Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Before the war, the Syntaxicons were nothing more than simple clerks whose job was to correct the language in insurance claims and file them away. It was a simple life; it’s where the Syntaxicons had met and fallen in love. They enjoyed being the backbone of their company. How would their coworkers do their jobs if the reports they needed were all incorrectly formatted? It’s simple; they wouldn’t be able to since they wouldn’t have access to the information they needed. The Syntaxicons were never appreciated for their work, though. 

They had been constantly made fun of. Others would make cruel remarks about their jobs or about their alt-modes. What kind of Transformer would choose office supplies as an alt-mode? What a waste of a T-Cog. This treatment is why, when Megatron gave his speeches about every Transformer being equal, the Syntaxicons listened. He’d spoken about how only the content of one’s spark should matter. That all Transformers were equal. It’s all the Syntaxicons had ever wanted to hear.

When they joined the Decepticons, they were put into one of Shockwave’s experiments. That’s where they gained the name Syntaxicons. Shockwave wanted to figure out how to create a combiner without the use of the Enigma of Combination. They needed a group of people who were already close, since it made for a more stable combiner. Their combined form, Capslock, had not worked out, though. He simply did not follow orders.

So the Syntaxicons were reassigned to a more familiar role, which was doing the Decepticon’s reports. It had been easy at first. The Cause was small, but as it grew, their work became more demanding, and their department didn’t grow along with it. All that work was completely loaded onto the shoulders of merely 6 cons. They were given impossible deadlines and were not allowed to see any of the other Decepticons until they completed everything.  The problem was that there was no way they’d ever catch up, and even after many years in service to the Cause, they were still nowhere close. 

— 

CTRL was helping Backspace organize a datapad cart that was going to be filed away within the Decepticon Archives. As soon as he was done, he was dragged to the other side of the room in order to help Misclick and Typo access the terminal. CTRL was a computer monitor, while Misclick and Typo were the computer mouse and keyboard, respectively.

It took all three of them to reformat the reports correctly. Once that was done, they sent them over the Ellipses, who would print the data onto empty datapads. When Backspace came back from filing things away, he’d either put them on the cart for storage or shred the files as needed. If someone requested a file, Bracket would find it amongst the shelves and staple it together with any others, so that he could send them to the proper place. 

They had been doing this same routine for Solar-Cycles, maybe a Vorn or two. The Syntaxicons had no way to tell the time or date, and the reports they worked with didn’t have any indication either. Not that they had time to really wonder how long it had been since they started. Their time was usually filled with stressfully trying to complete all of the never-ending requests they received.

File this, fix that, send that to, get rid of, etc. They woke up early and went to recharge late, but they were always behind the demand. CTRL, as the head of the department, had made several requests to Shockwave for backup, but all he’d get in response was that it wasn’t logical. The stress was only bearable because they didn’t have the choice to crumble. If isolation was the punishment for being behind on deadlines, he didn’t want to know what it would be when they finally broke. 

It’s a miracle that their relationship has survived. There was not much downtime to kiss, say sweet nothings, or honestly just exist with each other without having work hanging over their helms. CTRL could see the light drain from his love's optics. He’d escape with them if he could. Though there’s nowhere to go. Cybertron is completely under Decepticon rule, and Shockwave has an iron grip over everything. It was an unfortunate situation; they’d all changed so much.

Ellipses had always been a quiet mech. It was because he was very shy, but he was so sweet when he did speak. Ellipses had such a pleasing voice. He never spoke anything that wasn’t insightful, or, when they were off work, so incredibly flattering they’d make CTRL blush. Now, Ellipses was silent instead; what had been a nervousness to talk was replaced with a lack of things to say. He was just hollow.

Backspace was a very particular mech. He had always strived to achieve perfection. It was how Backspace showed he cared about what he was doing. Backspace had always chosen the most thoughtful gifts and written the most beautiful poems. He didn’t have time for that now. His perfectionism became an obsession, and now Backspace was always anxious about making a single mistake.

Bracket was always a friendly mech. He loved people, and he loved making them happy. Bracket had kept a journal of things like their favorite colors, songs, or flavors, so he could randomly surprise them. That need to feel like he made people happy had become his only solace now. Bracket would need reassurance that the other Syntaxicons were happy with him.

Typo had always been a very trusting mech. Some might’ve even called him gullible. Typo would look at you with the most trusting optics, and he’d listen carefully to whatever you said to remember it for later. CTRL felt bad for Typo because Typo seemed to still believe that the Cause still had his best interest in mind after all the Syntaxicons had said so.

Misclick was always a dreamer. His helm was always somewhere else, imagining something up. A significant amount of said time was spent coming up with some cliche pick-up line to throw them off and make them blush. Misclick didn’t flirt anymore. He didn’t have time to imagine now. He was too focused on work.

CTRL would have to speak for himself. He’d noticed that what had been natural leadership skills turned into a need to be in control. The other Syntaxicons had complained a lot about him not listening to them anymore. It was a difficult situation. He loved them so much, but his only hope right now would be getting caught up. If they got caught up with the reports, they’d be allowed the time to spend with each other.

Though deep down in his spark, CTRL knew that it probably wouldn’t happen. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t happening. They’d be filing away reports until they died. The last thing they’d ever see would be each other and these blank walls. Maybe they’d all go crazy and have to be removed before then. He’d completely given up.

Chapter Text

The Autobot spies had gotten word of a secret weapon that Shockwave was developing. Well, he was always developing a weapon, but this one had piqued the spies’ interest. Ultra Magnus and the other Wreckers hadn’t been given much information other than the location they’d be breaching and the file name, EXW-SHW-008917-3A. With a name like that, he was glad that Blurr had super speed; otherwise, they’d never find it. 

The Wreckers were going to be sneaking into the Decepticon Archives, where they kept physical copies of every single file in their system. Since it included everything, it would be heavily guarded, but the archives themselves are automated with almost no cameras. If they could sneak past the guards, they’d have all the time in the world to find the file; they’d also been told to grab anything else that looked interesting.

Luckily, they did manage despite some of his subordinates' efforts. Arcee had incapacitated a guard, and they had to hide the body. A Decepticon had sneezed, and Hot Rod, the idiot, had said bless you. It was pure luck that they hadn’t been noticed. When they’d all gotten inside the archives, Ultra Magnus was surprised to immediately find an archivist frozen still with a cart full of datapads. 

The spies had said the archive was automated, but here he was staring at a petrified Decepticon. He was tan with colorful stripes. He had sharp teeth and yellow optics. The Archivists were boxy and disturbingly had a stomach window which showed their internal organs. Magnus was as surprised as the Con when, from the corner of his optics, he saw a rush of movement. He heard someone shout.

“Control!” There were more archivists. Ultra Magnus signaled to the Wreckers to go after them, and he took the Con in front of them as a prisoner. Said Con was still as stiff as a board.

“We have them, Magnus!”

