( Someone sleepwalks silently into the office. He can’t quite manage the climb to the desk though. )

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

With a quiet chuckle, Megatron helps the offline bot up onto the desk, watching him curl up on the blanket. Quite a feat, sleepwalking all that way, or even at all… There would be some affectionate ribbing upon his waking up the next morning, but for now Bee’s frame is covered with another fold of the blanket.

(And one finger. Bee opens a bleary optic to find that finger and clings to it tight. Moving it only makes Bee wake up enough to re-establish his grip.) 

Megatron tries to remove it a few times, but Bumblebee is especially determined when unconscious. No matter. His chair is perfectly comfortable enough to recharge in.

( Someone sleepwalks silently into the office. He can’t quite manage the climb to the desk though. )

With a quiet chuckle, Megatron helps the offline bot up onto the desk, watching him curl up on the blanket. Quite a feat, sleepwalking all that way, or even at all… There would be some affectionate ribbing upon his waking up the next morning, but for now Bee’s frame is covered with another fold of the blanket.

:: I’ve heard whispers of political unrest on your end, Neutrals maybe? You…you can’t let that happen, not with the vengeful ones. They hate us all, Autobots and Decepticons. Smokescreen’s in your universe, I can’t– what can I do to help? ::

This kind of camaraderie from Bumblebee is baffling even if it’s purely for Smokescreen’s sake, but he’ll take it.

::I have little doubt that if Livewire has his way, all mechs who took part in the war, no matter which side, will be put under scrutiny at the least. At worst, we would be exiled. They could do it. Though we are more heavily armed, the neutrals outnumber us by a great margin. More are arriving every day.::

::We must prove that everyone’s interests are being minded, not just the Decepticons. Rather, I must prove that I have not been acting selfishly.::

::I can hear you laughing.::

::Hey, Megs? Can I talk to you about something in private?::

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

::Of course. Meet me on the landing deck.:: He was sick of being cooped up in his room. Some questionably fresh air may do him some good.

Smokescreen is not good at this. Megatron squints.

“You could have asked me that over comlink, and even then it wouldn’t have to be private. Yes, we can spar, but not if it’s a pretense for larger matters.”

Dangit, Megatron.

“Well- yeah, it’s just… I’d like to spar if you’re up for it, but- Look, Bumblebee has been mentioning something a lot lately, and I don’t know how to tell him that it wouldn’t work, but- you can agree that I’m not exactly leader material, right?”

After a pause, Megatron laughs loudly. He shakes his helm.

“Of course you’re not! No one is, not even the Primes! Look at how flawed they were, fighting each other, scattering and leaving little guidance. Haha I was a miner, a poet and a gladiator! What part of that qualifies me to be a leader? Orion Pax was a data clerk.”

“What material we’re made from doesn’t matter. It is a process. The moment you believe you know everything you need to be a leader is the moment you are no longer qualified. Do I think that you have the experience necessary? Not at all. Neither did I. Do you make idiotic mistakes? Absolutely, but so have I.”

“If there were a reformed council, I would want you on it.”

::Hey, Megs? Can I talk to you about something in private?::

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

::Of course. Meet me on the landing deck.:: He was sick of being cooped up in his room. Some questionably fresh air may do him some good.

Smokescreen’s pretty quick to arrive, running over towards Megatron. He’s starting to have second thoughts about asking what he was thinking of, though. Maybe he can just- come up with something else and hope Megatron doesn’t see right through him.

“Hey Megs- you wanna maybe spar? I haven’t had a good chance to practice swordfighting in a while, and was wondering if you’d be up for it.”

Smokescreen is not good at this. Megatron squints.

“You could have asked me that over comlink, and even then it wouldn’t have to be private. Yes, we can spar, but not if it’s a pretense for larger matters.”

Attrition looks rather nervous as he knocks, standing stiff and straight waiting for a response. Bee had assured him this mech was different and he wanted to give him a chance, especially since Rung loved him.

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

There had been an unregistered ground bridge opened on the ship, but the signal’s origin was familiar. He took a moment to tidy his office, wiping a few errant smudges from his armor. Rung seemed as if he would hardly mind if he wasn’t immaculate, but Megatron couldn’t help the impulse. It was a strange sensation, but not unwelcome.

Opening the door, the warlord raised an optic ridge at a nervous mech much larger than the one he’d been expecting. The bartender, former Decepticon… Perhaps the holidays had warmed him back up to seeing his former lord without outright cowering.

“Attrition? I can’t recall arranging a meeting with you, but I do have some time. Come.” The warlord turned, arms folded behind his back as he walked back into his quarters. The primary room was large, consisting mainly of a desk and a few shelves, decorated with blankets and other various gifts. Colored rocks, drawings, antique datpads. Leaning against the wall was the Dark Star Saber, glowing gently in the low light. The door closed both of them inside.

