It is almost like people like you, Ratchet. 

Time to quietly smooch the medic on the cheek. He might have had a crush once.

I believe, it is as the humans say... Yolo.

send REFLECT for me to explain a traumatic event in my muses’s past and talk about their perception of events,  which parts have stayed with them longest and how it affects them now.  (  sender can request specific scenes/backstory  )

Being eaten alive by Unicron. No matter what, it's something he won't talk about.

He blames himself entirely; after all, he willfully mutilated himself to be free of Optimus' grip, choosing to plummet into chaos' bowels for the sake of peace - farewell Optimus Prime, victory is all yours; now go look after your men, they need you.

— The arm of his throne buckles audibly beneath his grip. Megatron winces at the memory, biting back the sickness threatening to rise from his tanks and into his throat.

The thing about Unicron was that he didn't just eat planets. He fed off of hatred; there were no other options to stop the destroyer-god other than sacrificing himself or he and Optimus setting aside their differences and liking one another.

He'd demanded it of Optimus, for the Autobot to confess the truth. But, he'd suffered for his inability in the end, entombed in Unicron's guts, calcified to a wall, his body slowing rotting into stasis, his spark ultimately consumed.

How he had screamed.

After he stole his spark back, after he returned, he was worse than ever, never to be the same. Ultimately, Unicron paid for what he did to him, and exists inside of him now.

He isn't without triggers; there are certain smells, sounds, textures, places, but he hides them well.

◐ : My muse and animals. (If they like animals and treat them well, do not care for them at all, e.t.c.). 

He'd probably be surrounded by a few pets and animals if he hadn't chosen the nomadic lifestyle. He likes them, even prefers the company of critters over his own kin. Meme has an affinity towards more exotic animals, like reptiles. Birds of prey are his favourite too, being an aerial.

Perhaps the more bizarre creature he likes spending time with would be the Cybertronian equivalent of horses. He has no explanation why he likes something that can get spooked by its own shadow, buck you off and leave you behind in dust. He simply likes them.

Slightly tilted blue optics regard the thinner femme, a datapad cradled gently in slim digits. The scientist isn't unused to the comment, or the sentiment that usually proceeds it. A faint red sheen is reflected back due to his plating, turning the white and aquas into pink and indigos as he stands backlit from the console.

A faint, almost wry smile turns the corners of full lips upwards.

"Seems to be a familiar sentiment, these days-" he drawls softly. "And how are you doing?"

     ✾    ─    ❝ Actions speak louder than words to me. I don’t expect anyone to trust me, either. ❞ Small smile as a piece of friendly offering. She knows what kind of a pain in the aft she can be, no matter faction, even her closest team mates have been subject to her behaviour. But medics and scientists, excluding Ratchet, would be special targets of her suspicions, and those especially with certain background.

Catch him trying to gently catch the small buzzing mech.

It doesn't take much to catch him- his smaller size makes him not quite as fast as he might be otherwise.

Groaning, he drops his head back, looking up at Perceptor.