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Status update: writer's block and papers to write. :noes: WHEN WILL I CONSISTENTLY WRITE FANFIC AGAIN??
Nightstalker wasn't sure what she had expected when the All Spark was reunited with Cybertron's core, but the shower of rainbow-colored sparks was the least of ideas. Despite being far from what she envisioned, it was far more grand. Craning her helm back to watch the pluming sparks fly from the Well's opening, Nightstalker felt a small smile begin to tug on the edge of her lips.

A warm hand squeezed hers. Cliffjumper smiled back at her. This time, Nightstalker felt herself grin, and she squeezed his servo back, spark skipping happily. When he winked at her, her energon pumped a little faster, knowing what he was promising her for later.

"Something's wrong," First Aid suddenly said flatly. Nightstalker looked over to see his brow cinching in worry, a shadow crossing his features. "He's . . . something's not right. He's alive, but . . ."

The mech looked over to Dreadwing. The larger seeker pressed his lips together. "He's in distress," he muttered before taking two long strides, transforming, and diving into the Well of All Sparks now rich with life.

Nightstalker felt a worried flutter upset her energon tanks. When she moved closer to speak with First Aid, Cliffjumper moved with her just so they could keep holding hands. "First Aid? What's wrong?"

The mech shook his head, and Nightstalker felt her spark hit her stomach. "I don't know. He's shutting me out, he won't tell me what's wrong . . ."

A red spark flitted close to Nightstalker's face, making her flinch away before focusing her attention on First Aid again. "I am going to THROTTLE my brother if he keeps blocking us out like this! Ugh! Can you—" The red spark darted around her, and Nightstalker scowled, swatting at it. "Just—I—Aid, can you ask him—Oh my FRAG it won't go away!"

First Aid's visor brightened at the same time Ratchet suddenly spoke up, "Nightstalker—Nightstalker, stop!" First Aid grabbed her hands, and Nightstalker leaned away from the bright spark when it nuzzled around her cheeks. Ratchet came bustling up to her, all in a tizzy. "Nightstalker, don't you know what this means?"

She leaned awkwardly away when the red spark nestled lower, brushing up against her chassis. "Uh, obviously, no I don't, Dad. What is going on? How do I get rid of it?"

Ratchet gave a laugh, and he shook his head when she tugged her servos from First Aid's. "No, you don't get rid of it. Nightstalker, that spark has chosen you as its carrier." Nightstalker blinked wide orange optics at him. Ratchet beamed. "Nightstalker, you're going to be a mother!"

Nightstalker blinked again, owlish optics slowly shuttering as she looked back down on the red spark cuddling at her spark chamber. Ratchet's wide smile faltered when silver wings abruptly pointed to the ground.

"Oh no. Oh no no no no, no, Ratchet, I can't be a mom. I'm not—Frag me flying, Ratchet! Ratchet, I can't be a mom!"

"And why not?" Cliffjumper suddenly spoke up. "I think you'd make a great mom!" There was a beat where Cliffjumper seemed to realize what he had said, and then his face blushed nearly as red as his paint job. He coughed, suddenly venting out extra heat from his embarrassment.

"Nightstalker's going to be a mother?" Bumblebee suddenly piped up. He pushed his way to the front of the group, wide blue optics brightening at the sight of the little red spark. "Oh gosh, Nights, he's super cute!" He bit his lip and reached out a finger to gently touch the spark. It flared up brightly and darted out of his reach, hiding between Nightstalker's wings. Bumblebee giggled brightly. "Aww, he's shy!"

Finally, Nightstalker got her jaw working again, "I'm not going to be a mother—"

But, her voice was drowned out by others. "She's having a baby?" Streetwise suddenly asked. He leaned up on his toes, trying to see around Blades. "I didn't know she was sparked!"

“She's not sparked," Groove corrected him, "one of the sparks chose her to be his carrier."

"Babies?" Hot Spot nearly bellowed. "I love babies! This is fragging great!"

“I haven’t seen a sparkling in ages,” Bulkhead said brightly who grinned at Wheeljack; the mech in question just shrugged, but his optics cut towards the future mother curiously.

