DeathDeath7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
For all his professional demeanor, Ratchet cant stand to lose patients. You cant realize what it puts him through. No one can. Hell never tell.
The only reason Ive been privy to this bit of knowledge was because I found out by accident. A literal accident, actually. We used to work with this mech who was quite fond of anything that exploded and well, its a long story. So, was I surprised to walk into the temp base and find a blade at my neck? Absolutely not.
Ratchet stood there, stock still, his arm around my neck and his weapon unwavering. I just stopped and waited. It was like this sometimes and this time was probably going to be worse. I could disarm him, turn the situation around in a nano-click but itd only serve to make things harder. A lot harder. And harder is not something Ratchet needed
H2OH2OH2O7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Rust, apparently, was the bane of Ironhides existence. Everyone who met him was quick to discover that the trigger-happy old warrior had issues with any substance that even looked remotely like oxidized metal. Technical Sergeant Epps was no exception.
It was a normal day for the human as he walked into the secluded and low key aircraft hanger. It was even normal to hear the insistent arguments between two giant and colorful robots sitting across from one another at a similarly giant table. Ironhide was, of course, grousing about the potential for metal deterioration and the constant threat of fluids in systems that needed no such liquids. Ratchet, on the other hand, looked more put off at the idea of arguing over this -again- and was constantly prattling off the nearly rehearsed lines of his counterargument. It was like a play that never ended. Today, however, something caught the Sergean