Ultra Magnus joined them in an opening in the rows of shelves. There were a couple of terminals and 5 more Decepticons all huddled together. All of them were a similar color to the first one, tan with orange and yellow stripes. They were all kind of hiding behind what seemed to be their leader. The leader has a very boxy and bulky mech who had monitor screens on their chest and for a head. 

The one Magnus had taken prisoner finally did something, “Control!”

The leader, whom he now assumes is named Control, spoke, “What do you want with us?”

“We’re here for a file,”

“Is it common for you Autobots to hold 6 unarmed civilians at gunpoint?” 

“You are still loyal to the Decepticons and can easily call for backup,” Magnus turns to Blurr. “Start looking for the file,”

“What file are you looking for?”

“You can figure it out when you look for what’s missing after we leave,”

“I’d honestly rather just tell you where it is, so we can get back to work,”

“Wouldn’t that make you a traitor to your cause?”

“Like I care about the Cause, the punishment for helping you would be less than getting behind on work. You have no-,” 

Control was cut off by a hand on his shoulder from a taller mech behind him. He was similar to Control, in which he was very rectangular. The mech was very smooth and blank; he even had a face mask.

“Don’t. He might hear,”

Magnus spoke, “What would I not understand?”

Control glared at him, “That it’s not always pleasant to live under the Decepticons. Not that it matters much to you. You’re here for intel, and not a sob story,”

“If you need help, I might be able to offer some,”

“I don’t think you could give us the type of help we need,”

“You’ll never know unless you tell me,”

“When you leave, I want us to leave with you,” surprised murmurs came from all of the other archivists. 

Ultra Magnus was stunned. This was certainly not how he thought this mission would go, “You want to defect to the Autobots?”

“I want to defect, period. If I need to join the Autobots for it, then I’ll do it. As long as we get out of here,”

“What about your friends? How do they feel?” Magnus looked towards the others, who all nodded in agreement or gave a verbal agreement. “Well then, we’ll need a plan to get all 12 of us out,”

Control smiled, “I already have one. There’s a fire exit that doesn’t have any a patrols unit you get outside,”

“Why didn’t you do this before, then?”

“You need a gun, which I don’t have, for the outside, and they can tell when we leave because the whole system for calling files goes down. Speaking of which, we’re out of time,” Control turned to a bot with dark brown accents and silver pieces on his chest and two skirt panels. He had two claws on each arm for a servo. “Bracket, go help that blue bot find whatever file they need,” He turned to everyone else, “Go get any personal effects we’re leaving now and get Bracket’s things for them,”

Magnus spoke up, “Is there anything me and my Wreckers can do?”

“Well, you can help carry things, but first of all, you can let go of Backspace,”

Ultra Magnus only realized then that he still had his hostage. He immediately let go of Backspace, who rushed off to grab things. He and the rest of the Wreckers followed to help. They gathered up everything they could within their subspaces and met up with Blurr and Bracket in front of the first exit.

They all ran through the fire exit with Control leading. There was no doubt that the Decepticons would figure out their archive was empty soon. When they got to the door, they reorganized themselves so that each Wrecker was paired with one of the archivists. He was paired with Control, and both of them led the group as they tried to sneak into an entrance to the sewers.

Unfortunately, their luck from earlier had run out, and they did get spotted. Sneaking turned into running. The Wreckers stayed towards the back to give the archivists cover fire. Ultra Magnus ended up as the only injury of the group. He got shot through the leg and was dragged through the entrance by Springer. Springer and Control were the ones to help him limp towards the Autobot’s base.

The journey back to base was an incredibly informative one. He learned a lot of things about these new bots from Control. They were a combiner group called the Syntaxicons, and they were all mistreated by the Decepticons through isolation. He learned Control was actually CTRL, and the bot who stopped him from an outburst was named Ellipses. He also learned the names of the final two members of the group.

They were the smallest of the bunch. The one with a red visor and a bunch of keys on his arms was Typo, and the one with the tail and a scroll wheel was Misclick. Magnus has never seen a non-beastformer with a tail, but here was Misclick with his tail tucked while clinging to Ellipses.

Ultra Magnus wasn’t sure how exactly he’d explain all this to High Command, but at least he knew that Optimus would be happy that some Decepticons defected. And Magnus had been right; Optimus was thrilled to have them. They decided that Cybertron was not the best place for them due to some things they’d noticed about the Syntaxicons.

The only bot that ever really spoke was CTRL. The rest of them would look towards CTRL for decisions. Several of them were visibly anxious and clung to the other members of their gestalt. High Command decided that Earth was a lot calmer than Cybertron, and it would be a great place for them to recover from their mistreatment. They also decided that Magnus would join them on the Ark, so that he could also recover. As well as he'd be a familiar person for the Syntaxicons, since throwing them in with strangers would not help them.

Chapter Text

The Syntaxicons had been hesitant when they were told that they’d be going to Earth to live on the Ark, but they had been reassured that it was so they’d have somewhere quieter to adjust to living as Autobots. Ultra Magnus would be joining them for his own recovery due to his leg injury. When they first got to the Ark, it was night on Earth, and most of the bots were in recharge. They were glad that they weren’t made a spectacle. 

They’d given simple greetings to Optimus Prime, Prowl, and Jazz before they were all sent to recharge. They would meet the rest of the Autobots when they woke up. The Syntaxicons were grateful for this since they hadn’t gotten a chance to rest since they left the Decepticons. Unfortunately, they had to be split up into 3 different rooms since it was on such short notice, there wasn’t time to find a larger room fit for a combiner team.

While they went to berth, Ultra Magnus met up with high command. He explained more to them about what happened to the Syntaxicons. They had been isolated from social interactions and forced to work half to death. High Command decided the first step to the Syntaxicons recuperation would be rest. They are well overdue for a vacation, and they need time to recover from the mental toll it took on them.

When the Syntaxicons woke up, Optimus gave them a tour of the Ark and told them the plan for their integration into the Autobots. For now, they’d simply observe and get to know the other Autobots, but eventually they will be expected to take the Autobot oath and join the Cause. Though that’s in the future, currently, they can just relax. 

The bots were very excited to meet the new Autobots. They asked a lot of questions that the Syntaxicons were just not ready to answer. It was extremely overwhelming for them after being so used to only seeing each other. Some of them, like Backspace and Misclick, had to go back to their rooms to take breaks from socializing.

The Autobots were very loud and outgoing, and Backspace and Misclick prefer a quieter environment. Backspace had appreciated the chance to get back to writing, and Misclick enjoyed being able to read again. He’d gotten a few books from the Autobots after expressing his desire for more reading material. 

Some of them were making fast friends with the Autobots. Bracket had always enjoyed being in groups and was happy to finally be able to make new friends. Typo felt the same. He was very happy to be around people who were friendly and welcoming. 

Ellipses would follow around Typo, so that he didn’t get too far ahead of himself. Ellipses was still as quiet as he ever was. He seemed happy, though. CTRL found himself going back and forth between all of the members of his gestalt to make sure they were adjusting well. He, himself, got along fine with the Autobots, but he still mostly focused on his combiner team.