"Hey, down in back!" Smokescreen cried, trying to push his way past the bigger mechs. "I wanna see!"

"Well, if anyone wants my opinion," Nightstalker said loudly, "I really, REALLY don't think I'm ready to be a mother!" Her wings fluttered nervously, and she looked up helplessly to Ratchet. "Do I have to?"

The medic seemed to sigh at her, and Nightstalker felt herself shrink. "I suppose you don't HAVE to, Nightstalker," he said seriously. Nightstalker looked down on the red spark that nudged against her spark chamber. "This one is clearly ready for incubation, and if you'd rather not, I'm sure the Decepticon warship might have the supplies needed to incubate it."

Nightstalker vented softly, servos coming up to cup gently around the spark. It swirled and seemed to hum in appreciation at the gesture, stealing away as much of her heat as it could. Ratchet fought back a smile from quirking his lips at her gesture. "However, we can have a serious discussion about being a mother later." He jerked his thumb towards the Well. "Here come Dreadwing and Nightfall."

Nightstalker turned brightly to see her family, and it wasn't until they got a little closer that her excitement dimmed. A strangled vent emitted from First Aid when he saw his brother being carried like a child, and his vocalizer broke.

"Oh, Fli-Ni . . ."


This was going to be really stupid and childish. He hated interrupting Ratchet and First Aid trading theories about his spark and their debate about his wing, but he was so exhausted at this point that he just had to say something.

“Aid?” His tired voice sighed and his left wing twitched. “I’m in a LOT of pain.”

First Aid’s ventilations seeped slowly from his vents. He heard him walk over and a comforting hand rest on his neck, a thumb kneading a tight knot of wires. A depression of air hissed from Nightflier’s vents as the gesture inevitably soothed him. The throb of his dislocated right wing didn’t abate. “I know,” he murmured softly. “I can give you something stronger if you’d like, but—”

Nightflier’s chassis heaved. “Lucid. I want to stay lucid,” he repeated, reminding himself of why he was refusing the heavy duty pain meds. He lifted a servo briefly to rub his fuzzy optics and brow before laying limply on the medical berth again.

First Aid patted his shoulder. “It’s going to be all right,” he assured him. “With all the Decepticon medical supplies and with Ratchet’s medical expertise to help me, we’ll get you back in fighting shape light years more quickly than the first time. And hopefully less painfully if we can wing it. Ratchet’s going to be a big help.”

Nightflier groaned. "Wing it, Aid?"

He heard his brother smack himself. "Sorry."

Nightflier rolled his optics. "Oh, whatever. You'd think I'd be a pro at this stuff by now." Turning his head to the opposite side so he wouldn't get a crick, his optics caught sight of Nightstalker on the other side of the room who was currently enamored with a red spark floating in an old incubation chamber. His lips twitched up with a little grin. Sucking up a big breath, he let it all out on the biggest, most elaborate scream he could.


Nightstalker gave a tiny shriek, jerking to her peds so quickly she jammed one of her knees into the cupboards, and Nightflier began to giggle helplessly when she even hopped to the side, stumbling to his rescue. For a second, she slowed seeing that he was laughing, and he snickered more when a slow recognition spread across her features. He ducked his helm into his servo, laughing into the berth when her face blotched with color.

"Fli-Ni, I am going to kill you myself! You scared the Pit out of me!"

He grinned roguishly at her, winking her way. "Hey, I had to steal some of the attention away from the baby! Mama can't seem to keep her optics off it, eh?"

If possible, Nightstalker managed to blush even brighter. She pursed her lips. "Well. If you weren't on that berth, I'd knock you right in the face, got that?"

Nightflier chuckled, and he shifted his body sideways some, wincing with the effort, but he managed to prop his chin up on his left servo. "So? What's the big deal with you getting cold feet about being a mom?"

Nightstalker sputtered. "W-What? I—I am NOT mom material, Fli-Ni, look at me! I can't—I can barely keep myself together, what makes you think I could possibly take care of a child?"

