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Childhood Drabbles

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Airstream grumbled to himself as he had walked into the nursery. His mother, who biologically wasn't his mother but still had to refer to her as such, had told him to check to make sure that his little sister, who also wasn't biologically his sibling, was sound asleep and if she were to wake up to play with her. She wasn't even doing anything that important. He didn't understand why she just couldn't watch the baby herself. It was her child, not his. 

He walked over to the crib, seeing the little sparkling sound asleep. He frowned and glared at her. The sight of the little runt made his blood boil. It was a sign of how his parents were in a loveless, political Bond. He may have been a sparkling, but he wasn't stupid. He knew exactly how his parents felt for each other - nothing but hate. Otherwise neither would have cheated on each other and have their own separate sparklings from different partners. 

He didn't have to be a genius to understand how his legal mother despised him. The way she looked at him and talked to him was enough to tell him that she disliked him. It was almost as if he were vermin. Primus, she didn't even seem to care for her own child all that much either. And it wasn't like his father was ever home to do anything. Always out on "business trips." But Airstream knew that he was off somewhere playing, perhaps with other femmes.

He had learned that he needed to fend for himself in this world, that no one would help him unless he proved that he was worthy enough. Now this... this new baby? How was he supposed to deal with that? They surely didn't expect him to love it, did they? He couldn't. It wasn't even his sister. He just lived in the same house as it and nothing more.

The baby started to wake up, slowly opening her optics and seeing Airstream. She whimpered a bit, as if upset that she was stuck in the crib. Airstream rolled his optics, taking the little femme out of the crib and setting her to the floor. He sat down on the floor too, folding his arms across his chassis as he watched the green baby slowly crawl around the room, making coo noises as it reached for toys and such. She picked one block up, studied it for a bit, and then decided to throw it across the room. 

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath. Primus, this was going to be a stupid femme when she grew up. He just knew it. What kind of brat picks up her toys and just throws them across the room? You play with toys, not just throw them like little bouncy balls.

The door opened behind him, causing him to glance over his shoulder. His mother looked in the room with indifference, but as if she were looking for something. Airstream stood up and turned to her. "Is there something you need, Mother?"

"Have you seen my lipstick?" she asked. "It's the red one."

Airstream wondered why she would need it. No matter how much make-up she put on, she'd still be ugly. But he kept his mouth shut and shook his helm. "Sorry, Mother, but I haven't seen it."

She eyed him suspiciously, not truly believing him; she never trusted her Bondmate's son because he was just like him - untrustworthy. She glanced up when she saw Thornstriker crawl over to her, making coo noises, sitting up in front of her and stretching up her arms to her, as if she wanted her to pick him up.

She shook her helm at her. "Mommy's busy, Thornstriker, so not now." She bent down, giving a little push toward Airstream. "Play with Airstream. He's the big brother after all."

Thornstriker made a whining sound as she turned away, closing the door behind her. She whimpered a bit, glancing over at Airstream, who just gave him an apathetic look. "What? Are you surprised? She's a bad femme to everyone. Don't think that just because you're her little runt, she'll be fonding all over you."

Thornstriker made a face. Then she went back on her servos and knees, crawling over to the seeker sparkling, who had situated himself by the crib. Airstream rolled his optics and folded his arms across his chassis. A part of him felt bad for the baby since she didn't understand why no one liked her. Oh well, he couldn't exactly change that.

He did nothing as Thornstriker bumped into his knees, lightly pushing her servos against it. She opened her mouth, as if she were going to speak, but only little slurs and baby coos came out. Airstream suddenly felt annoyed. He just knew that this stupid baby would be the center of attention by others for a little while, especially the servants in the house. Everyone just loved babies. Primus, everyone loved anything stupid, just as long as it was cute.

"Look, you brat," he growled, pointing his finger at her. "You listen to me well. You may think we're brothers, but we're not. You're nothing but a stupid pain, and that's what you'll always be. You're nothing to me. You're-"

But then he stopped, optics widening. Thornstriker had made a grab for his finger, taking a hold of it in her little servo. Primus, was this femme tiny. Airstream looked down at her, unprepared for the little smile on the green infant's face. But what really caught him off guard was when the child opened her mouth and said brokenly, "A...Ai... Airst... Airstream."

Airstream just looked at her. This was Thornstriker's first word, wasn't it? And it was his name? For a good solid moment, he was utterly stunned. He would have expected the kid's first word to be "Mom" or "Dad" or just something other than his name. But no. It was his name. Because Thornstriker loved him, even though Airstream had been anything but kind to her. But no one loved him. Not even his own parents, who he always tried to be well-behaved for. With Thornstriker, he was rude. He was mean. Still, Thornstriker's first word was his name because Thornstriker loved her older brother. She loved Airstream. 

Before Airstream could stop her, even if he wanted to, Thornstriker had managed to climb up into his lap and snuggled against him. Airstream seemed unsure at first, not knowing whether to push her out of his lap or not. Earlier, the sight of the femme made him furious, but now... He just didn't know. He laughed once and shook his helm. "You're a strange creature... When someone insults you, you climb into their lap?"

Thornstriker said nothing, reaching over and pulling out something from under her crib, presenting it to Airstream. He looked down at it and his optics widened. Primus, it was Mother's lipstick. He looked down at the green sparkling and chuckled. "Little thief... Still, nice work."

As if she understood, Thornstriker cooed and cuddled into her brother's chassis. Airstream gave up and hugged the infant. Maybe she wasn't so bad. A bit stupid, maybe, but it was obvious that Thornstriker did love him. Hell, she was probably the first to show him any love. Maybe it was high time he showed her back that same love. After all, they were siblings. 

Chapter Text

The sound of a femme screaming wakes me. I abruptly sit up from my berth, but I don't dare get out of it. I just clutch onto the sheets tightly, shaking with my spark pounding in fear. I hear the scream again, but a mech's snarl soon followed, which scares me even more, though this should be familiar to me by now. 

It doesn't have happened every night, but it happens enough that I shouldn't be so afraid. Mom would act weird and Father would be violent, would be cruel. They weren't like this when I was younger. But when I started going to elementary school, Mom had turned weird, crying and being all crazy most of the time; she had even stopped working. Father had turned bitter, scary – he worked longer hours and began to drink, which often led to his scary behavior. I don't know why they had become like that, but I didn't like it. I miss the old them. I wish they would turn back to normal again. 

I jump when I hear Father howl in what sounded like pain, which was followed by a loud thud. 

"Fucking bitch!" I hear Father from the hallway. 

"Stay away!" Mom's voice shrieks; she sounds completely afraid, like someone is trying to kill her. "You stay away from me!"

I just sort of react. I jump out of berth and run to the door. Primus, what was Father doing to Mom?! Why did she sound so scared?! I know I have to help her, even though I'm scared too – she's my mother!

But when I open the door and look into the hallway, I know that I should have just stayed in bed. It would have been better if I had. I'm weak. I'm useless. Father tells me so when he's drunk and he's my father – he knows me, so it's probably true. 

Mom is standing in front of Father, holding a pair of scissors in her servo with blood dripping from the blade while tears are running down her face. Father's optic is clamped over his right optic, where I can see even more blood. I just freeze up, especially when both of them look at me. Mom just looks stunned while Father looks afraid, like I'm something scary or like I shouldn't be there. 

Maybe I don't belong here. I should have stayed inside, especially when I see the blood. Blood scares me. It's why I can't watch those horror or violent films. Too much blood and violent. It's just too scary and I can't watch.

But this isn't a movie. I can't turn it off and I can't go to Mom to hide. Now she has the scissors, the killing weapon with blood on it. I should be running from her.

"Bloodshed, go to your room!" Father growls, though he doesn't move toward me or take his servo away from his optic. 

But Mom did move and she had moved toward me. She drops the pair of scissors and rushes over to me, smiling though looking completely scared. Her optics aren't right either. They are big, bright, but not in a good way. They look scary, like a crazy person. Like the homeless mech that lives by the trashcans I walk by to and from school. She just doesn't look like Mom. But because it is her, I don't run away. Maybe it's because I'm too scared to run away. All I can really see are the scissors with blood on them. 