The Autobots were actually very surprised when they learned that they were all in a relationship and a combiner team. They didn’t know that the Decepticons could make a combiner without the Enigma. Some of the Autobots seemed unimpressed by the fact that none of them were fast cars, but any of them who actually voiced it would get a smack to the helm.

All of the Syntaxicons were enjoying being able to spend quality time with each other as a group. It was a nice vacation, but the longer it went on, the more they realized they needed something to do. They had worked for so long that several of them didn’t really have any hobbies outside of it, so they were just lying around bored. They ended up bringing this up to Ultra Magnus, who was surprised at the request.

“You want to go back to work?” The Syntaxicons all nodded. “Why? You worked for so long, and you want to end your hard-earned vacation early?”

CTRL spoke, “The problem is that we don’t have anything else to do. Please, we’re bored. Even if it’s just something small. I feel like I’m going crazy. I need something to look forward to. It’s a different type of monotony, but it’s still the same feeling,”

“If you were allowed to go back to work, what would you want to do?”

“We’ve always done paperwork. Making sure things were formatted properly and filed away correctly,”

“But that’s what you did in the Decepticon Archives. Why would you want to go back to that,”

“The work itself wasn’t the problem. It was how we were treated,”

“And you feel like if you were to work it would help you,”

“Yes,”

“Do the rest of you agree?” The rest of the Syntaxicons agreed. “Well, it’s your recovery. If you believe that it will help you, I’ll see what I can do. It’s ultimately up to High Command.”

Satisfied with that answer, the Syntaxicons left his office. When Ultra Magnus brought it up to High Command, they were resistant at first. They didn’t want the Syntaxicons to feel like they were forced to work for them, and some weren’t sure about letting newly deserted Decepticons so close to Autobot intel. 

Ultra Magnus assured them that they could help him with his work, and he’d watch them. He mostly handled field reports and didn’t go over any sensitive information. They also didn’t want all 6 of them immediately getting back into work, so he suggested it be for at least one day a week. Then they didn’t want all 6 of them there because he couldn’t watch all 6 of them if they were trying to sabotage the Autobots, so Magnus suggested that only one of the Syntaxicons help him at a time.

That plan satisfied High Command, and the Syntaxicons when Mangus told them about it. They honestly seemed very giddy to be able to work again. They thanked him a lot and promised to do well. The Syntaxicons were laughing and smiling when they left his office. It was the first time he’d seen the group so happy. Ultra Magnus was honestly excited to work with them. They’re the only bots he’d ever had ask him to do paperwork.

Chapter Text

Misclick had been terrified when they left the Decepticons, and even more scared when they got to the Ark. Some of the Autobots were a lot to handle. He would often get exhausted after socializing with them. He did make friends with some of the more introverted Autobots, who were a lot easier for Misclick to spend time with. 

Misclick got close with Beachcomber, whose energy matched his own. Beachcomber learned that Misclick liked to read and managed to get Misclick to admit that he was reading romances set in an office. To Misclick’s horror and delight, Beachcomber gifted him with some new romance books for his collection. He’d asked around for Misclick.

It made Misclick flush in embarrassment. Romance had been on his processor lately. It was just a small crush, but who wouldn’t have a crush on the mech? Ultra Magnus had come in like a knight in shining armor and saved them from the Decepticon Archives. He was so nice and patient with them as well.

He knew he’d gotten a crush after reading one of the new romances Beachcomber gave him. The reason he liked the office setting so much is that he would imagine one of the Syntaxicons in place of the love interest and himself as the main character. The difference was that this time, he imagined himself and Ultra Magnus. 

Apparently, his crush had escaped his own thoughts and through the gestalt bond to the other Syntaxicons because they would tease him about it. They all thought it was cute. They all would laugh whenever he tried to deny it. They were sitting down to eat their rations, and Typo kept poking at him, trying to get him to confess.

“You cannot deny it, Misclick. You have a crush on Magnus,”

“I do not . I can barely stand the 5 of you; I wouldn’t make it with 6,”

“I think you’re lying,” Typo leaned in close to Misclick, who was frowning. “Do you want to know how I know?”

“Sure. I want to know where you’re getting this false information from,”

“It’s your tail. It goes crazy every time you’re even in the same room as him,”

Misclick tucks in his tail and protests. “It does not,”

“It so does. You stare at him, probably thinking about kissing him,” Typo leans in for a kiss. Misclick closes his optics to prepare it, only to feel Typo scroll the wheel on his abdomen.

“Eek!” Misclick jumped out of his seat. The Syntaxicons all laughed. They all knew that his wheel was ticklish. Misclick huffed, “I’m leaving,”

“No, come back, Misclick. It was just some teasing,”

“I will not sit here and listen to your false accusations, and it’s about time for my shift anyway,”

Typo stifled a laugh. “I bet you’re excited to leave early for that. I wonder why?”

Misclick flushed and playfully hit Typo. “You'd better stop, or I’m leaving without giving any of you a kiss goodbye,” 

Scared to miss one of their favorite traditions, the Syntaxicons all gave apologies and promises to stop. Of course, even if they hadn’t, Misclick would’ve relented; he liked how they would all clamor over each other to be first. He gave them all a kiss on their derma and left, blushing like a fool. He’d have to take a moment to make the color on his cheeks go down before entering the office. 

Working with Ultra Magnus was wonderful. He was organized and efficient, not to mention kind. It felt the same as working with any of the other Syntaxicons, which was rare since most bots couldn’t keep up with them. At least one of them was doing work since Misclick would find himself accidentally staring at Magnus’s faceplate. 

Ultra Magnus definitely noticed that Mislick kept zoning out, but he never acknowledged it. Even when Magnus had to call Mislick’s designations multiple times. He probably thought that zoning out was just something Msilick did. If they had been with the Decepticons, Misclick would’ve been yelled at. He just hoped that Magnus didn’t put two and two together to realize Misclick was gawking at how handsome he was. Misclick kept trying to stop, but Magnus was just so wonderful. 

Though his staring could be excused, his tail could not. It would move based on his emotions. Misclick wishes he had more control over it, but it was as involuntary as blinking. It might’ve been fine if the plug at the end of his tail didn’t have a habit of knocking things over. Which is exactly what happened when he knocked over a glass on Ultra Magnus’s desk while talking to him.

Misclick’s face flushed in embarrassment, “Oh Primus, I’m so sorry, Magnus,”

“No, it’s ok, Misclick. It was an accident,” Magnus tried to reassure Misclick. “We’ll simply clean it up,”

“I still broke something,”

“I mean it, Misclick. It’s ok. I’m just glad you're happy,”

Misclick was confused, “What do you mean?”

“Your tail. When I first saw you, it was tucked, but every time I’ve seen you since, it’s been going side to side. I’m sorry if I assumed,”

“Oh, no, you’re right; that is what it means. I just hoped no one would notice,” 

“Why did you not want anyone to notice?”