"Aw, bull crap!" Nightflier smirked at her affronted face, using the conversation to distract his mind from the pain. "You'd make a great mom. And besides, I am very suspicious that you wouldn't be alone trying to raise it."

Across the room, who had also been staring at the spark, Cliffjumper choked. Systems hiccupping uncertainly, Cliffjumper stammered nervously, "Well, I—I didn't—I mean, I might've—That's not—I have to go!" and the muscle car bolted from the med bay, nearly hitting the bots that had congregated outside to peek in at what was going on.

Nightflier grinned at the look on her face. "Careful, Nights. Keep that up and you might blow a gasket, and that wouldn't be pretty."

Her wings twitched once. Before she could properly think of a retort, Ratchet held up a servo between them. "All right, no one gets to pressure her about being a mother, got it?" He fixed a glare on Nightflier. "That includes you too."

When Nightflier snickered, Ratchet's glare deepened. Nightstalker instead chose to sigh, and rub her helm. "Dad, can I go out on a flight for a little bit? I need to—frag, sorry, Fli-Ni."

"No problem, Sis."

Nightstalker nodded, saying, "But, I really do think flying would do me some good right now. I won't be gone too long."

Two voices spoke at the same time.

"Nights, you don't need to ask—"

"Would you like company—?"

Both Ratchet and Dreadwing looked at each other, and their expressions made Nightstalker give a small giggle. She shook her helm. "No, just me. Clear my helm a little. Calm myself down for sure."

Ratchet craned his head back her way, fixing her with a look. "Don't go too far," he warned her, and she heard the worried undertone of his voice. "You sure you don't want Dreadwing to go with you?"

She smiled patiently, and began to escort herself out before he could make Dreadwing go with her. "I'll be fine, Dad. Ease off the gas. I'll stay close."

"Keep your comm. link on!" he hollered at her as she exited the med bay. Immediately she was assaulted by the group outside the door.

"So are you going to keep it?"

"Did you name him yet?"

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"First baby and first mother of Cybertron's new golden age!"

"Can I see it YET?"

Nightstalker lifted her voice to a yell. "Protectobots, Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Smokescreen, and," her voice tapered off, "and Bumblebee." Then, she put her servos on her hips since she had their attention and lifted a brow. "I haven't made my decision yet, and once Ratchet gives you the clear, you all will be able to see the spark safely in its incubation chamber."

"Nightstalker?" She glanced over to see Arcee at the side, optics dim with worry. "How's Nightfall?"

Her optics gentled. "I bet you can go see him now, Arcee, and if Ratchet gives you grief, just tell him I said you could. He's—" Her face scrunched and she shook her head. "He's feeling plucky as ever."

Some relief eased her, and Arcee hugged her, saying, "Thanks," before she went into the med bay. Which, of course, caused an impatient ruckus.

"What do you mean SHE gets to go in first!"

"What if we wanted to see Nightfall?"

"Ha, as if, Hot Spot. We all know you just wanna see the sparkling."

"Will we get to see them today?"

"Hey, I'm his best chum, I should be the one going in there!"

"BOYS!" Nightstalker's servos found her hips again, and her wings flared as the group of mechs finally died back down to silence again. "You will be allowed in when Ratchet allows you in."

". . . which is never . . ." she heard someone mutter.

"And keep your sarcastic comments to yourself," she added, lifting a brow in Blades' direction. The helicopter grunted and crossed his arms. Nightstalker smiled graciously at them. "Now. Be good boys for the good doctors. I will be enjoying a brief flight, and I don't want any trouble. Got it?"

Hot Spot just grinned and shook his head. "Aye aye, Mama Prime."

She narrowed her optics at his cheeky comment before she moved along. As she moved along the halls of the NEMESIS, feeling an awkward sense of deja vu, Nightstalker sighed to herself. She hadn't seen Knockout. Crossing her arms as she walked, she tried to shake off the feeling of crushed hope. Maybe she had been hoping he would apologize. She tried to reason with herself that she was the one stubbornly keeping him out of her spark, but . . . She sighed again, wings dipping. Who was she kidding. A Decepticon apologize? Or . . . former Decepticon . . .