She kneels down in front of me and grabs my shoulders, holding me in place. I stiffen a bit, afraid she's going to hurt me. She already hurt Father. But she doesn't. She just strokes my shoulders. 

"You love me, don't you Bloodshed?" she asks, a hint of this desperateness in her voice. I never heard her like that, unless she is muttering to herself. 

"I-I–"

"You're such a good boy," she says, as if she can't heat me. It makes me even more afraid and I don't know what to do. I just stand there, hoping that this is a dream and that this would all go away. "Such a good, good boy… Mommy will protect you, Bloodshed. Because you're just a good boy… Such a good little mech–AH!"

Father suddenly comes up behind her and yanks her away from me, my shoulder finally free from her grip. It had been tight and I think she left some dents and scratches too. Still, I don't move because I'm too afraid to, especially when my mother starts screaming in fear, in anger? I don't know. I can only watch Father wrap his arms tightly around her and hold her down as she struggles violently, screaming and crying and kicking and clawing at him.

But he doesn't let go. Even though his arms are bleeding because she's scratching, even though she hitting him hard with her fists and pedes, Father doesn't let go. He only drags her away and back into their berthroom.

"F-Father, what–"

"Go back to your room!" he shouts, glaring at me and making me jump back a bit in fear. 

"Bloodshed!" Mom shrieks, struggling violently. "Bloodshed! Help me! Help Mommy – please! Please! Bloodshed!"

I don't know what to do. Mom's crying, crazy. Father's afraid, acting mean, cruel – I don't know what to do. I can't help Mom because I can't stop my father. I'm not strong enough to help and I'm scared. I don't even know if I should help her. She's so crazy, so not Mom. My spark is pounding and I'm shaking and I don't know how to stop.

Father drags Mom into their room and, against his orders, I run to the door, clutching it tightly as I peak inside. Father has already pinned her to the berth. Mom is screaming, like an animal. I don't understand and it's what makes me not step inside, even though she's screaming out my name, as if I'm the only one who can save her, even though I really can't do anything.

Father grabs something from the table, holding it high in the air. It's shiny, but because it's so dark, I can't see what it is. But I do see him stab Mom with it and I can only watch with wide optics, frightened that he had just killed her. But Mom only let out a few stop gasps and flinches before her body fell slack on the berth, going into stassis.

Father just pants above her, letting go of whatever he stabbed her with. He runs a servo over his face and whispers something that I can't make out. Not that I want to. I just run back to my room, terrified at what just happened.

Slamming the door behind me, I run back to my berth and under the covers. But I know they won't protect me from anything. It just made things less scary. I should be used to this because it's not something new and I know that. But it's just so scary. I can't help Mom or Father or whoever I'm suppose to listen to. 

I don't know what to do. I'm too weak to help anyone, even myself. All I can do is hide under my covers and cry, hoping the bad things will go away and that, one day, Mom and Father will go back to being normal.

Chapter Text

Warpath rubbed up and down the smaller, but older sparkling's back as she cried into her servos. Primus, today had not been a good day for the green youngling. She was extremely intelligent and a nice person, but it was so easy for the other sparkling to pick on her. She was a teacher's pet (though it wasn't on purpose) and she was extremely shy and timid. Warpath was good friend was Thornstriker, no doubt, but even he understood that she was the perfect target for bullying.

It happened on the playground during the after-school daycare. Three of the older kids had cornered the little femme and were teasing her. Thornstriker was clutching onto her book bag for dear life, as if that would save her from her bullies. This had never happened before, so she had been completely terrified. Yet, no one was going to help her. 

When the middle kid shoved Thornstriker to the ground and into the mud, she began to cry as the bullies threw verbal insults at her. The taunting seemed to last forever. Then, the next thing she knew, someone had jumped at the bully that pushed him to the ground.

Thornstriker was stunned to see it had been Warpath to help her. Normally, a sparkling his age jumping an older one wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do. But Warpath was bigger than a lot of kids his age; he looked even older than Thornstriker and was already taller than her. Still, it was one against three, though Warpath was able to defend himself pretty well from what Thornstriker observed. The teachers were able to pull them apart and demanded to know what happened from Thornstriker.

The sparkling couldn't lie – she was terrible at it – and told them exactly what happened. Thornstriker was obviously saved from punishment, but the rest of them were suspended, though Warpath did get less time as he wasn't bullying anyone but merely helping out a friend.

Of course, when they got home, Thornstriker was blaming herself for what happened, saying she was a weakling and that Warpath shouldn't have helped her like that. Now because of her, he was in trouble. She was always like this – blaming herself when she did nothing wrong. But this time, it really had been her fault. She was so weak that she couldn't even defend herself. Today, Warpath had to do for her. The younger mech could have gotten seriously hurt and it would have been all her fault!

"Thornstriker, it's okay," the younger sparkling assured her. "I'm not mad at you or anything. I acted on my own… Don't cry."

"But it's my fault!" she whimpered into her servos, still blaming herself for what happened. "You…! You're always helping me out and I…! I can't do anything! I'm so…! So useless…!"

Warpath shook his helm. "No way. You're the most helpful person I know! Without you, I probably would have failed my science test. Remember – you helped me memorize the vocabulary words? You made them really easy for me."

Thornstriker wiped her tears away, a bit taken aback by the statement. But she brushed it aside and shook her helm. "So? I can't even fight my own battles… Someone else is always doing it for me. I'm a baby."

"Don't listen to what those other mechs say," he murmured, giving him a soft smile. "You're awesome, Thornstriker. They… They're probably just jealous because they're stupid."

The smaller mech titled her helm a bit, as if pondering the truth about her younger friend's words. Still, her face seemed to brighten up a bit, sitting there quietly as she waited for the other to continue. 

"I mean, come on," he said, smiling brightly. "You're smart. You're already reading datapads by college teachers. You seem to understand more about science and math than anyone else at the school and I mean even better than some of the teachers. They're all just jealous because they're stupid and don't get it. Sure, you're small but in your head, you're super powerful… Like that Doctor Mindscrambler on that television show!"

Thornstriker giggled a little, blushing slightly; her friend was being too kind. "Thank you."

"Yep. And as for me getting in trouble…" His tone softened a bit and he gave Thornstriker a hug. "I'm always looking out for you. I'll protect you from anything. I'm your friend… That's what friends do."

Thornstriker looked up at her friend, who had a big smile on his face. He was right. They were friends. Good friends. Best friends. It was okay for them to depend on each other when they needed it most. She wasn't exactly happy that Warpath had gotten into trouble, though. Still, the sparkling seemed to be all right with it because they were friends. 

She hugged her friend back tightly. "Thank you, Warpath… You're a good friend."

"Anytime, Thornstriker. Anytime."

Chapter Text

The voice was soft, gentle, and above all, soothing. Bloodshed couldn't help but to be intrigued by it. He had just gotten home from school and luckily, his father was still at work. His father scared him and he hated it when he came home from school to find Bombrush in the house. He never knew what his mood was. He could either be his normal self, stressed, or drunk. Seeing him normal was rare nowadays, so he was either stressed or drunk, two moods Bloodshed hated. 

Slowly and cautiously, he ascended the stairs, peeking over the railing to see where the noise was coming from. His parents' berthroom door was open, which seemed to be the source of the sound. Strange - that was where his mother usually was during the day. And night since Bombrush didn't let her get out of berth too much. Biting his bottom lip, he hesitantly called out, "Momma?"

The pleasant singing stopped. "Bloodshed? Is that you?"

He heard small footsteps before the door opened, Pixela stepping out of her room and looking over to where Bloodshed was hidden. She gave the sparkling a soft smile, walking over to him. "Bloodshed - there you are." She picked the little red mech up and held him against her chassis, stroking over his helm before planting a soft kiss to his cheek. "How was school?"

"It was fine," he said softly, leaning against her embrace. So, it was a good day for her. Some days he would come home and she would be behaving strangely. Always muttering weird sayings and words, some of which Bloodshed didn't even understand. Then there would be screaming and crying and... He shook his mind away from such thoughts. 

Pixela sighed, carrying the sparkling back to her room. That was usually all that Bloodshed would tell her and Bombrush. Everything was fine. She knew better though, but she didn't want to harass or hound him about anything. When Bloodshed was ready to talk more openly about his day, then she would be ready to listen. She just had to be patient. 