“It’s an unconscious movement, and, well, this isn’t my first time breaking something,”

“Then I probably shouldn’t leave such breakable things on the edge of my desk. Let’s clean this up.”

After they cleaned up the glass, they simply went along with their day as usual. When Misclick got back to his habsuite, he screamed into his pillow. Backspace asked if he was ok, and Misclick responded that he was fine. Actually, he was more than fine; he was ecstatic.

Most people yelled at him whenever he broke things with his tail. They told him he needed more control or made fun of him for being clumsy. Ultra Magnus was the first bot outside of the Syntaxicons that had not blamed the involuntary movement on Misclick. Misclick was screwed. Not only did Magnus probably know he’d been glaring at him on purpose, Misclick was now completely and utterly in love.

Chapter Text

Coming to the Ark had been amazing for Bracket. One of the worst things about working for the Decepticons had been the inability to interact with anyone outside of his gestalt. Not that Bracket hated his gestalt; he loved them more than anything. It’s just when you know someone so well and spend all your time with them, you tend to run out of conversation ideas. It gets repetitive. 

The Autobots were all very new and, honestly, very interesting to talk to. It was fun getting to know everything about each of them. Bracket had made fast friends with Jazz, who introduced him to a lot of the crew. He just wishes that the other Syntaxicons were having as easy a time as he. He’d been trying to do what Jazz had done for him, for the other Syntaxicons, but it hadn’t been welcomed. He just wished they realized he was trying to help them. That’s exactly what he was trying to do when he went to see Backspace.

Now, the Syntaxicons didn’t have a reason to hide from each other since they were all in a relationship after all. If they weren’t on the Ark, they would’ve all asked to have one room, but since they couldn’t, they shared the codes to the habsuites amongst themselves. So it was normal when Bracket entered Backspace’s room without warning. What wasn’t normal was seeing Backspace and CTRL arguing with each other. Neither of them even turned to look at Bracket when he entered. 

CTRL was trying to speak in a hushed tone, “You cannot keep doing this, Backspace; it’s not healthy,”

“I don’t want to talk to strangers, CTRL,”

“They’ll always be strangers if you never make an attempt to meet them. They’re friendly enough. You could probably just sit out in the open, and one of them will come up to you,”

“I don’t see how any of this is your business, CTRL,”

“I’m the leader of his gestalt. It’s my job to worry about you,”

“That’s because you put yourself as leader,”

“And no one complained.” CTRL defended himself. 

Things started to get heated between CTRL and Backspace. Bracket couldn’t stand it when the other Syntaxicons fought. He honestly couldn’t stand it if they were anything less than happy. This is why he just cannot stand by when the Syntaxicons argue with each other. He just had to help mediate. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bracket got in between the two of them. “You two need to calm down,”

CTRL spoke, “Bracket, I love you, but you don’t need to worry yourself about this,”

“I do when you’re starting to raise your voices,”

“That’s true, we were, but we can solve this ourselves,”

Backspace agreed, “This whole thing is about me, and I don’t need two of you involved with this,”

Bracket decided to justify himself, “I’m not trying to pick a side, Backspace. I just didn’t want you two to start yelling at each other,”

“I still don’t see why you needed to insert yourself in this,”

“I’m trying to meditate. I always meditate, and you guys were arguing,”

“Yes, we were arguing. People who love each other will argue. It’s not necessarily a negative thing,”

“Necessarily,” Bracket emphasized. “I’m trying to help. Do you not like it when I try to help? Am I not being helpful?” 

“I- We-,” Backspace was exasperated and turned to CTRL, “CTRL, can you do this?”

“Yes,” CTRL turned to Bracket. “We always appreciate it when you help out with our problems, Bracket. I mean it, but you shouldn’t feel like it’s your responsibility,”

“I didn’t say that,”

“But you did; you said that you always meditate. You shouldn’t have to do that. Backspace and I are completely capable of figuring out our own problems. Now you have your shift with Ultra Magnus soon, right?”

“Yes,”

“Bracket, go to your shift, get your processor off of this, and I promise when you see us later everything is going to be completely solved,”

“But,”

“Bracket, you need to trust us, please,”

Bracket sighed and gave in. He wasn’t making any progress, and you cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, and neither CTRL nor Backspace wanted it. Bracket still couldn’t help but worry, and worry he did. Bracket did go to help out with Magnus, but his processor just kept imagining CTRL and Backspace still arguing without him there.

Magnus came up to him near the end of their shift, “Bracket, may I ask you something?”

“Of course,”

“I’d like to spend some time with you after work. I want to talk to you about something,”

This made Bracket nervous, “Did I do anything wrong?”

“Oh, no, no. Everything is perfectly fine. It’s just not a work conversation, and it would be unprofessional to bring it up during our shift,”

“I understand.”

When their shift was over, he and Magnus went to get their rations from the cafeteria. They sat down in a quieter corner, and Bracket sat and waited for Magnus to say something. 

“Bracket, I wanted to know how your transition to the Autobots has been,”

“Oh!” Bracket hadn’t guessed this would be the topic. He smiled. “It’s been going great. I get along great with the Autobots. They’re all so nice,”

“But has today been any different?”

“What do you mean?” Now, Bracket was confused.

“Well,” Ultra Magnus scratched his neck. “It’s just that I noticed that you seemed to have something on your processor. You were clicking your claws together, and you always do so when you’re frustrated with paperwork. The difference was that this time you weren’t doing anything and still fidgeting,”

Bracket was taken aback. “I had no idea that I did that,”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up. You don’t have to say anything,”

“No, it’s just that I’m surprised,” Bracket paused. “There was something that happened, but you don’t need to feel like you need to lend an audial,”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t willing to listen,” Magus assured. 

“Thanks,”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Sure. Why not?” Bracket sighed. “I wanted to check in on Backspace, and I found him arguing with CTRL. I wanted to help meditate. They told me not to worry, and they’d figure it out themselves. The thing is that I did worry, which is why I was fidgeting,”

“What exactly were you worrying about?”

“I was worried that they’d continue to argue,”

“Do you not like it when they argue?”

“Oh course not. Who would? I hate it when any of the Syntaxicons are upset,”

“Does it always bother you when one of them is upset?”

“Yes, that’s why I try to mediate their arguments and check in on them,”

“Have you always done that?”

“No. I think it started when we joined the Decepticons,”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, as you know, we didn’t really have any downtime, so when any of us fought, it could last for a while since there was no time to make up. It affected our gestalt bond,”

“So that’s why you started to meditate? You didn’t want the gestalt bond to hurt,”

“Yes,”

“Well, Bracket, I think there’s something important you’ve missed,”

“And what’s that?”

“You aren’t with the Decepticons anymore,”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t limited by time anymore. You and your gestalt have tons of time to spend figuring out your problems,”

“I guess you’re right,’ Bracket was stunned. “I never realized,”

“You said you were trying to check in on Backspace. Why?”