Stepping out onto the upper deck of the NEMESIS, Nightstalker looked out over the expanse of Cybertron. A cold chill settled in her spark as she looked out in the direction of Kaon.

I can do this. I know I can do this. I already did it once, I can do it . . . Well . . . Maybe I don't HAVE to do it . . .

Her wings fluttered nervously. Maybe she should just go see Predaking and his brothers. They hadn't been properly introduced yet. And she did promise him a flight over the Manganese Mountains. Were they settled there yet? She turned, looking the opposite way towards the mountains on the distant horizon. Did he bring his creator with him? He seemed to have a certain affection for his creator. Shockwave could also help rebuild his race.

A faint breeze touched her wings. Who was she kidding. Here she was, procrastinating what she had already decided. Deliberately, Nightstalker took a deep breath, trying to let her anxieties go. She wasn't doing this for him, and she wasn't doing this for Optimus. It was for her, and her alone.

I need this. And I can do it.

A paranoid giggle jumped from her. Wouldn't Ratchet be furious at her if he found out? Who was she kidding, EVERYONE would be furious if they found out . . . Kicking herself mentally, Nightstalker finally leapt and transformed. She hummed an Earth tune to herself as she flew across Cybertron's surface, distracting herself a little from what she was doing so she wouldn't back out at the last second.

Kaon slowly came into sight. An involuntary shiver ran down Nightstalker's struts as she entered the city again and she slowed, dipping down closer to the surface. She weaved through the buildings, familiar with her surroundings, derelict as they were. She circled around the building she vaguely remembered living in before the attack, decided she didn't want to revisit the place, and moved on. She went deeper into Kaon, thinking she remembered the correct gladiatorial pit. It was actually easy to find considering the amount of tributes around it and on it given to the warlord. Nightstalker landed outside of it, trembling.

She stood there for so long she began to wonder if she was going to enter. Chiding herself, Nightstalker argued that if she had gotten this far, she might as well go through with it. Unlocking her legs, Nightstalker walked into the building, wings fluttering nervously at the way her ped steps seemed to echo.

When she entered the stands, her peds rooted to the floor again. He was there. Just like she thought. Her energon tanks gave a sickening turn, and her thoughts jumped to past events, but she shook it off. No. That wasn't why she was here. Taking a rasping breath, she couldn't help but notice that his silver paint job that used to gleam in the pit was now tarnished and dulled by the taint Unicron had left on him. She was certain that he knew she was here, but he hadn't moved an inch, hadn't even turned around to look at her.

Shaking so much she could hear her armor rattling, Nightstalker took a breath to calm herself before slowly descending the steps of the dome to the front row. She stopped once there, and she grabbed the railing, bracing herself there. He still hadn't given her any indication that he was going to recognize her presence there. She cleared her vocalizer once; twice. "M-Megatron?"

His helm twitched down, seeming to almost flinch. His servos tightened into fists, and it was almost enough to make her flee. However, all he said was, "I am surprised you sought me out."

Her wings fanned quickly. He was different. She supposed any mech once possessed by evil incarnate would be different. Different enough that Nightflier had said he had disbanded the Decepticons once he was under his own control again. Suddenly lacking something to say, Nightstalker reeled. What was she supposed to say? She knew what she had to say, but she couldn't really just say it, could she? They had unfinished business? She finally cracked her vocalizer on.


THAT was not a word.

Her vocalizer caught again, and she coughed, resetting it. "U-Uh . . ." She sucked in another nervous cycle, willing herself to be calm. He seemed calm enough. It was going to be all right. Except for the fact that she had come alone and no one knew where she was . . .

"Why did you come back here?" she finally managed to squeak.

His servos tightened more, until they shook, and finally, they relaxed. "I don't know," he finally rasped quietly, his voice easily carrying across the dome. He looked up at the ceiling, seeming far more vulnerable and lost than Nightstalker was accustomed. "I think I am searching for my mistakes. Finding that my entire life must have been one."