She set the child on the bed, sitting down next to him and stroking over his helm. He looked up at her and said, "Momma... Was that you singing earlier?"

Pixela blinked. "You heard that?"

He nodded.

"Oh... I'm sorry. Did it bother you?"

"N-No," he stuttered, shaking his helm. "It... It was really... pretty..." He mumbled out that last part, looking down at his pedes. He wondered if he had asked something wrong since his mother was staring at him with that wide-optic expression. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. He didn't want to cause her any trouble. He was just curious.

She then gave him a soft smile. "Thank you." She leant down and kissed his forehelm. "And it was just a lullaby... Would you like to hear it?"

Bloodshed nodded meekly, curious as to what the words were. Pixela had sang it very prettily and he had only heard a little bit of it. He wanted to hear the whole thing. Funny since the big mech kids said lullabies were for babies. But he just wanted to hear it once. Would that make him a baby? He didn't think so... He just wanted to hear his mother sing again. She had such a pretty voice... Just once wouldn't hurt. And no one would know, so it would be okay.

"Beautiful dreamer,
Wake unto me
Starlight and dewdrops
Are awaiting thee."

Bloodshed's optics widened. Pixela sounded even prettier now that he could hear her properly. And that song… It sent shivers down his frame. He felt as if she were singing directly to him, instead of just for him. It wasn't just a song. It almost felt like a message. 

"Sounds of the rude world
Heard in the day
Led by the moonlight
Have all passed away."

Primus, this song… This lullaby was practically speaking to him. Once again, the other sparklings at school had made fun of him for his poor family background and made him cry. But he would never tell his parents about it. He didn't want to appear weak to Bombrush and he didn't want Pixela to worry. Besides, this song made him forget, made him feel better.

"Beautiful dreamer,
King of my song
List' while I woo thee
With soft melody."

His mother's voice was so pretty, so soothing. It was as if she were an angel. Well to him, she was an angel. Though most times she was always in bed and acting weird or sleeping, unable to help him from Bombrush's angered or drunken fist, he loved her. She provided him sanctuary, just like she was now. He loved his mother and he always would. 

"Gone are the cares of
Life's busy throng
Beautiful dreamer
Awake unto me
Beautiful dreamer,
Awake unto me…"

Pixela's voice died away as the song finished, looking down at the red sparkling. Her optics widened to find him fast asleep on the berth, curled up comfortable on the sheets beneath him. She smiled gently and shook her helm, gathering him up in her arms and gently laying him up against the pillows, putting the blankets over him.

He must have had a hard day. She let out a soft sigh as she stroked over his helm. Her son was so beautiful and so fragile… She wished she could be there for him more, be a better mother to him. But she knew of her condition, her limitations. It didn't make the guilt go away though. She was not only hurting her Bondmate, but her son as well. 

Tears slowly began to trickle down her face, tripping onto the servo that rest of Bloodshed's helm. She loved them both, but she only seemed to cause them pain. At least most of the time. She knew she was a burden. She didn't want to be, but she was.

It was hard, but it was her life, no matter how much she wished it weren't. 

Chapter Text

Today was a good day, which was rare for Bloodshed to come home to. Normally, Bombrush would be drinking or helping Pixela while she would be acting all weird or sleeping. But when he opened the door that day after coming from school, he was stunned to see Bombrush and Pixela simply watching television together. 

Bloodshed wouldn't lie – he was fairly suspicious as to why they seemed so calm and peaceful. Normally he'd come home to see Bombrush cursing up a storm or Pixela bawling on the floor like a madwoman. This was just too weird, seeing them on the couch snuggled up like that. Cautiously, he closed the front door, which caused Pixela's attention.

"Bloodshed, is that you?"

Quietly, the sparkling nodded and stepped over to his parents, his mother smiling a little. She stretched out her arms to him and picked him up, placing him in her lap. "Don't you get home earlier than this?"

"There was an accident where I normally walk," he said, setting down his book bag onto the floor. "I had to take the longer way."

Bombrush reached over and patted his helm. "Well, as long as you're okay. Your mother here thought you had been abducted or something, though it's only been fifteen minutes."

Bloodshed looked down at his servos, inwardly flinching a bit when Bombrush patted his back. He simply didn't understand how to handle a gentle touch from his father these days. Usually the only time he would touch him was when he wanted to hit him. The fact that he was in a good mood and not raising a servo to hit was rare. He was a bit on edge and subconsciously pressed into Pixela, worried that eventually his father's servo would turn violent.  

Pixela gave him an annoyed look, holding her son close. "You never know what could happen these days. There are some crazy people in this world."

Now it was Bombrush's turn to give her a look, glancing over her frame. "Oh trust me, dear... I understand plenty about the nutcases."

She rolled her optics at her Bondmate's sly comment and turned her attention back down to her son, who looked a bit confused as to what they were talking about. They had not said anything regarding her condition and they wanted to keep it that way. They couldn't have him worry about her. That just wasn't good for the youngling's spark. He needed a chance to grow without such a burden on his shoulders. Knowing that she had to change the subject, she placed Bloodshed on the couch next in between her and Bombrush. "So, tell me - what did you do today at school?"

Bloodshed remained silent and looked down at his servos. This was just too weird. When he was younger and this was to happen, he might have seen this behavior as normal. Not anymore though. Not ever since Pixela stopped working and stayed home all the time. Not ever since Bombrush started drinking and becoming violent. It wasn't that he didn't like it, because it was far from it. He did enjoy the fact that they seemed normal and happy, but why now? Why so suddenly? He didn't understand and it just completely overwhelmed him. 

Then, unable to comprehend the situation, he jumped from the couch, grabbed his bag, and ran out of the living and up the stairs. The sudden dash shocked both of his parents, who looked at each other for a moment, stunned. But Pixela reacted quicker, pushing from her seat and running after her son.

"Bloodshed?" she cried. "What's wrong? Bloodshed?!"

Bombrush shut off the television the minute he heard the door to Bloodshed's room slam shut, following Pixela up the stairs, seeing her standing by the sparkling's door, knocking on it but not easily opening the door. She was always like that, respecting her son's privacy. Of course, when he was acting like this, she should have just have walked inside. He didn't have a lock. 

Pushing her out of the way, he opened the door and walked inside (causing her to cry out in him with angered surprise), stopping short when he saw Bloodshed curled up in the far right corner, his face buried into his knees as he hugged himself into a ball. Primus, what the hell was this? He frowned and slowly approached the boy, crouching down next to him. 

"Bloodshed?"

The sparkling flinched. 

"Bloodshed, what's wrong?" he demanded gently. "Did we... do something to upset you?"

When he didn't get an answer, he looked back at his mate for help. She gave a look as if she didn't know what to do either, walking over to both mechs and kneeling down beside Bombrush. "Bloodshed... What's wrong?" She touched his arms, which made him flinch a bit. "Sweetspark... Are you all right?"

Bloodshed lifted his helm up and glanced at the two worried expressions his parents wore. Then he said softly, "Why...? Why are you guys acting all different...?"

"What do you mean?"

He pointed at Bombrush. "You're usually drinking," he said, Bombrush inwardly flinching a bit at the harsh and even scared tone in his son's voice. Then he pointed to Pixela. "And you're always in bed... sleeping or crying or yelling... Why today are you acting all different...? Why...?!" 

The sparkling suddenly burst into tears, Pixela immediately pulling her child into an embrace, which he weakly fought against. She glanced back at her Bondmate, who just looked back at her with a pained expression. So - they were the cause of this. Honestly, Bombrush wasn't too surprise that Bloodshed was confused. Ever since Pixela's disorders had been acting up, he had been taking care of her so much that he hardly had time for Bloodshed. Then there was the drinking, which he didn't dare go into. He knew what he did to Bloodshed and he knew it needed to stop. Just sometimes, he couldn't put down or turn away from the bottle. 