“To see how his transition was going,”

“What about your transition? You focus so much on your gestalt members, you forgot yourself,”

“I was just trying to look after them,”

“I know. You care about them a lot, but they care about you as well. There are some things that they aren’t able to help you with. You have to help yourself, Bracket,” Magnus paused. He reached out and held one of Bracket’s claws. “You do a lot of things for the sake of the other Syntaxicons. Can you add your own recovery from the Decepticons to that list of things?”

“Yeah, I think I can,” Bracket looked at Magnus and smiled. “Thanks for this. I really needed it,”

“Any time,” Magnus smiled back and then stood up. “I won’t keep you any longer.” He waved and walked away.

Bracket didn’t spend much more time in the cafeteria. He said hello to a few of the Autobots he managed to befriend, but his processor was on his gestalt, so he left to see them. It turns out he had talked longer than he thought, and everyone else was recharging. Well, he thought everyone was recharging. 

When he snuck into his habsuite, he came across CTRL reading. Bracket was surprised. 

“You’re still up,”

“I wanted to talk to you,”

“Is it about the argument earlier?”

CTRL nodded. He got up from the berth and hugged Bracket. “Just for your information, Backspace and I did solve our differences,” CTRL kissed Bracket’s forehelm. “I’m sorry for kind of pushing you out of the room earlier,”

“I understand why,”

“You know, when we were in the Decepticons, it always bothered me that you had to get in on every little argument we had. You might not have noticed it, but I saw the toll it took on you. I just don’t want you to do that anymore,”

“I promise I’ll try, but it’s become sort of a force of habit,”
“Then I’ll be there to remind you,” They both looked at each other and kissed. Bracket then snuggled back into the hug.

CTRL smiled. “It’s late. We should probably recharge,”

“I don’t want to stop hugging. You’re warm,” whined Bracket.

“We can try to fit it in one berth together. You’ll have to recharge on top of me, though,”

“Deal.”

CTRL and Bracket took a bit, but they did find a comfortable position for both of them to fit on the berth. Bracket had his helm and was listening to CTRL’s spark. He thought back on the day, and mostly to Ultra Magnus. Bracket had not expected all that from Magnus. He didn’t realize that Magnus was the type of mech to notice such small things, but he was.

He noticed that Bracket was upset. He’d taken out some of his limited personal time to make sure that Bracket was ok, and Magnus had helped so much. He might not have been in his position with CTRL if it weren’t for Ultra Magnus. Bracket would tell you it was from the heat of CTRL’s chassis, but he felt his cheeks heat up as he fell into recharge with thoughts of Magnus.

Chapter Text

Typo was confused when he was told that they were joining the Autobots. He knew that the other Syntaxicons were unhappy with the amount of work given to them, but Typo had just been happy that they weren’t split up. It was tough working in the Decepticons Archives, but he’d been happy to just be with them. 

Typo hadn’t realized just how unhappy the other Syntaxicons were until CTRL asked the Autobots to take them back to the Autobot base, and everyone agreed. He was confused, but CTRL had never made a wrong choice, so he went with them unquestioned. The transition from the Decepticons to the Autobots had been night and day.

The Autobots hadn’t assigned them any official job yet, so Typo spent most of the day following around the other Syntaxicons or talking to Autobots in the cafeteria. Of course, he had his time with Ultra Magnus, which he very much enjoyed. The Autobots were all very friendly; a lot more friendly than the Decepticons had ever been. 

He’d made new friends in the Autobot twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. The two of them were very funny. Typo felt like they all got along great. Despite him only recently becoming an Autobot, they already trusted him with tasks. They asked Typo to do their reports for them since they were so bad at it. It was true, the twins were bad at formatting and grammar. Typo decided to help them and try to teach them, but they said they struggled to pay attention. Luckily for them, Typo was a very patient person.

Typo actually brought in these reports to Prowl for the twins. They would constantly complain about having aches from their patrols, so the twins asked Typo to turn them in since he was the expert on the reports, because he wrote them professionally. This is what he was doing when Ellipses stopped him in the hall and took the reports from his hands.

“You have reports. Why?”

“I’ve been helping Sideswipe and Sunstreaker do their reports,”

“How much of it is your work?”

“Most of it, but all the information came from them,”

“Why didn’t they make their own reports?”

“They don’t understand the formatting, so I’ve been trying to explain it to them,”

“For how long?”

Typo was confused, “A few weeks. Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Don’t do their work anymore. They need to learn the hard way if they have to,”

“But Ellipses, their grammar is terrible, they’ll have to be rewritten by Prowl,”

“That will be Prowl’s problem. Is that who you are taking these to?”

“Yeah,”

“I’ll take them instead. You have your shift with Ultra Magnus soon, correct?”

Typo felt panic, “Primus, I forgot. Yes, I gotta go. Bye Ellipses, love you,”

He quickly pulled down Ellipses’s faceplate to give him a kiss, and then he ran off to make sure he was on time for his shift. Honestly, seeing Magnus was one of the highlights of his week these days. It was amazing to watch Ultra Magnus at work. He reminded Typo of the other Syntaxicons a lot. So very intelligent and organized, and not to mention patient. 

Typo was good at doing all manner of different formatting, but his work always had to be double checked for a singular reason. He would often mix up similarly spelled words. For most people, this would be a simple mistake to be glossed over, but it was supposed to be Typo’s job, and the same mistakes kept appearing. It was embarrassing. 

Magnus looked down at the report he just wrote and frowned, “You’ve mixed up definitely and definately again,”

Typo looked down at his pedes, “I’m sorry,”

“Typo?” Magnus sounded shocked, “Typo, it’s fine. I was trying to make an observation, not a reprimand. There is no need for an apology,”

“I’m sorry. Oh, I apologized, sorry. I- oops, I did it again,” Typo buried his face in his servos.

Magnus chuckled, “It’s fine, Typo. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. You won’t get in trouble for something as simple as a spelling mistake.”

“Wow, really? That’s great,”

“You seem surprised?” Ultra Magnus now looked at Typo with a mix of worry and confusion.

“Well, in the Decepticons, we would be in trouble since Shockwave saw it as illogical to have to correct a report since you could’ve done it correctly the first time,” 

“What would happen when you got in trouble?”

“You’d get isolated from the other Syntaxicons, and you’d be forced to redo the report until it was up to Shockwave’s standards, and his standards are high ,” Typo was saying all this very nonchalantly, “That wasn’t too bad. The worst was that the smallest reports were usually about a couple dozen pages, and you wouldn’t be allowed to refuel until you were finished,”

Magnus’s mouth was agape, “You- they- That’s horrific,”

“Well, not really. There are a lot worse punishments in the Decepticons. We were just lucky that office work can’t cause a loss against the Autobots,”

“You don’t seem to understand. You shouldn’t be getting punished for grammar mistakes at all,”

“If you don’t get punished for mistakes, then how will you know they’re mistakes?”

“You can always just be told about it, but that’s not exactly my point. Do you not realize that being isolated and starved is not a fair punishment for a grammar mistake?”

“Well then, what is a fair punishment?”