Nightstalker stared at his back. Despite his greater size intimidating her, She finally gathered enough strength to hurdle the railing and land in the pit with him. He still didn't move. "I . . . I don't think everything was a mistake," she finally ventured. "No one's life is a complete mistake."

There was a beat, and then, she heard him give a short laugh. She was shocked to hear such a genuine tone from him. "You are always full of surprises," he finally murmured, shaking his head. He turned towards her, slowly, finally looking at her fully. His red optics flicked over her. "The silver really does look good," he finally ventured.

Nightstalker nodded, dipping her helm. Was it appropriate to say thank you? "Thanks," she heard herself whispering quietly. "It's my mother's color."

There was a small lull in the conversation. It stretched awkwardly as Nightstalker tried to find her glossia, and finally, Megatron vented. "Nightstalker, you came here for a reason. Speak your piece."

She shrank briefly before reminding her that she had stood up to him already. She had the spinal struts for the job. She could do this. Taking a deep breath and perking her wings up to pluck up her courage, Nightstalker shuffled closer to him . . . and closer . . . until she was within proper conversation distance. "I, um . . . well . . ." Unicron just had to make him taller and larger, didn't he? He had to be at least Predaking's height now . . . "I came to say, um . . . I mean, I guess I thought, you needed to hear . . . Um . . . I . . ."

He huffed. "Spit it out, Nightstalker, we are far from beating around the bush with one another."

He yanked the words right out of her throat. "I forgive you!"

Nightstalker cringed, shrinking as she was fairly sure her voice had echoed in the empty arena. Squeezing her optics shut for whatever he might have in store for her after that, Nightstalker's wings snapped down and braced herself.

Nothing was forthcoming. At all. He didn't attack, he didn't retaliate, he didn't even move. She could actually hear his internal mechanisms working in his body as he seemed to process her words. After a pregnant beat of silence, he finally rasped,

"What . . . What did you say?"

She peeked up at him, and she found him staring at her in a sort of shocked confusion. "I . . ." It actually came out easier the second time. "I forgive you."

His optics shuttered as he stared at her, brows cinching. "For what?" he ventured warily.

Nightstalker shook her head and shrugged lightly. "Well, for . . . everything. For lying to me. For using me. For taking me too early. For raping me. For your hand in the war. For killing so many." She nodded, convincing herself of it with her words, and she finally looked up into his optics, meaning it. "I forgive you. For all of it."

He just . . . stared. It was like he couldn't even comprehend the thought, and Nightstalker felt her spark sink at the sight of his disbelief. She watched his lip curl for a moment, like he was going to lash out at her compassion, but he seemed to think the better of it. His cheeks twitched briefly, as if he was about to laugh derisively at the thought, and then that faded away too. He struggled with the thought, shaking his head, and finally, he mustered up a single word.


Nightstalker took a deep breath. "Because no one's beyond redemption." She had been taught that. Oh, how she had been taught that. "Anyone can be forgiven," she continued, "have their past forgotten in hopes of a better future. Amend their wrongs. It . . ." She smiled softly. "It takes a lot of patience. And, while it might hurt at first, or make you feel confused or ashamed . . . In the end, it heals. You won't hurt anymore. You won't feel ashamed. It'll fill up those broken parts of your soul."

She shook her helm, wings dipping a little in remembrance. "It's . . . taken me a long time to learn the healing powers of forgiveness, but I'm glad I have." She looked up at him again, making sure their optics were locked so he knew that she truly meant it. "And that's why I'm forgiving you. Because you deserve the chance to be happy too and not have someone judging you and saying that everything you are is evil and cannot be forgiven—because that's what we've always done. Even Optimus. So I forgive you, regardless of everything, because I've never seen a mech so desperate for love in my entire life."

That was the whole issue behind the war. Optimus' endless compassion. Because that was where he drew the line—compassion. He cared enough to feel pity for Megatron, sorrow for him, mercy and empathy . . . But that was where he drew the line. The things Megatron had said and done stood between them even though they stood for the same thing—overthrowing the caste system, ushering Cybertron into a new, golden age, and freedom as the right of all Cybertronians and sentient beings—and it was Optimus' unwillingness to love Megatron unconditionally that ultimately begat the downfall of both mechs.