Pixela kissed the top of his helm. "I'm sorry, Bloodshed..." she said softly, feeling guilty as to being the cause for his pain. "I'm so sorry... I... We wanted to try so hard today for you. We've been awful... I know and I'm sorry." She titled up his helm, biting her bottom lip when she saw the tears. Gently, she wiped them away and whispered, "But we do love you, Bloodshed. We wished things were different in regards to how we show it, but we do love you. Please believe us. Please..."

Bloodshed pushed her servos away, trying to calm himself down. He wanted to believe them, but it was just so hard to. He knew that his mother loved him and cared about him, but Bombrush... He was truly never sure. Not that he would say it out loud, but it was true. Being their son could be a burden at times and sometimes he wished he didn't exist. But he supposed it was rare moment such as these that saved him, saved all of them.

He wiped away the last of his tears and whispered, "I'm sorry, Mom... For running out like that."

She shushed him, giving him a gentle smile and planting a soft kiss on his forehelm. "No need for you to apologize, Bloodshed. I understand." She gently picked her son up and held him against her frame. "Now, come on. We're going to get ready soon. Tell us where you want to eat tonight."

He blinked and looked at her. "We're going out to eat?"

"Of course," she said with a smile.

"But why?"

Both parents looked at him abruptly, as if he had said something wrong. Bombrush laughed once and titled his helm a bit. "Seriously, boy? You can't even remember when you're own damn birthday is?"

"My birthday...?" Was that today? Primus, nowadays, every day seemed like the day before it. How could he have forgotten his own birthday? His parents must have thought he was stupid or something.

Pixela frowned at Bombrush, walking over and smacking his shoulder. "He's had a lot on his mind these past few weeks, Bombrush. Sometimes things just simple your mind when you're stressed. Primus knows what's stress has made you forget."

He frowned and rolled his optics, before looking down at his son. He gave him a soft smile, which Bloodshed somewhat returned. Patting his helm, he said, "Pick wherever you want to go. I got a bonus the other day, so it's okay if it's expensive."

Bloodshed nodded. He sighed, leaning against his mother. Days like these were rare, but he knew he had to enjoy them while they lasted. Primus only knew whether or not his parents would be like this tomorrow. He could hope, but he knew to never get his hopes up to high. For now, though, he would enjoy both of his parents' company and possibly pray that this will last. 

Chapter Text

Novabomb pressed into the far back corner, too terrified to scream as he watched the carnage unfold in front of him. Despite his parents telling him to get out of the house, he had been too scared to run and leave them. Instead, he chose to stay behind, as if he thought he could help them.

But he couldn’t. He was just a sparkling.

It had been a normal evening. He and his parents had been watching some television when they heard a knock at the door. His father, Skywave, had gone to answer the door. But the minute the yellow femme had opened it was the minute she had been blasted back into the living room, crashing through the wall. Novabomb didn’t remember much, except for his mother, Windchime, screaming at him to run. 

He didn’t know why his aunt Starbreaker was there or why she was hurting his parents. Nothing made sense and he didn’t know what to do. All he could was sit in the far corner, trembling while trying to cover his optics from the blood was that was splattered everywhere. The floor, the walls, the furniture – everything was covered in his parents’ blood. 

Skywave was lying in the center of the living room in a pool of energon. Her body had gone completely gray and motionless. Her right wing had been completely ripped off while her right pede and left leg had been sliced open. Her chassis had a massive hole from when Starbreaker shot out her spark. 

Novabomb heard a scream from his left, jerking his helm as tears poured down his face. Starbreaker was on top of his mother, holding a knife high in the air as she kept the other seeker femme pinned. 

“It’s because of your kind!” the orange femme spat. “You and your filth…! You’re nothing but pollution to Cybertron! This is for the sake of Cybertron! This is was Primus wants!”

Windchime couldn’t respond. She was in too much pain and it didn’t help that her sister had her pinned by the throat. She knew the other femme hated her for loving another femme, but this? She had never thought this would happen. Had she had know, she could have saved her son and her Bondmate. She could have saved them all.

“And you even spawned!” she hissed, glaring up at Novabomb, whose optics widening in terror. The femme was looking at him with such hate, such animosity that he thought the look alone would kill him. He flinched back, pressing into the wall as he trembled harder. “Primus condemns you and yet you reproduce?! To make even more like you?! All of you need to be obliterated!”

Windchime’s optics widened, knowing exactly what the older femme meant. No… No, she would not allow it! She already took away her Bondmate! She would not let her take her son!

The bloody femme reached up and clawed hard into the orange femme’s face. Starbreaker howled in pain when one of her talons clawed at her optic, breaking some of the glass. She released her with a shout, Windchime struggling to her pedes as she forced herself over to Novabomb, trying to get him to stand. 

“Run,” she whispered as she struggled to get him to his pedes. “Nova, please – you need to run!”

“M-Mama…! Mama, I–”

“Run!” she begged, trying to push him away. “Novabomb, please! Do it for Mama – run!”

But Novabomb just hugged her, not seeing his aunt recover behind Windchime. No! No, he wouldn’t leave her! He couldn’t leave her! Not while she was bleeding and crying and seeming to be in so much pain… He couldn’t leave her!

“Mama, I–”

“Novabomb, run!” she screamed, trying to push him away. “Just run–” 

But she never finished her sentence. Her entire body seized up in pain, her mouth falling agape as she let out a pained gasp. Novabomb just stared at her chassis, optics wide with horror. Slowly, her head drooped down, allowing herself to see the blade sticking right out of her spark chamber. 

Novabomb looked up at his mother, having gone into a state of shock. Blood had splattered all over his face, some even getting into his mouth. The taste was bitter, vile even. He wanted to throw up, but he could only stare at his mother, who was able to tilt her helm up to him. Her optics began to flutter and, in a weak and pained voice that was barely above a whisper, she whimpered out, “Run…”

Starbreaker yanked the blade out of the femme’s back, Windchime wobbling for a few moments before falling with a hard thud off to the side. Her systems slowly shut off one by one, her body becoming gray. Smiling brightly, her optics fell to her nephew, who just sat there on his knees as he stared at his mother, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

She kneeled down next to him, roughly seizing him by the throat. The sparkling seemed to snap out of him and gagged, immediately flailing in her tight grip. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, shaking her helm. “You’ll be joining that filth soon…” But she remembered how her teachings had told her that all sparklings deserved a chance, even spawns like him. “Unless you repent… Then you’ll be saved.”

Novabomb didn’t understand what she was saying. He was too scared, too angry, too upset to understand anything. His parents were dead. His aunt had killed them. He understood that. He just didn’t understand why and that was what was killing him the most. He just wanted to know why! They weren’t bad people! This didn’t need to happen! Why?! WHY?!

When the little mech did not answer, Starbreaker snarled and shoved him hard against the wall. “Fine then!” she shouted. “Be condemned, you disgusting spawn of Unicron!”

The sparkling slammed the back of his helm hard against the wall, denting the side of it. But when he hit the wall, something inside of him snapped. He didn’t know what it was. In fact, for a moment, he thought he had been killed. His vision faded to white, causing him to panic a little. But then he thought he saw his parents, waving at him, telling him to come toward them. So, he did.

Starbreaker stared at the sparkling as he fell to servos and knees. He was trembling, but the mech had gone quite. Just as she took a step toward him, he slowly raised his helm. She gasped and tensed at the sight of his optics, which had gone from a brilliant red to blinding white. He looked completely possessed; she panicked at the sight. 

“Y-You demon…!” she screeched, holding the bloody knife in front of her. “Demon!”

The mech looked down at the knife. Then his optics fell to the floor, where he could see his mother lying in her own pool of blood. He looked back at the knife, then back at the dead femme.

Finally, his entire body stiffened and he let out an animalistic snarl, glaring hard at the femme seeker in front of him. She froze where she stood, letting out a frightened gasp. That was when the mech struck, jumping at her with savage scream, his talons digging into her face and snapping his dentals at her. 

Starbreaker screamed in terror. This monster was her nephew?! Impossible! This was a beast – a savage! He was screaming and snarling, biting at her and trying to claw her optics out. She tried to yank him off of her, but no matter how hard she tugged, he would just scream and jump on her again. 

“Get off of me!” she screamed, trying to throw him on the floor. “Let go!”

