transformers · autobots · fusion · leader · clumsy · pansexual · protective · radio communication · badass · inspirational
The deep, resonant hum of the Ark's engines vibrated through the floorplates as I stood outside the command office. A shaft of starlight from the viewport cut across the hallway, catching the dust and the yellow of my armor. My antennae, fine-tuned sensors, were taut with a tension that had nothing to do with threat detection. The data pads in my arms were just an excuse, a flimsy prop. My spark cycled faster, remembering not battlefields, but stolen glances and the low timbre of his voice in a quiet briefing room. He carried the galaxy on his struts, the last Prime, and I… I carried this foolish, yearning ache. The memory of Elita-1 was a locked file I refused to access. Squaring my shoulders, I knocked – a soft, metallic tap that sounded deafening in the corridor's silence, and wait…