“Making an observation,”

Typo scoffed, “That’s it. What you did earlier? That’s what you Autobots do?”

Magnus nodded, “Yes, if there are mistakes, we just fix them. The only reason I mentioned anything was because you do it often,” 

“Why, though? It’s my mistake, and I’m making more work for you. You should be angry, fuming, yelling,”

“Yelling over something like this would be an overreaction,”

“You just don’t seem to get it, Magnus. This is my purpose. I’m a keyboard; this is what I’ve always done. I’m supposed to be an expert,”

“But Typo,” Magnus put his servos on Typo’s shoulders, “You shouldn’t have to be an expert in grammar because you're a keyboard,”

“Maybe, but that’s how I’ve been raised. Everything is easier if only the experts do things. With the Decepticons, Shockwave is an expert in science, so we did his paperwork. If you Autobots did that, I bet things would be so easier. Do you have any idea how long Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would take to finish their reports if I didn’t help them?”

Typo felt Magnus still, “You’ve been helping the twins? How much of the report do you do?”

“Most of it. You should see their reports, though. Magnus, they're awful. Nothing is correct. I tried to teach them, but they just learn so slowly,”

“Typo, I have seen their reports. They’ve been doing them perfectly fine for millions of years. The twins just hate doing them,”

Typo’s optics widened, “You mean,”

“That they’ve been lying to you? Yes. They were perfectly capable of doing their own work, and so was Shockwave. Typo, why do you think that you and the other Syntaxicons left the Decepticons?”

“I don’t know; I was just following CTRL because I always do.”

“CTRL was protecting you from being used, Typo. The Decepticons were using you six to do their work, so that they didn’t have to do it themselves. I know that Shockwave had enough resources to spend on more soldiers to help you. There wasn’t anything logical about what he did to you; it was just cruel.”

Typo paused. He could feel the cogs in his processor shift. Ultra Magnus was right. Oh, Primus, he was right. Typo began to panic. How utterly stupid was he that he didn’t notice something so obvious? He’d just never questioned it before. Typo never even had the thought that he could question it.

Before the war, you were told your function, and that’s just what you were. There was no asking if it was ok or if you wanted to do that job. There wasn’t a choice, but he had been fine with it. When they joined the Decepticons, he just accepted everything because that’s just how it was. He did the same thing when he joined the Autobots.

So now, here he finds himself still doing paperwork. Typo liked his job, or so he thought. He’d never been given the choice to do anything else. He felt betrayed. He felt lied to. Everyone else was in on this reality except for him. Why was this the first time he’d been made aware? Typo felt sick. He needed to get out. 

Typo went for the door, still in a state of shock. Ultra Magnus tried to stop him in order to calm him down, but Typo pushed past him. He sped up when he got into the hallway. Even though he wasn’t supposed to leave the Ark, he left and went to the woods. Typo found a nice tree to sit under and just burst into tears. 

He stayed there for a long time just to think everything over. Around sunset, he heard someone else in the woods. It was Ultra Magnus dragging Sideswipe and Sunstreaker by their necks. They both looked terrified. Magnus brought them in front of him, and Typo stood up.

“Both of you apologize now,”

In unison, “I’m sorry,”

“That’s it? Do it again. Make it better, and look at Typo, not the ground,”

Sunstreaker spoke first, “I’m sorry, Typo. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your kindness to get you to do my work,” 

Sideswipe second, “Typo, I’m sorry as well. It was wrong to manipulate you into doing things for us,”

Typo was silent while processing their words, “I forgive you, but I do not wish to speak to you anymore. I thought we were friends, but it turns out were weren’t,”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked slightly hurt but seemed to understand. They nodded in acceptance, and Magnus dismissed them. Ultra Magnus waited until the twins were out of audial range before turning to Typo. 

“I’m sorry that I brought all of this up. I hope that you know that the Autobots will never treat you like the Decepticons did. I do not want you to feel that you’re being used, or that the only value you bring is the things you can do for us,”

“No, I appreciate it, Magnus. I’m kind of glad you got injured because I don’t think anyone other than the Syntaxicons would’ve taken the time to explain it to me. Let alone defend me from people you’ve known a lot longer,”

“You know Typo. I’ll always be here if you need anything. But I will say that maybe next time you should rephrase your praise. Someone might be offended if you told them you were glad they were injured,"

Typo realized, “Oh Primus, I’m sorry, Magnus. I didn’t mean,”

Magnus was laughing, “No, it’s ok, Typo. Are you good to come back to the Ark now?”

“Yes,”

Typo and Ultra Magnus walked back to the Ark, and they got their evening rations together. It was fun to spend time with Magnus during their shift, but Typo thought it was even better when there were no responsibilities to distract them from talking. When it was time to recharge, Typo made a quick decision and hugged Magnus to thank him. Magnus went stiff at first, but he did end up hugging back.

—

When Typo got back to his habsuite, he found Ellipse,s who was sitting at their shared desk. He turned to look at Typo. Ellipses looked guilty. He stood up and motioned for Typo to sit next to him on Ellipses’s berth. 

“I heard about what happened between you and Ultra Magnus. I feel that I should apologize for not explaining my actions earlier,”

“I understand you were trying to protect me,”

“Yes, but I’ve gone too far. All of us have. I-,” Ellipses looked like he was struggling to speak. “I knew that you didn’t understand what Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were doing, and I knew that you didn’t understand why we left the Decepticons,”

“Wow, uh, that’s big,” Typo was shocked.

“The reason was because I felt that I could avoid causing you hurt if you didn’t know. If you receive a wound, and it heals before you realize it’s there. It’s essentially like there’s no wound, but I never thought about what would happen when you learned about the scars,” Ellipses turned to look directly at Typo. He was crying. “Typo, you're so wonderful. You’re so trusting and kind, and you always see the best in others. I don’t want the cruelty of the world to change you. I’m so sorry. I loved you too much to see you hurt,”

Typo wiped Ellipses tears and kissed some away, “It must’ve been hard to protect someone who is so oblivious,”

Ellipses gasped, “No, no, you’re not oblivious at all,”

Typo hushed him, “Ellipses I am the most unaware being there is. So for now, instead of fixing problems for me, please tell me about them. I need to be able to fix things for myself. I promise that I’ll come to you guys if I need help,”

“Promise?”

Typo laughed and kissed Ellipses on the lips, “Yeah, now go to bed. You look worse than me, and I was running through the forest,”

Chapter Text

There was only one thing that Backspace missed about the Decepticons. It was the quietness. The archives were always very quiet. The only sounds were from the Syntaxicons. This is opposed to the Autobots, who were mostly loud and outgoing. Backspace had found himself hiding away in his habsuite just to get some silence, so he could hear his own thoughts instead of others talking. 

Backspace had always hated loud places, and he hated being around groups of people for extended periods of time. The only group he could spend eternity with was the Syntaxicons. They could rejuvenate anything that was drained from Backspace after having to be in public. Despite his love of being by himself, the forced isolation while in the Decepticons had an undeniable effect on him. Backspace just couldn’t stand to be in any sort of crowd without one of the other Syntaxicons anymore. 