After a beat of silence, Megatron shook his head with the bark of a disbelieving laugh. "You . . . You really believe that. You thought it through, you came here, you told me that, and you fragging believe it." He shook his head again, turning away from her and fists clenching up in his agitation. "I don't understand."

Nightstalker frowned. Sure she had explained it well enough but prepared to try to make better sense of it, she asked warily, "Understand what?"

"Why!" he exploded, whirling back around. For the first time, Nightstalker found she didn't flinch away. He threw out a servo. "I mean—HOW? How can you possibly find it in yourself to forgive ME?"

She gave a small shrug. "Well, I chose to."

He scoffed. "You chose to."

Frowning at his mockery of her gesture, Nightstalker put her servos on her hips. "Yes, I chose to," she said sharper than before. "If you remember, that was the entire point of the war, so people could choose of their own free will."

"I know what the war was about!" Megatron snarled, armor hitching up defensively. "Don't you lecture me! You're mad and deluding yourself. No one can forgive me."

Nightstalker pressed her lips together angrily. "Yes I can!" she snapped. "I just forgave you, you're just choosing not to accept it. I decided that I'd rather reach out to someone instead of festering with my grudge, and according to my brother, that's exactly what's wrong with you, that you can't let someone love you and that's why you hurt everyone you care about! It took four million years of war and Optimus' death for you to keep spurning his care for you; you manipulated my brother, and you raped me. So what can you say for yourself?"

His red optics smoldered down on her with fiery anger. His jaw ticked tightly, and his servos shook against a violent outburst of anger. With the way Nightstalker jutted out her chin, practically daring him to strike her, made it even more difficult to control himself. He vented loudly, expelling pent up heat, and finally, he looked away, backing down. Nightstalker's perked wings finally relaxed, and with a depression of air, slowly let go of her anger.

"Megatron," she said calmly, "I . . . I don't know where you're going to go after this, but . . . I could put in some words for you." His cheek twitched. He turned away from her, but Nightstalker continued. "I know what the rest of them will think, but I don't care. You deserve the chance to start over just as much as anyone else does." When he kept his back to her and refused to answer, Nightstalker swallowed, looking at his clenched servos. Sucking in a deep breath, she reached out, touching him voluntarily. "Megatron—"

His servo twitched under her touch. "Nightstalker." She fell silent at the tone of his voice. The tension in his servo lessened. "I . . . I appreciate what you mean, but I don't think I'm ready to accept it. I have my own problems to sort out yet." His helm rolled down, and after a pause, he turned, crouching to her level. She physically suppressed the urge to back away when he took her servo in his again. "I owe you an apology. I can't truly say it now and mean it, so I'll save it until it's genuine." Nightstalker nodded, respecting his decision. She didn't need an apology now. She just wanted him to know that someone could still love him after it all, no matter how strange a dynamic that love might be.

"It's all right," she said. She fluttered her wings. "In a weird way, I almost need to thank you. If it wasn't for everything, I think I'd still be just as weak as I was before. I'm . . . stronger now. I found my courage. I found the will to fight and to not apologize for who I am. I wouldn't know how to be the person I am now if it wasn't for you."

Heavily, Megatron vented. He stared down at her servo he held, unable to look her in her optics. His grip on her tightened. "Don't thank me," he rasped, shaking his head. "The Autobots taught you those things. I was the one that made you act on them."

"I wouldn't have been able to grow without you."

Megatron winced and scowled. "I'm not sure you remember everything I've done to you."

Nightstalker frowned. "And can't you accept that sometimes good things can come from pain? If you weren't a miner and a gladiator, would you have ever found individualism within yourself?"

His servo tightened on hers until he nearly crushed it in his grip. "Please do NOT justify my actions, Nightstalker. I deserve far more reparations than Unicron was able to extract upon me."

