thick as thieves and fairly smart if our grades were anything to go by. Dad started asking the Witwicky family to watch me instead of going the babysitter route, which was okay with Sam’s parents with a few stipulations. One was that I would do homework with Sam first, and the second was that we call beforehand. This was obviously A-OK with me.
~=*=~
Mikaela’s father gets caught, Mikaela’s POV
I knew what my father did outside of the auto shop. I knew he stole cars. However, I was never brought along to these illegal escapades in this timeline, due to me demonstrating I was unusually capable and independent since a young age. Using that as my excuse, I pushed that forbidden knowledge to the edge of awareness and continued doing as I always did.
I wasn’t prepared for when my dad was caught. I was 15, not old enough to be living on my own quite yet.
I knew better than to lie to the cops. If I was caught, I’d probably end up with a record. I didn’t know what to do to help my dad or I escape trouble, but I knew I had the right to remain silent, and so I did. They tried cajoling me, lying to me, and bribing me. I didn’t say a word. I felt bad when the Witwicky family was eventually questioned. I knew some kind of bonding had happened between our fathers, and that friendship was being strained as the investigation continued. I can only imagine how Sam’s dad felt knowing the father of his son’s friend was being investigated for car theft.
I looked it up at the library. An investigation can last years. But I had to remain resilient, no matter how much I’m questioned about my father’s activities.
My father was eventually convicted despite my silence, and with that my world was shaken. I was sent to live with my aunt, who didn’t want me but didn’t turn me away. It was my only choice if I wanted to remain in Tranquility. *It wasn’t nice being treated like a burden, but I endured.
What hurt was when the honest and good Witwickys turned me away when I tried to visit Sam, using excuses such as ‘family outing’ or ‘he is busy’ to remain polite. It would take months for them to realize I had nothing to do with the car thefts. That realization, I would learn later, came when Sam sat them down to seriously talk about me and why he thought I was innocent in this. I was touched, still hurt, but touched.
~=*=~
Start of the movie
Since Sam and I were best friends by the time I was 17, I wasn’t sure if the events of the movie would happen the same. Turns out it would literally just come out of nowhere. I just came over one day to find Bumblebee chilling in the driveway and dropped everything I was holding.
“How the heck, Sam?” I gaped at him.
He puffed his chest out and leaned against his newly acquired Autobot, probably trying to look cool. I just scoffed at him good-naturedly. He said, “Nice, right? That’s 4000 dollars right there.”
“Yeah… I’m going to need to check this out first. Don’t you dare drive off before then.” I stripped to my tank top underneath my loose T-shirt and bent over to grab the stuff I dropped. When my eyes rose, I noticed him staring. I gave him a reproachful look as I passed him to set my stuff by the garage door. He straightened and I rolled my eyes. He’d been eyeing me up a lot lately, and it was honestly making me uncomfortable. He was like a brother to me, and I didn’t see him the same way he saw me. I just wasn’t sure how to broach the topic yet. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I also couldn’t let it continue obviously.
After failing to lift the hood the first time, I coaxed it open with a sweet “C’mon baby, I’ll be gentle,” and took a good hard look at the engine. Sam hovered by, somewhat familiar with the inner workings of a vehicle but a bit rusty. He tried flexing on that knowledge, to which I responded by pushing him away with a smile. “Let me work, Sam.”
Bumblebee’s engine was fine. Super fine. If I was an autophile I’d probably be drooling. I tweaked a few things that seemed off to me and closed the hood. I then went to check other things including tire pressure, and finally came to the conclusion that it was fine to ‘drive’, though a bit dirty. We both ended up cleaning Bumblebee. I went to do the insides with a host of clean cloths.
Closing the door, I smiled at the dashboard, not sure where to aim my voice if I wanted to address the Autobot. “Sam doesn’t know you’re alive, does he.”
The radio flicked on but turned off immediately as if hoping I wouldn’t notice. I huffed a laugh, “Aha! Nope. I saw that.” After a moment of silence, I picked through my words and ended up saying, “It’s alright that you are. Just… keep him safe, alright? He’s like family to me.”
“Don’t worry, darlin’.”
~=*=~
Despite my words, I ended up soapy, drenched, and angrily chasing Sam across his father’s precious grass.
After changing into one of Sam’s clean shirts, we went for a drive, just to enjoy ourselves and the sweet ride he’d managed to get. I asked if I could drive, and reluctantly Sam parted with the steering wheel to let me drive. Partway through my turn driving, we noticed a police car following us. It was not especially hard considering there was barely anybody on the streets at this time. I glanced at the speedometer. “Huh. We’re going the legal limit.”
“They’re probably going the same way we are. Don’t worry,” Sam reasoned.
I frowned but tried to dismiss my paranoia. I took a few turns until we were heading back the way we came. The car behind us took the same turns too.
“Sam…” My voice sounded very worried. After that bit with the police and my dad, I didn’t feel comfortable around authority.
“Okay, yeah, that’s a bit weird,” Sam admitted, “Why don’t you pull over and we can switch seats? It’ll be quick.”
I turned the wheel gently into the side of the road and with a bit of trouble we switched places. Sam’s barely put his hands on the wheel when the car we were in suddenly bolted forward.
“That wasn’t me!” Sam yelled frantically.
“I know!”
Sam glanced at me quickly then back at the road, yelling, “What do you mean you know?!”
“I’ll explain later!” I yelled back.
We didn’t know where Bumblebee was taking us, but I knew that anywhere the ‘police car’ wasn’t, was probably a better place. The only trick was getting Sam to calm down and listen to a frankly crazy story.
“No, no, no, no, I’m too young for jail! I can’t turn the wheel!”
My best friend was using all his strength to pull the car to the side of the road. I put a hand firmly on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam… Sam! Stop fighting it, it’ll make it worse!”
“What are you even talking about?”
“Sam… I have a crazy story to tell you, but now’s not the time. That car behind us? They’re dressed up to look like a police car, but they aren’t. For one,” I turned in my seat to look behind us at the police car, looking for something before continuing, “you can barely tell, but the driver is flickering like an old TV. That ain’t normal.”
Sam also set his eyes on the rear-view mirror and squinted. Good on my word, the driver’s whole being flickered just long enough to be noticeable.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered loudly.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
Eventually it seemed we were done running from the car behind us, and we were forcefully thrown out of the Autobot. When the two cars both transformed into metal titans, I knew that now was the time to start running. I heaved myself onto my feet and dragged Sam with me.
“What… what did you mean earlier, about… a crazy story?” Sam huffed.
“Still… not the… time!” I responded, focusing on running. “Oh my god.. we’re being followed by a minicon!”
Sam didn’t know what a minicon was, but my audible alarm was enough to get him to look, only to notice Frenzy loping toward us. “Nooo… this isn’t happening… What do they want from us?!”