But Novabomb only held on tighter. He continued to hold on, clawing into his aunt’s helm and drawing blood from her. He was able to bite off her left helm fin, spitting it out before snapping at the wirings and circuits. She stumbled backwards, howling in agony as she tried to throw him off of her. 

He was absolutely wild. Snarling and growling, screaming out like some bestial animal – his only intent was too kill and kill he would. It was instinct, with perhaps a pinch of lunacy. Or was it actually rationality? No one could be certain as Novabomb bit down hard into her neck cables, wanting to do nothing more than paint the walls with her blood. 

She screamed in pain and, with one final tug, she was able to throw him off of her. He went flying through the air, crashing through the wall and into his living room. Starbreaker grabbed the knife, running straight into the next room. The sparkling was already getting back to his pedes, blood dripping down from the helm injury he got from hitting the wall. But he continued to snarl and seemed unaffected by what just happened.

“You’re a monster!” she screamed, pointing the blade in her right servo at the youngling. “You and your family…! Nothing but sick and depraved monsters!”

Novabomb gave a savage roar, jumping at her as she held up the bloody knife. He clawed into her right arm, biting hard at the wrist. She howled in pain, dropping the knife to the floor and jerking her arm so the mech went down onto the ground. His reached for the knife and, with a crazed smile, he threw the knife at the femme in front of him, just like his father had taught him to do during training lessons. 

Starbreaker froze, entire body stiffening in pain. The blade had hit right in between her optics, piercing into her processor. Her mouth fell agape as her optics locked on her nephew, who was just staring at her with a crazed smile, his optics absolutely bestial. It was the last thing she saw as her vision went black, her systems shutting down.

Novabomb panted hard, white optics still locked on the seeker as she fell backwards, landing with a hard thud on a pile of debris. Slowly, he crawled over to her. He stretched out his servo and touched her helm, getting blood on it. He stared at it for the longest time before his gaze fell to his own body. He was covered in scars, dents, and blood. Some of it was his, some of it was hers, and some of it was even his parents. 

The sparkling let out a soft moan, blinking a few times. His optics slowly faded back to their normal red shade. He could see again, no longer seeing dreams or illusions of his parents. He was brought back to reality, the bloody destruction greeting his sights. But he didn’t know if they were real or if he was still dreaming. He weakly looked over, seeing his father on the floor. He turned his helm again, seeing his mother in her own pool of blood. Then he looked down at his aunt, her shocked and pained expression was all he could see. 

He suddenly felt dizzy, the room spinning. There was so much blood and his body hurt. Was this real? Was it a dream? He felt himself try to climb to his pedes, but he failed, falling to the ground with a haggard cry. 

He heard sirens in the distance, but he didn’t pay attention to them. He was still too focused on whether or not what had happened was real. It didn’t seem real… It had to be an illusion. He closed his optics, thinking that it was just a dream; when he woke up, everything would be normal again. 

Everything would be just fine.

Chapter Text

Dear me

i think i finally fownd owt why im still pretty sane. Like, im not a totul freek like sum peepole here. I mean I kno im not healthy but i dont think im that crazy. Sum peepole cant go for 2 seconds without mumbling or crying to themselfs. Kinda freeky. But yeah, im sane. Well saner. 

I think its becuz of this jurnull pad Nightstorm gave me wen I furst got here. Its not like there arnt a lot of mecks arond here mi age. I shuld maybe be crazyer then the rest of them. But im not. Im ok. 

Agan i think its becuz of Nightstorm and this jurnull pad. He gave it to me wen he became mi therupist. He says it was so i culd practiss mi riteing and stuff. He says ive impruved, but i dont really kno. Well, at least i can rite and read a littel. Sum bots here cant do that at oll.

But i think he gave it to me so i wuldnt go insane. Mi jurnull is mi frend i think. I dont have any frends here but Nightstorm but hes a adolt and im not. So i gess we cant really be colled frends, even tho i like him becuz hes nice.

This jurnull gives me sumwon to tolk to. Miself, i gess, but at least its sumone. A pretend sumwon. i dont have a rumemate. No won dus here, wich is wy i think peepole go crazy. They dont have no won to tolk to. They dont have trust. Thats wat Nightstorm says. Wen peepole dont trust no won they go crazy. Thats kinda scary, rite? I think so.

But im not like them. I trust Nightstorm and mi jurnull. We tolk to each uther and i trust him a hole lot. I really really like him. Hes nice to me and hes olways trying to help me. Im olways souper happy to see him. 

Im scared tho. Scared that i mite be like them won day. Like the mecks arond here. The mumbling, the crying… wat if that happens to me to? It happened to oll of them. It culd happen to me to.

Nightstorm says dont worry about it. Im not like them and that wont happen to me. I wanna beleve him but i dont kno if i can. He says it wont happen to me, but im here. Ive heard the uther doctors. I dont belong here. Im not suposted to be here. Its sad that im here. Stuff like that.

I dont kno wat they really mean but i wen i think abot it i think i do. Its kinda hard to explain. I kno i dont fit in. Im not like evrywon else. Im littel and a sparkling. Im not an adolt. I dont belong here.

But i think ill be ok. I dont think ill go insane. I think ill be fine.

At least i think i will.

Chapter Text

They keep me in this big white room with one door and no windows. I don't understand why they keep me in here, strapped down to this chair. The pretty doctor says we're going to play a game today. To test out how my mind works. 

I like games. Mom and Dad said I was always good at them. I miss them. No one will tell me what happened to them or who killed them. They say they're all ready gone, that I did it.

I don't even remember what I did. 

The pretty doctor takes off the straps around my wrists and ankles. It feels much better than before. I don't like being strapped down with people poking at me and watching me. I don't feel like a person anymore. I feel like something else, but I can't really say what. 

The pretty doctor takes me out of the room and down the hallway. I don't like walking in this place. All the other bots here are scary. They all have these looks in their optics, like they're scared of something. I think something's wrong with them. They're all adults too.

I think I'm the only sparkling in the entire place. 

She leads me to a room. A big shiny silver room with one big light in the middle of it. There's a big machine with a chair next to it. She tells me to sit in the chair so we can play the game. I giddily obey because I like games. Games are fun. Games are good. 

She hooks me up to the machine and behind her, two guards and another doctor come inside the room. I winch back and bite my bottom lip. I don't like the other doctor. There's something about him that's scary. He has this look in his optics like he wants to hurt me. It's scary. Really scary. I tried to tell the pretty doctor about it once but she says it's not good to make up stories.

But it isn't a story – it's the truth. 

The pretty doctor leaves the room and into the one next door. There a big glass window for her to look through and watch. The two guards stand at the door, keeping their optics locked on me when the scary doctor approaches. 

"Novabomb, how are you feeling today?"

"Good sir." 

He likes it when I call him sir. I don't know why but it makes his optics brighten up even more dangerously. 

"Wonderful. Now today… We're going to run a test on you. But don't worry – it shouldn't hurt…" Then he walked over to me and whispered, "At least not too much." His glossa darts out and licks over the side of my helm.

I don't understand why but I don't like when he does that. It feels gross. He does that a lot during some of our sessions. He licks my face or touches my wings or thighs. He says it's to make me feel better and it's a special healing treatment that I can't tell other people about. I don't like the treatment though. It feels really gross and I get really uncomfortable when he does it. 

He walks over to the big machine and turns it on. I don't know what it's doing but my body feels funny. My stomach squeezes a bit and I feel kind of dizzy.

"I don't feel good," I say softly.

The scary doctor gives a scary smile and he leans in close to me. Too close. No one else can see what he's doing as he whispers to me, "Shh… It's just a game. And don't worry. I'll make you feel better."

One of his servos is at my thigh and he rubs it. It feels weird and it makes me feel even sicker. The machine starts making my body feel weird, really warm even. I flinch back when his servo moves from my thigh to my cable plating. I look up at him, confused and startled and scared.

He smirked as he rubbed up against it, making me feel even worse. There's a pain in my helm now and it won't go away. 

"S-Sir…!" I plead softly "St-Stop…! I feel sick…! Sir! I-I don't like this game!"

"Shh… Don't worry. It'll feel better soon." 