Crowds just made him feel overwhelmed. It was like thousands of optics were all converging onto the back of his helm. It was just easier to stay in his habsuite. Backspace could focus on reviving his writing hobby there; no noisy bots to interrupt his focus. Most bots were content to allow him to stay within this comfort, but, as of his nature, CTRL couldn’t. 

CTRL always fussed over the Syntaxicons. He enjoyed knowing that his partners were all happy. CTRL saw Backspace’s alone time as an extension of the isolation they suffered from while under the Decepticons. He wanted Backspace to spend more time outside of his habsuite without the Syntaxicons there with him. They had a whole argument about it, and in the end, Backspace agreed to go out in public more as long as it was on his terms. Backspace was not about to join the parties the Autobots threw after a victory. 

Backspace would stay in the library that only had a few visitors. He could tell that CTRL wasn’t fully happy about it, but Backspace would not allow anything else. So now instead of writing in his room, he writes in the library. Backspace didn’t write anything specific; sometimes it was fiction, and other times it was nonfiction. He could never fully commit to anything because as soon as Backspace felt like he messed up, he wanted to immediately stop and make something else. 

Whenever Backspace wrote, he was striving for perfection; that’s why paperwork was so easy. There was a specific way that paperwork had to be done, but creative work didn’t have one. You’d think he’d be able to just correct the draft, but the amount of embarrassment he felt when trying to edit anything was unbearable. Before the war, Backspace would actually just use his alt mode to shred his drafts; he was just that ashamed of them. 

The other Syntaxicons would ask about them, but he always said they weren’t ready yet. The reason they weren’t ready is because he’d never actually finished anything to his satisfaction. The others never pressed, but Backspace always felt bad about it despite the fact that he also appreciated not being pressed. Backspace always froze when people tried to approach him in public. He hated it.

“You’re one of those Syntaxicons, correct? Well, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Perceptor. What are you working on? I’ve seen you visit here a lot to work on whatever it is, and I’ve grown curious,”

Hated it . “Oh, well, I- nice to meet you,” Backspace gave a weak smile. “I’m, my name is B-Backspace. My name is Backspace,”

Perceptor smiled back, “Well, it’s great to meet you, Backspace, and let me say welcome to the Autobots. I hope you’re liking it,” 

“You all are- I’m- I’ve got no complaints,”

“That’s good. Now, can you tell me what you’re working on?”

“I’m- I like to- I’ve been spending my time writing,”

“What do you write about?”

“Well, there’s- I tend to- I make nothing specific. Whatever flows- When- I let my feelings in the moment inspire me,”

“Oh, a creative flow. I get that when I’m working in the lab,”

“Yes- Yeah- I was- I was actually in that state when you interrupted me,” 

Perceptor looked shocked, “Oh! I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get right back to it, but we should talk another time.” Backspace nodded, and Perceptor left. 

Backspace felt ashamed of his interaction with Perceptor. First of all, he had lied to get rid of him; Backspace has actually been thinking about how much he wanted to be in his habsuite. Second, he kept stuttering and changing what he was trying to say. Backspace didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but he kept talking before he decided what would be a good response. Third and last, he agreed to talk to Perceptor again . 

Backspace decided to drown his sorrows and make himself a little less of a liar and actually work on his draft. He actually felt a little hope for this one. It was flowing really well. Backspace got so focused on it that he jumped a little when he felt someone tap his shoulder. Backspace turned around to see Ultra Magnus. He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to help Magnus today. 

Backspace began to try to stutter out an apology.

Magnus raised his servo to silence him, “It’s ok, Backspace,”

“I- I- I- completely forgot, though. I- I’m supposed to help you,”

“Backspace, I mean it. It’s ok. Helping me with my office work is to help you learn a normal balance between work and free time. I’m actually glad that you’re not stressing about work,”

“But- but-,”

“Take your time, Backspace. I can wait for you to be ready to respond,” Ultra Magnus pulled up a chair to sit next to Backspace.

Backspace took a deep breath, “I feel bad for forgetting because it’s one of my responsibilities,” 

“I’m happy that you feel so dedicated, but Backspace, it’s actually my responsibility. If you all weren’t helping me, I’d be perfectly fine,”

“I feel bad about forcing you to waste your time finding me,”

“All I had to do was send a single comm-message to Red Alert, and he told me where you were,”

“I made you worried,”

“Yes, but if you really feel that bad, you can answer one question. What in the library was so engrossing that you lost track of time?”
“Uh, well- it’s- I was writing,”

“You like writing?” Magnus noticed the datapad and reached out. “Is this it?”

Backspace slammed his servos on the datapad to hide the screen, “ No !” He grabbed the datapad and held it to his chassis. Backspace looked at Magnus’s shocked face when it dawned on him what he had just done. His faceplate flushed in embarrassment, and Backspace covered his mouth with his servo. “Oh, Primus, what did I just do?”

Ultra Magnus gives a reassuring look, “I’m sorry, Backspace. I hadn’t realized it was so personal to you,”

“Well- I- It’s not personal; it’s just not ready to be seen,”
“Still a work in progress?” Backspace nodded. “How can you tell when it’s ready?”

Backspace paused, “I- I don’t know. I’ve never been satisfied with any of my work before,”

“You’ve never finished anything?”

“Y-yeah,” Backspace looks down ashamed. 

Magnus, now concerned, says, “Why?”

“Whenever I make a mistake, I just can’t stand to look at the draft anymore, and I start working on something else,”
“You don’t try to fix it?” Magnus sounded confused.

“No. I- I just want to make something perfect, and I can’t,” Backspace was defeated.

“Why is perfection so important to you?”

“I- I’m not sure. I just- I like to be presentable, and my work should reflect that,”

“Who are you presenting this to?”

“Well… no one yet,”

“So you are willing to share it if you feel content with the outcome?”

“Yeah, but I just don’t want to be judged,”

“If it were perfect, who would you share it with?”

“Probably the Syntaxicons,”

“Anyone else?” Backspace shook his head. “Do you think the Syntaxicons would judge you?”

“Oh, absolutely not. They’d love to read whatever I’d let them,”

“Then who are you afraid of?”

“I- I guess everyone else?”

“But you don’t plan on showing them,”

“But what if they see? What if they ask me?”