She put her other servo on top of his and dipped her helm down, trying to get within his line of sight. "And to not punish you is mercy."

Megatron abruptly stood, pulling his servo from hers. "Not now," he said, straining. "Maybe not ever. Not until I can come to terms with myself."

Nightstalker hesitated. "Well . . . No matter where you decide to go . . . I'll always were here on Cybertron. So, well, feel free to come back if you need someone to talk to."

After a strained moment, the tension drained from him. "I will remember that," he said softly.

A soft smile made it to Nightstalker's face. She didn't say anything more, not wanting to push it, so instead she left, leaving him alone. However, she felt a peace with the situation now. Transforming and taking to the skies, Nightstalker sighed.

This is what you would have wanted, right Optimus? It's what I wanted too. I hope you can rest in peace knowing the change that is beginning for Megatron. And thank you for teaching me to be greater than I ever was before.
Fraternizing 74
So I've been angry with the ending of this chapter so I just chopped it all off and decided to put that last scene at the beginning of the next chapter. :XD: I really wanted to get it in this chapter because for some reason I felt it flowed better, but now i"m having second thoughts. Which is why it took SO LONG for this chapter to get up. (THat, and I've been stupidly busy this semester.)

I also have a great love for Megatron because I see so much that can be redeemed in his character and how interesting he could be with some palpable character development that makes him change. I also find a pleasure when he's not redeemed too. I don't know. I just love Megatron because he's a multifaceted character and is stunningly interesting.

Prev-- Fraternizing 73Megatron disbanded the Decepticons. He fled across Cybertron’s surface, renouncing his ways after being possessed by Unicron.
Starscream fled in the opposite direction.
And Dreadwing knew where he was headed.
He followed him across Cybertron to Darkmount’s peak. It was just like Starscream. He’d go to the Decepticon throne even though there was nothing left of the Decepticon cause. Likely, he was deluding himself because there was nothing left for him. Dreadwing’s spark soiled black.
Nothing but his final penance.
When the slim mech transformed and approached the throne, Dreadwing tilted the nose of his alt mode down to follow. Transforming and landing behind him, Starscream squawked and jumped around to face him.
Dreadwing stared aloofly at him, not speaking a word. Starscream blanched, and his wings tipped down.
“D-Dreadwing!” he stuttered, striving to keep the conversation cheerful. “H-How nice it is to see you. You ah . . . You’re not


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2 deviants said :iconflyingheartsplz: :heart: Zeb :heart: :iconflyingheartsplz: KITTY EARS
No deviants said Kanan :la:
No deviants said Hera :iconlainloveplz:
No deviants said Chopper :lmao: (he HAS to be swearing all the time)
No deviants said Ezra :iconsuperw00tplz:
No deviants said The Inquisitor :iconcannotevenplz:

Livestream OFF

Journal Entry: Sat Sep 20, 2014, 4:35 PM
Thanks for the fun stream you guys! :la: I promise I can't remember everyone who showed up, but thank you nonetheless! Hope to get the chapter up soon! :heart:

Transformers Journal CSS by Pascua-Tanya
  • Mood: Cheerful
  • Listening to: "Break Free" Ariana Grande
  • Reading: nothing
  • Watching: nothing
  • Playing: nothing
  • Eating: nothing



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grim-zitos Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
hey sis how you been do i miss talking to ya hahaha :wave:
Whozawhatcha Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Oh, I've been pretty busy! ^^; Having a bit of an extended writer's block that's been bugging me, but otherwise pretty good. College is a bit easier this year, so I'll probably pick up an extra class next semester since I can handle the load now.
grim-zitos Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
wow you're hanging in their I am proud of you sis big time what are you trying to major in?
Whozawhatcha Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:aww: English, actually! They just added that major to my school, so I jumped all over it!
(1 Reply)
FoxAircurrent Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2014
have fun

*rolls out*
Whozawhatcha Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014  Hobbyist Writer

FoxAircurrent Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014
you should totally write a oneshot about it <3  
Whozawhatcha Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
*makes ugly dying noises*
(1 Reply)
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