#dc comics#batman#dc#batfam#bruce wayne#dick grayson#batfamily#tim drake#dc fanart
seen from Argentina
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seen from Argentina
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seen from United States
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Optimus woke with a snort, vents sending dust flying into the air. Half lidded optics blinking confusedly, he lifted his head off his paws. Well. That was an unexpected ... stasis? Hibernation?
Whatever it was, it was long. With a yawn, Optimus lazily stretched, claws flexing as he spread his paws.
Optimus planted himself in front of a fan, armor lax and vents opened to the fullest. It was too hot today.
Optimus flipped onto his back. Then squirmed. And only when he was half on the floor did he huff, a disgruntled sound coming from his parted jaws. There was so many things to do and he could not muster the energy nor desire to do them.
“This... Area 51. Do you suppose it may be safeguarding Cybertronian technology that we were not told about?” Optimus’ query was met with a mixture of childish snorts and a huff from Ratchet. He canted his head curiously. “If it does this assault may be troubling.” And Miko almost hit her head with her outburst that time.
Staying up with the children was interesting. Despite Raf’s obvious yawns and Miko’s frantic chugging of energy drinks - against Ratchet’s recommendations, mind you, the three of them had forced themselves to stay awake for this “ball drop.” Jack’s excited yell for the others drew Optimus from his post, and he padded over, inclining his head at the TV. As a timer ticked down in the corner of the screen, the trio of humans began to get more and more excited, and as the one changed to a zero, they erupted in shrieks of excitement. “Happy New Year guys!” Miko howled, accidentally flinging a can of soda across the silo; Arcee barely evaded getting splattered with the contents.
“Happy New Year,” he smiled amidst their exultant hollering.
“Don’t touch it.” Optimus glanced at Ratchet, feigning disinterest until the medic turned away. Then his jaw opened and his glossa began to probe the empty space left where a fang once was. “I said don’t touch!”
Optimus puttered about, murmuring “Cake or death” in the most absurd accent he could manage. No one knows why. No one wants to ask why.
Limbs subtly shaking, Optimus sat down, vents quietly working overtime as his head dropped forward. Only to have to wrench his optics open as someone called his name. With a stifled groan, Optimus forced himself back to his pedes.