He rubs over it more firmly, which makes everything hurt and feel weird and makes me feel sicker. My whole body is shaking and that pain in my helm just keeps getting worse and worse. I feel really sick and scared. I want to go home. Go home with Mom and Dad who aren't here anymore because the bad people got them and the bad people are gone and no one will tell me where. 

Then I remember what Mom used to tell me when she was still alive. 

"Close your optics, Novabomb. Close your optics and go to your happy place and don't think of anything. Go to your happy place and everything bad will go away."

I do what Mom used to say and close my optics and try to block out everything. It's hard at first because all I feel is pain and sickness and nothing I do is working. I keep thinking harder and harder, which makes my helm hurt more and more. The sickness is getting worse and worse, but I'm trying so hard to find that happy place. 

That one place where I'm safe.

Then, just like that, everything easily fades away. I don't hear anything or feel anything anymore. No sickness, no pain, and not that scary doctor's servo. I open my optics and see Mom and Dad. They're waiting for me, stretching out their arms to me. I'm at my house again. I run to them and tell them I miss them. I really miss them.

They're saying something to me, but I don't know what but it doesn't really matter because they're here. They're here and they're hugging and kissing me, telling me they love me. Everything's okay now. I'm safe and away from that scary doctor and that painful machine. Everything's fine.

Except when I look down at my servos and body, it's covered in energon. 

I blink a few times and suddenly, I hear screaming and shouting, but I don't know where it's coming from. The screams are pained and horrified, but I still don't know where they're from. Mom and Dad are gone and I'm not in my house anymore. I don't know where I am for a minute as everything's fuzzy and black. 

Except me – I'm practically covered in energon. 

I blink again, noting that the pain is still gone and so is the sickness. The servo on my thigh isn't there anymore either. In fact, I'm not even sitting down – I'm standing up on something sticky. 

My vision finally comes back to me and I look around, noting I am back in the room again. But everything is so much different. The room is covered in energon, both the floor and the walls. The two guards are on the floor, bite marks on their necks, which energon is pouring out of. I think they're dead. I look down and see the scary doctor with multiple scratches and stabbing wounds on his chassis, stabbing wounds that came from sharp fingers. 

Sharp fingers like mine.

I think he's dead too. There's no color on him anymore. Just energon.

I run my glossa over my teeth, which tastes like mech blood. The door bursts open and the pretty doctor and a bunch of other guards come rushing into the room, their weapons pointed at me. I don't know why either. They all look at me like I'm dangerous, like I'm a wild animal.

The pretty doctor walks over to me, shaking violently. I look at her, titling my helm a bit. "Why?" I ask softly. "Why is there so much blood everywhere? Did something happen?"

She just stares at me like I'm crazy. So do the other guards.

I look at them. "What happened?" I asked again, taking a step towards one. 

But he freaks out and growls, "Get back! Don't come near me!"

My optics widen and I bite my bottom lip, walking back as ordered. He looks really scared as he's looking at me. Like he thinks I'm going to attack him or something. I don't get it, but I listen and look down at my pedes, which are also covered in blood.

I think I did it. I'm guessing I did it because everyone looks so scared of me and three mechs are dead and I have mech blood all over me. But I don't remember doing it, so I couldn't have done it. I don't even know what happened. I went to my happy place like Mom told me and when I woke up, everyone was dead. 

I couldn't have done it.

Still, I think I did it. 

The funny thing is though, I don't feel bad. I didn't like that doctor. He was scary and he was making me sick. The guards were mean too, so I didn't feel bad. Mom and Dad had always said that killing can be a good thing if done for the sake of safety.

It's not murder if it's self-defense. 

I look up at the pretty doctor and smile, showing her my blood-stained dentals. She looks sick, but I just keep smiling. "Doctor… I don't really like this game. Do I have to play again?"

"N-No…" she stammers.

I smile even brighter. 

I think I won the game.

Chapter Text

Nebula stood behind the wall, peaking out a bit as she watched the front door open, Asteroid coming into the house with several of those Parliament members behind him.  The servants came over to them and led them toward the dining room, which made her frown a bit. Great. They were staying for dinner. She hated when Asteroid brought home his stupid friends. They were loud, especially when they got drunk. And that one mech friend of his, Acid Pit, was creepy. He was always trying to talk to her and was always looking at her. She didn't like it. 

Starlight wasn't much better when Asteroid brought over company. She would go out there to entertain and she would act all funny. Like, she'd sit on the other mechs' laps and kiss them and everything. It wasn't exactly something she wanted to see, but Asteroid always called her out there, as if to present her to them. Sometimes though, the older maidbot Sunbeam would usher her away into the kitchen, as if to save her from what she knew she hated.

Nebula loved Sunbeam. Primus, she saw Sunbeam more as her mother than she did Starlight, who actually gave birth to her. But unlike her parents, Sunbeam paid attention to her; she practically raised her. She didn't just simply usher her away or tell her "Later." She allowed her to follow her around the house while she did her chores, Nebula sometimes helping her out. Nebula enjoyed being around Sunbeam. Sometimes, it would slip her mind and Nebula would actually call her mom, though the older femme didn't seem to mind it.

Sadly though, Sunbeam wasn't on duty that evening, so there was no one to save her if her father suddenly decided to call her in. Just as she was about to retreat to her room, she bumped into Acid Pit, who seemed just as shock as she did when they collided. At least the mech wasn't drunk, but it didn't exactly make her feel good to be alone with him. She wanted to run, but he suddenly clamped a servo down on her shoulder, holding her in place. 

He smiled brightly, which creeped her out a little. "Nebula, good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

She shrugged. "Don't know - haven't really thought about it."

The older mech laughed once. "What a glossa you have... Why aren't you in the dining room with all of us?"

The mech with a hundred questions. Great. Aside from him being a creep, this mech was also always so curious and asking stupid questions. Still, as rude as she wanted to be to him, he was her superior in more ways than one. She had to find away to get away from him, especially when his servo slowly moved from her shoulder to her arm. 

"I wasn't called in," she said, stepping back from him and toward the direction of her room. "Also, I'm pretty tired. I've been playing around in the yard all day."

"Ah you poor thing," he muttered. "Would you like me to escort you to your room?"

Nebula shuddered at the thought. There was something this mech wanted from her and she knew it wouldn't be pleasant for her. He was just too friendly. It was like he wanted to hurt her from the way he was looking at her. It made her skin crawl with disgust. She may have been just a sparkling, but even she could see something was amiss. She had tried telling Starlight about it, but she said not to worry about it. 

Only Sunbeam had cautioned her about the mech. She told her to run if anything seemed to be too dangerous, too scary. Right now, she was certainly taking that advice to the spark since Acid Pit was really starting to scare her. 

She shook her helm. "I'm okay. Thanks." Then she turned around and ran down the hallway, leaving him there as she headed toward her room. She looked over her shoulder, relieved that he wasn't following her. She let out a shaky breath and opened the door to her room, rushing inside before closing and locking the door behind her. 

Nebula wished Sunbeam was here. It would be so much less scary. But she wasn't. The only people she could go to for any kind of help were her father and mother, but they were as useless as rocks. Besides, she doubted that they would care about her plight. Acid Pit was a fellow, high ranking Parliament member. To jeopardize his position in any way, even if it was for their own daughter's safety, probably would have been out of the question. When facing up against others, she was always on her own. 

She crawled up onto her berth, pulling the sheets over her body and snuggling into the pillow. Sunbeam had made her berth fresh this morning, so the scent of fresh sheets was still apparent. It also smelled like her. 

She loved Sunbeam. Sunbeam cared about her. Sunbeam showed her love when she had the chance. Nebula didn't need Starlight. The femme wasn't her real mother. She didn't care about anyone but herself. When Sunbeam came back to the house tomorrow, everything would be better.

Sunbeam always made everything better. 

Chapter Text

It was terrifying. 

It was worse than anything he had been through in the asylum. Worse than the tests. Worse than having medication forced into his systems. He didn't want to believe it, but even he understood that denying it was useless, meaningless.

He liked mechs. He didn't like femmes, at all.

Novabomb was on his berth, shaking violently as he continued to think about it. Primus, this couldn't be happening to him. He always knew something was off. He always knew he was different from the other patients, who would talk about fucking the hot femme nurses and doctors. They would talk about how sexy they looked and how much they turned them on.

