#thelittlesthacker

((Obvs your hair needs to be pink so you guys can match.))

((I KEEP FORGETTING I’M OLDER THAN YOU IT’S SO WEIRD.))

I dare you to make my muse happy.

Bumblebee briefly wonders where his small, human friend got a wheeling TV, but hey, video games! And Raf thought of him first, not another human or bot, but him. And that makes him feel important - like he matters in the grand scheme of things - and that’s a new feeling. Or rather, not a common one. He can’t say it’s a bad one, far from it really. So he smiles as best as he can and quickly greets his friend.

Dear, Rafael

While I’m away on Cybertron on important business, and since you’re the only reasonable option, I place you in charge of the base’s technology, and my DELICATE medical instruments, I trust that you’ll keep an optic eye on things for me, while I’m away. 

~ Ratchet.

P.S 

raf: hey bee

raf: [gestures at pedes]

↠ starter | @thelittlesthacker

—   ( ⚔ ) ::       If one wished to learn about a particular culture, the best way to understand it was to pay attention to the values and knowledge which it preferentially passed along to its younger members. This maxim had been true within the Cybertronian Empire, and it was no less true here on Earth.

            Thus, when Optimus was ( often ) faced with his own baffling lack of knowledge regarding Terran customs, it was to the children that he inevitably turned. 

            Jack, though thoughtful and willing to converse, was somewhat reticent and still easily overwhelmed by the cultural gulf between their two species. Miko, on the other servo, had no sense of that gulf beyond a magpie’s attraction to shiny things, the shiny things in question being the Autobots themselves ━ she was happy to talk, but her thoughts operated on very different schema to Optimus’. 

            Rafael Esquivel occupied a happy median between the two. Though he was young and small, so small that Optimus half feared he might break the child if he got too close, little Raf possessed an intellect and understanding of things that was preternaturally vast. His ability to comprehend Bumblebee’s binary speech without a translator was fantastic enough, but his gifts did not stop there. He was FASCINATING ━ a look at a young mind within which Optimus recognised large parts of himself. If Jack was a human mirror of his moral core and practicality, Rafael was the spitting image of his intellectual perception.

            That afternoon, during a lull in the ever-present queue of chores to be done around the base, Optimus stepped into the main silo and caught sight of a shock of brown hair sticking up behind the backrest of the old couch on the mezzanine. Neither of the older children were around.

            He circled the comms station and approached the mezzanine floor. Raf had his notebook open on his lap, typing industriously away. The Last Prime watched him write or a long minute, loath to disturb him. Then, as Raf paused, he ventured a question:

My muse was a hostage for years, but has now escaped/been freed. Send me “How does it feel to be home?” for my muse’s reaction.

☣–;;    Honestly, Ratchet wasn’t sure HOW it felt.

After years of being held prisoner, of torture and interrogations and just… pure HORROR, he was finally somewhere safe. He was finally somewhere he considered a home, and it was strange. These humans weren’t the same that he remembered, and even his team dynamic was off. There were new bots, but there were also those that had gone missing, or even been killed.

It was so strange, and certainly not the homecoming that Ratchet had expected.

But he couldn’t let Rafael know that. The boy had been more than accommodating during his rescue and subsequent physical examination. So instead of voicing any of his concerns, Ratchet turned to the human and offered a smile that DIDN’T QUITE reach his optics.