“Were you sent here, or do you come of your own free will?”

The tank was rather stiff, standing in typical military readiness from habit. He was doing his best not to avert his gaze, but the items in the room pulled at his curiosity like a sparkling with something particularly shiny. The Dark Star Saber in particular made him want to stop and touch the edge but he couldn’t very well do that, especially when he was dropping in uninvited.

“I’m here on my own Sir. Well Rung had suggested that I talk to you again, but he didn’t order me to. I just thought.. well you’re very important to two of the mecha in my life so uh…” A little awkwardly, he took out a bottle of Tetrahexian high grade. “I thought we could talk? We don’t really know each other and I’d rather avoid any more assumptions, Sir.”

Megatron was glad he’d decided to lock the empty Matrix away. Before now, it had laid on his desk as well.

“Really, now?” The warlord turned to face Attrition again, regarding him with his usual analytic eye. Remembering that this often came across as a glare, Megatron made the conscious effort to ease the tense set of his shoulders. The effort was made simpler with the promise of high grade, relaxing him enough to lean back against the edge of his desk, and extend a servo to offer the tank his chair.

“Very well. Assumptions or not, I understand your misgivings. My reputation does tend to precede me.” Reaching back the top drawer of his desk, Megatron retrieved a pair of rough-hewn glasses for them. “Let me begin then by saying that the war is over. I wouldn’t intend on bringing you in for desertion even if you were of this universe.”

Attrition looks rather nervous as he knocks, standing stiff and straight waiting for a response. Bee had assured him this mech was different and he wanted to give him a chance, especially since Rung loved him.

There had been an unregistered ground bridge opened on the ship, but the signal’s origin was familiar. He took a moment to tidy his office, wiping a few errant smudges from his armor. Rung seemed as if he would hardly mind if he wasn’t immaculate, but Megatron couldn’t help the impulse. It was a strange sensation, but not unwelcome.

Opening the door, the warlord raised an optic ridge at a nervous mech much larger than the one he’d been expecting. The bartender, former Decepticon… Perhaps the holidays had warmed him back up to seeing his former lord without outright cowering.

“Attrition? I can’t recall arranging a meeting with you, but I do have some time. Come.” The warlord turned, arms folded behind his back as he walked back into his quarters. The primary room was large, consisting mainly of a desk and a few shelves, decorated with blankets and other various gifts. Colored rocks, drawings, antique datpads. Leaning against the wall was the Dark Star Saber, glowing gently in the low light. The door closed both of them inside.

“Were you sent here, or do you come of your own free will?”

Shakespearean Aesthetic

MACBETH:

the howl of wolves. moonless nights. dirt under fingernails. stained silk.  chattering teeth. voices hoarse and cracked. rotting fruit. echoing drums. dry heaving. hanging cobwebs. stifling humidity. bloodshot eyes. the roughness of rusted steel. wild rosebushes. muscle cramps. the sound of splintering wood.

A  MIDSUMMER  NIGHT’S  DREAM:
crackling fires. ivy crawling on stone. the faint music of running water. petrichor. dirty, bare feet. tattered clothing. thistledown. wilted wildflower crowns. late evening birdsong. curling leaves. a symphony of croaking frogs. drifting feathers. the eerie sound of windchimes at night. humming bees. beds of clover.

ROMEO   AND  JULIET:
warm golden lamplight. worn shoes. crumbling brick walls. whispered poetry. embroidered satin. cool, hazy mornings. tousled hair. rosewater. flushed cheeks. distant orchestras. unfinished marble statues. cobblestone streets. loose threads. ink smudged on parchment. tapping fingers. dust illuminated by sunlight. poison vials.

HARRIET:
shattered glass. a cluster of fraying ribbons. unanswered knocks on doors. lingering dampness. white noise. inexplicable drafts. migraines. bleeding ears. the taste of metal. reflected mirrors. dry, cracked lips. the sound of tearing paper. fogged windows. memories of dreams. tarnished silver. protruding veins.

RULES: REPOST,  DON’T  REBLOG. bold what applies to your muse.

TAGGED BY: @chiaroscuros-void

TAGGING: @heligooddeals @big-shoes-to-fill @willnotgogently @the-scrappy-stinger @thesoundlessvoid @ask-smokescreen @radioactivibee @alpha113n-redshirt-eradicon and anyone who wants to!

::Megs- did you see that broadcast? It’s kinda amazing how wrong one bot can be, right?::

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

It takes a moment for any response to form.

::You can’t tell me that you disagree with him, Smokescreen.::

::I guess so- but why would he run unopposed? You aren’t gonna try to sway the bots of Cybertron to show that you are a good leader? If they knew about what you had been doing during that time period- or if we could get the allspark back, I bet at least some of that support would flip.::

::I’m surprised to hear such advice, coming from you.::