Novabomb never thought such things about the femmes. Femmes never did anything for him, which was strange. Before he fully realized it himself, what others were thinking of femmes, he was thinking of the mechs. Not just the doctors either. Even some of the patients he found himself drawn to.

And once he realized who and what he liked, he panicked. He couldn't like mechs. He was a mech! He was supposed to like femmes! He knew this, and yet he still found himself sexually attracted to mechs. He didn't want to be. His parents were murdered because they liked femmes instead of mechs! His aunt hated them so much… She couldn't have been the only one either. There were others out there who hated mechs loving mechs and femmes loving femmes. 

What if people knew? What if those kind of people found out about him, about who and what he liked? The seeker buried his face into his pillow, fisting the sheets beneath him and kicking his legs. He didn't want to die! He didn't want to be killed like his parents were!

That night… He didn't remember everything, but he remembered Starbreaker breaking into their home. He remembered the screams, the blood. His parents' corpses on the floor, his aunt's optics locked on him… Then the next thing he remembered was him covered in her blood, her body now lying dead on the floor. 

Novabomb shuddered at the thought, pushing in face further into the pillow, trying to push those thoughts back. But it was too hard. That kind of carnage had happened simply because his parents were both femmes. Not even because of their line of work. Just because they liked femmes instead of mechs. 

To think that the hate people felt over something as simple as that could lead to murder was terrifying. Novabomb knew there was nothing wrong with it. His parents had been happy and they loved each other. Not to mention it wasn't against the law or anything. Overall, Cybertron accepted homosexuality. But there were those cults who thought it was a sin, who thought it was disgusting. They would do anything to get rid of people like that, kill them even.

It wasn't wrong, but he was afraid. If it would get him killed, he didn't want to be gay. He didn't want people to hate him, didn't want them to have the desire to kill simply because of his sexual orientation. He didn't want to be killed. He'd rather lie to himself and pretend to like femmes than die at the hands of those who hated him simply because he was attracted to mechs.  

Primus only knew whether or not those types of people resided here. He was in an asylum – the patients here were all insane in some way. And he had heard some people talk, some people say how fags were a nuisance, were disgusting. It would be better if they were dead. 

It was the kind of talk that made him want to cower in his room and never come out. But regulation and Doctor Nightstorm wouldn't allow it. He needed to socialize, needed to build those skills for the real world, if he ever went out there. So when he was out there, he forced himself to pretend. Many times, he tried to find femmes attractive. He just couldn't. He didn't like them. He liked mechs and because he did, he was horrified others would find out.

He just didn't want to die for something he couldn't change. Was it really such a crime to some people to be a homosexual? Apparently it was and because of that, he was terrified. He couldn't let anyone know. Not even his doctors. He had to keep it a secret.

It seemed as if it would be the only way to guarantee his safety.

Chapter Text

Bombrush could only stare at the sight before him and he wasn't sure how to feel. If anything, he felt numb as he watched his son hold his dead mother, cradling her lifeless body in his trembling arms. He had his face buried in her chassis, letting out choked sobs as her blood stained his body and the floor of their home.

Finally, Bombrush opened his mouth to speak. "Bloodshed… Let go of her."

The red mech flinched, his sobs stopping as he simply gripped his mother even tighter. Bombrush's voice was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. Primus, he had come home to find his mother with his throat slashed open... With her letter asking them to be happ now that they were free of her. Because Bombrush made her feel like a burden. Made his How dare his beautiful mother who gave him love and reason to be there... She hadn't been perfect, he knew this, but she had been his everything...

And it was Bombrush's fault she had been taken away from him.  

Bombrush swallowed, stepping closer as he forced himself to control his own emotions. There was a lot he wanted to scream, a lot he wanted to say... But he knew Bloodshed didn't think he deserved to feel anything. His son was the one hurting. He needed to be there for him. 

"Bloodshed... She just-"

"Shut up!" the adolescent mech yelled, glaring up at him with tears rolling down his faceplates. "This is all your fault! You murdered her! You fucking murdered her!"

"Bloodshed, listen to me–"

"No!" he shouted. "You caused this! You're the reason she killed herself! Everything's your fucking fault!"

Bombrush felt rage and hurt swelling within him. He knew he hadn't been a good father. Or a good husband. But he tried. He had always tried to take care of them. Even if he had done much wrong... everything he did was for them. All he wanted to do was to care for them and provide for them. He had always planned to be with Pixela until the day they both died, but now... He couldn't. Because she had killed herself. By her own decision.

He didn't force this upon her or his son. He didn't cause this...

"You're the scum of Cybertron!" he snarled with complete and utter rage. Bloodshed gently set down his mother's body before storming up to the other, shaking in rage. "It's because of you she was miserable – why I am miserable! She didn't deserve a bastard like you!"

Bombrush could only glare murderously down at his son's uncontrollable fury. He couldn't blame the young mech for being furious and upset, but he understood nothing. He had no idea how hard it was seeing his mate like this. How much he wanted to scream and shout and plead with Primus to bring her back. But this is what she had wanted. Because she didn't want to hurt her family anymore. 

She just couldn't stand it anymore. She thought she had been hurting her son, her family. He knew Pixela felt like she was a burden... His drunken rants never helped either. Maybe he was partly to blame. Maybe Bloodshed was right.

But, damn it, he loved her so much, whether the feeling was romantic or not. He never wanted this to happen. He had promised to make her happy, but in the end, she killed herself. Maybe Pixela didn't deserve him. That didn't mean he wanted to hear it. He had done so much and then this happened.

The agonizing and overwhelming guilt and despair was too much.

"I hate you!" Bloodshed screamed, standing over Pixela's body defensively, as though to protect her carcass if Bombrush came close. "I swear – I'll fucking kill you! I'll put you through what you've put me and her through! Then you'll understand how fucked up of a father you are!"

Bombrush grabbed his son by the neck cables and lifted him off the floor. The youngling choked and clawed at the older mech's arm as he was yanked toward him. 

"You think you and her were the only ones that suffered?" he growled, his optics glowing bright red with rage. "Damn it, you have no idea what I've been through because of her! I loved her, Bloodshed! You think I wanted this?! I loved your mother!"

"Obviously not enough since you murdered her!"

Bombrush smacked his hard across the cheek plating with a clenched fist, causing him to hit the floor hard and groan in pain. "You understand nothing!"

"I understand enough to know that you killed her!"

Pure rage overtook the older mech as he grabbed him again and threw him across the room, sending him crashing into another wall. Bloodshed let out a cry of pain, but that didn't stop Bombrush from rushing over to him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming his fist into his body. Bloodshed kicked back and screamed furious profanities at him as he was unable to do anything else.

"I hate you! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you and give you what you deserve!"

"Then do it!" Bombrush snarled, shoving him against the door. "See if you can! I dare you!"

Bloodshed shook his helm furiously and ran out their home, slamming the door behind him in rage, almost breaking it. Bombrush just stood there, trying to regain his senses back as he stared at his servos, which were coated with Bloodshed's red paint and Pixela's blood.

He slowly turned to look down at the femme on the floor, walking over to her before kneeling down next to her. Very gingerly, he wrapped his arms around her frame and pressed her against his chassis. Primus, she was so cold... So lifeless and cold... The agonizing emotions he had been holding back suddenly flooded his processor and spark as he began to tremble.

He shakily laughed once as he stroked her bloody helm. "Is this what you wanted, Pixela...? Is this what you thought was best? Are you happy now…? Are you happy with what's happened?"

He knew he was talking to no one, but damn it, he was so furious and upset and confused that he didn't care. He just continued to stroke her helm, his vocalizer cracking as the pain of losing her began to hit him. 

"You're gone now... Just like you wanted… Are you happy now? Now that Bloodshed hates me…? Wants me dead…? Are you happy now that you're dead?"

Then, when no one answered, he buried his face into her neck and wept, unable to do anything else.

Chapter Text

Novabomb sat quietly in his room, throwing the ball against the wall and having it bounce back into his servo. He continued to do it quietly, allowing himself to become drenched in his thoughts.

Adolescence was a bitch. Hormones and everything were now starting to pile onto him, thus screwing with him and his medication. It was annoying, to say the very least, but at least the doctors were nice about it, especially his therapist. He was the best… in more ways than one. 

Nightstorm was a good mech, a handsome mech. Novabomb had noticed this almost right away. Hell, after that first doctor that would molest him, this mech was like a blessing. He actually cared about his patients, or at least pretended to, which was always nice. Of course, it was sometimes hard to do session with him since Novabomb's hormones were always raging. Sometimes all he could think about was kissing him and fuck him. 

When in the showers, the other patients would talk about femmes; some would get really nasty as to what they wish they could do. Quite a few had a supply of those pornographic datapads. As to how they got them, Novabomb had no clue. However, two mechs came up to him and gave him some of the datapads. They had once been his age; it was about time he started becoming a real mech. He didn't want to be rude to them so he accepted them. 

He had tried looking over them several times and for the others, he supposed he could understand why this was arousing. The femmes in it were in such slutty and exposing positions. But no matter what, he simply could not get hard or get off from the imagines. If anything, he felt disgusted with the idea of sleeping with one of those femmes. Or any femme really. Something about them made him want to throw up.

He didn't trust femmes nor did he like them. The only femmes he liked were his parents and his therapist's assistant. And the love he felt was obviously not of the sexual kind. His love was a form of trust. Of course, his parents were dead and the assistant was hardly ever around for him to really talk to her. But every other femme he just did not like. They were disgusting. They didn't care about anyone else but their own personal agenda. Others are damned in their minds. That was how he viewed them.

Maybe his view was warped because of what happened. Nightstorm had told him that he was the killer of his parents' murderer, who was his aunt. Apparently that cult she was part of drove her to think that his parents, who were both femmes, were sins and wastes to Cybertron and had to kill them. From his own conclusion, his therapist said that because his parents were killed right in front of him, it triggered the basic primal coding that all Cybertronians possessed as he was just a sparkling and his processor systems weren't as developed. Had he been older, his brief psychotic disorder may have not have come into being. 

That didn't exactly do his any good emotionally when he found out the truth. It was even worse since he couldn't remember anything about such an incident occurring. Nightstorm may have said that was only natural, but he sure as hell didn't enjoy suffering from Dissociative Amnesia in regards to the incident.

Recently though, he started having dreams. Or perhaps they were memories. He wasn't sure, but they seemed to be random fragments of something. There was so much blood, always so much blood. There was screaming. There was psychotic laughter. Everything was so red with body parts scattered everywhere. And sometimes he would catch glimpses of his aunt's face just before she died, his blood on her servos. 

Novabomb hadn't told Nightstorm him of the dreams and he didn't want to tell him. Not yet. He just wanted everything to come back before it was psycho-analyzed and whatnot. He knew that he resented his aunt for destroying his family and making him a freak. In a way, he was angry at his parents too. They were contract killers, for Primus's sake, but the two femmes that he adored couldn't fend for themselves from a lunatic like his aunt. 

There were weak femmes. There were femmes who only thought about themselves. Maybe not all femmes were like that, but he just knew enough that plenty were. The idea of their bodies being pressed up against his was enough to make him vomit. 

Mechs weren't like that though. Mechs made him excited. The thought of one of those stronger bodies up against his was enough to make him hard. He didn't hate mechs. Hell, it was how he got off. 

He heard the door unlock behind him just as the ball bounced back into his servo. He turned around, seeing Nightstorm standing there with two guards behind him with a smile on his face.

"Come on, Novabomb – you have tests to do today, remember?"

Novabomb smiled brightly and nodded. Primus, just looking at the mech was making his hormones soar out of control. But he pushed that thought away as he stood up; he didn't want to get a hard-on now, did he? He could wait until he was alone for that.

Chapter Text

The cup slipped from her servos and fell to the floor, the shattering of the glass breaking the stunned silence as Nebula stared at her father, optics wide with shock and horror. He just stared at her with an apathetic expression, Starlight's optics on the hands in her lap. 

"You… what?" Nebula said, unable to comprehend what her father had just said. 

"I said that Sunbeam has been fired," he repeated, resting back in his chair. "The femme was getting too old to continue doing housework. So, after giving her one final pay, I fired her and told her it that it was time for everyone to move on."

She stared at her father in disbelief as she remained standing. Sunbeam had been fired? The only bot in the entire world who actually seemed to give a damn about her was gone? She had just gotten home from yet another boring day of school and all she had wanted to do was talk to her about it. Sunbeam had always listened to her, had always been more of a mother than Starlight would ever be. But instead of talking to her, her father had pulled her into the parlor where he and her mother were sitting and gave her this news. It was news she never wanted to hear, news she never expected to hear.

Swallowing, her servos balling into fists, she growled, "When did you fire her?"

"Two days ago. But I allowed her to stay until her last paycheck. As I said, it was time to move on."

Bullshit. Time to move on? Sunbeam wasn't even that old! She was just older than him! Yes - she wasn't as spry as she used to be, but she could do housework perfectly fine! Why would her father fire her-

Then her optics widened. Her father could give a shit about if a maidbot could clean up around the house. Asteroid was scum and the only thing that bastard was interested was look, was sexual appeal so he could harass the maids. All of the femme maids in the house were young, with a few exceptions of course. One of them had been Sunbeam, but not anymore. Primus only knew how long it would be until those femmes would be fired. Shaking her helm, she flashed a murderous glare at her father and growled, "You disgust me."

Asteroid's optics widened in shock, staring at her along with Starlight, who had also looked up. Then his expression hardened. "Excuse me, but who do you think you are? Talking to me like that... I am your father, femme. You will show me respect."

Respect? Respect?! This mech didn't deserve any respect, especially not from her. He was never a father to her. He treated her like he treated everyone else - as if she was beneath him. She would never treat someone like him with respect, the scumbag. Especially not after firing and getting rid of the only bot in her life who cared.

"You don't deserve it!" she snarled. "You're disgusting... You only fired her because you didn't think she was hot enough to fondle with. I know what you do to some of the femme servants here! I'm not stupid like her!" She pointed at her mother, who just stiffened in shock. "You may have her fooled, but not me. I know who you really are... And it's fucking pathetic."

Asteroid's cheeks burning in anger and he rose from his chair, walking and towering over her, though the purple femme just glared back at him, obviously not intimidated by his weak stature. Did he really think he was all that powerful and terrifying? The mech was a pussy - she knew he could never do anything in a fight. He'd run away screaming. Only reason why he was acting tough now was because she was his daughter and just a femme. How pathetic. 

"You apologize to me now," he snarled. "I am your father."

"You're the shittiest father a bot could have," she said. "You don't even know who I am... You just know I share the same blood as you and that's it. You don't care about me... All you get about is yourself. And you only fired Sunbeam not because she was having trouble working... You fired her because you didn't think she was a good enough fuck anymore!"

A hard slap came to her cheek and she stumbled back, not expecting it. She gave out a sharp hiss, clutching her cheek tightly as she tried to keep her balance. She looked over to see that Starlight had stood up, staring at her family with her mouth slightly agape. Then she glared back up at her Asteroid, who just stared hard at her and growled, "You are my daughter. You don't get to speak to me that way."

"You know it's the truth... You just can't accept it." She then shook her helm and laughed once. "I bet you did this to spite me... You knew I loved her more than either of you and you didn't like it. So you got rid of her... Because you're a pathetic little mech."

Breathing hard, expression twisted with rage, Asteroid turned away from her. "You idolized her too much. She was just a maid."

"I had to look up to someone because it wasn't like my parens were there for me... If anything, she's my real mother. You two are just here." Then she shook her helm, knowing it was meaningless. Sunbeam was gone and she would never see her again. Nebula stormed out of the room, not even stopping when Starlight called out to her.

There were tears in her optics. Not because she had been hit, oh Primus no. That wasn't even bothering her cheek anymore. It was because the only bot who cared, the only one who had ever made her feel safe and loved was gone. To make it even more painful, Nebula didn't even get the chance to say goodbye to her. Sunbeam was gone before anything could be said, any thanks could be given. That was what hurt the most.

She just wished she had said goodbye, if nothing else.