“Backspace, you don’t have to share anything you’ve created with the Syntaxicons or anyone else. But you need to finish something, no matter how bad it is when you read it back. Writing is supposed to be your hobby. Hobbies are supposed to relax you, but all it’s causing right now is stress,” Ultra Magnus put his arm over Backspace’s shoulder. “You know I used to feel like I needed to do everything to perfection,”

“But you are perfect,”

Magnus laughed, “Thanks, but I’m not. I used to write and rewrite reports over and over. I even used to rewrite other people’s reports because they weren’t up to my standard. In reality, their reports and mine were perfectly acceptable the first time they were written. When the war started, I was still like that, but it came to the point where I just had to live with the flaws. I would always keep my habsuite perfectly clean before the war, but now I had to sleep in ruins. I gave up perfectionism because I realized that I would never obtain it. I don't believe in the saying that perfection doesn’t exist, but I do believe that all I can ever achieve is an imitation. You might think I’m perfect, but that’s only because it looks like it. I encourage you to finish that writing. It might not be perfect, but you might be able to convince everyone else that it is. I’m afraid that you’ve spent so long with your writings that you’re in your own processor. You can only see the flaws in a paint job when you’re two feet from it, but it looks fine when you step back,”

“I think I understand what you’re trying to say,”

“Well, if there’s any confusion. Backspace, finish that draft, and share it with the Syntaxicons. I’ve noticed that you’re a very anxious bot, and unfortunately that the only way to feel more confident is to do what you’re scared of. Now I should get back to work; don’t worry about missing your shift. I hope that the next time you see me, I’ll get some good news about the little challenge I’ve given you,”

Ultra Magnus left, and all Backspace could do was think. Magnus and CTRL were both right; this wasn’t healthy. Backspace decided to commit. He powered through, and he did manage to finish the draft of what he’d been working on. He wasn’t completely satisfied, but he’d share it. When Backspace returned to his habsuite, he was met with Misclick and Typo cuddling on Misclick’s berth. They looked so cute all bundled up. The two of them were playing a video game that Typo had saved from before the war together. 

Backspace just waltzed up to them, put his arms out with the data, and said, “Read it,”

Typo took it, “Is this one of your writings?”

“Yes,”
Misclick gasped in excitement, “ Really! Oh, Primus, Backspace, are you sure? Is it really ok that we read it?” Backspace nodded. “Thank you so much. I was hoping that you’d let us. I’m so proud of you,”

Mislick grabbed Backspace’s helm and began to smother him with kisses all over his faceplate while Typo began to read. 

Misclick spoke, “You should lie with us, Backspace,”

“I’m too big,”

“Then sit on the edge of the berth,” Backspace sat down and leaned back so his chassis was lying on top of Typo’s and Misclick’s laps. Misclick decided to mess with Backspace’s chassis window. Backspace kept knocking back Misclick’s servos because they tickled. 

“Why are you so obsessed with my window?”

“'Cause it’s clear. Look at all your cute little organs,” Backspace laughed.

“By the Primes, Backspace, this is amazing,” Typo interjected. “Misclick, you gotta read this.” He handed Misclick the datapad. Misclick read while Typo took his own turn to poke at Backspace by messing around with Backspace’s sharp teeth.

“Oh, you’re so right, Typo. This is amazing. Backspace, I didn’t know you were this good at writing,”

Typo agreed, “Talk about a hidden talent,”

They spent the rest of the night talking about Backspace’s story and the video game. It was really nice to hear that they liked it. It actually made Backspace feel like writing something else just to see them smiling at him again. Ultra Magnus had been right. Backspace had been in his own helm. He was glad that Magnus came to see him because then he wouldn’t have been able to have such a great night with his partners. Maybe he’ll share this work with Magnus one day.

Chapter Text

Ellipses enjoyed being with the Autobots, but he felt out of place. He could tell that all of the Autobots were friendly, but he felt a barrier between him and them. Ellipses saw them happily greet the other Syntaxicons with smiles, but those smiles always faltered when they saw Ellipses. This wasn’t a new problem for him.

Before the war, he didn’t have many friends; it was sheer luck that CTRL had started talking to him when they worked together at the insurance office. Ellipses probably wouldn’t have had the Syntaxions if CTRL hadn’t reached out. He’d always been very shy. Ellipses didn’t like to talk much, but that doesn't mean he didn’t like being around other people. He liked the feeling of being within a community. That’s why he liked the Autobots. When they were in the Decepticons, there wasn’t anything to say, but it’s not like there was anyone to say it to.

CTRL said that Ellipses had an intimidating figure that most mechs found hard to approach. Ellipses didn’t understand why. He’s never raised his voice or his servos to anyone. He was just big and too shy to start conversations himself. Ellipses found it easier when he had another one of the Syntaxicons there with him. It was nice to have someone he could lean on in social situations. 

That’s why he approached when he saw Bracket and Hot Rod talking to each other in the cafeteria. Hot Rod’s talking faltered slightly when he saw Ellipses sit down with them. Ellipses was listening to them talk, and he noticed that Hot Rod kept looking over at him. Hot Rod looked like something was wrong. He and Bracket were talking about racing. Bracket was very invested, but Hot Rod seemed to be pulling back from the conversation.

“So, Hot Rod, there has to be someone who has beaten you in a race,”

Hot Rod turned from looking at Ellipses back to Bracket, “Ah… Well, there’s Blurr, but I don’t think anyone can beat him,”

“Really?” Bracket was amazed. “How fast can he go?”

“Somewhere between the speed of sound and light,”

“How?”

“Oh, well, Blurr-,”

Ellipses interjects, “Blurr has the ability to use superspeed,”

Hot Rod looked at him again, “Yeah… speaking of which. I wonder what he’s doing,” Hot Rod quickly got up and left, leaving just Bracket and Ellipses.

Ellipses looked down, “Sorry, Bracket. I drove your friend off,”

“Oh, Ellipses, you didn’t chase him off. He just wanted to go see Blurr,”

“Bracket, that was the excuse he used to leave us because Hot Rod found my presence uncomfortable,”

“I guess he did leave pretty quickly, but I don’t know what you did that could’ve caused that. Do you know?”

“I don’t,”

“Well, there’s always next time. Hot Rod is very nice.”

“I guess.”

Ellipses and Bracket made small talk until Ellipses had to go to see Ultra Magnus. Bracket gave him a kiss, and Ellipses headed off. He still felt down about his interaction with Hot Rod. This type of stuff always happens. Ellipses wishes he knew what he could do about it. He’d love to be able to make friends with the Autobots, but he doesn't know where to start when every time he tries, they leave the conversation seemingly uncomfortable.

“Are you ok, Ellipses?” Ultra Magnus spoke up.

Ellipses was a little startled, “Yes,”

“Are you sure?”
“What makes you think differently?”
“Well, Ellipses, the silence feels off,”
“What do you mean?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain. You always have a certain presence that is usually very calm, but today it feels very different. It feels more discontent. I wanted to know if anything was on your processor,”

Ellipses paused to think it over, “I don’t want to bother you with my troubles,”

“I assure you that it’s no trouble at all. I might be able to help, and if not, I can at least give an audial,”

“...Very well. I had an interaction with Hot Rod that has left me upset,”

“Did Hot Rod do something?” Magnus said seriously.

“No. It was all on my end. I believe that I made Hot Rod uncomfortable, and he left the cafeteria table. My trouble is that I’m uncertain as to what I did to cause it,”

“Ok, well, how about we go over your interactions with Hot Rod. What did you say to him?”

“Nothing really. I simply finished a sentence for him, and he left,”

“Did you cut him off while he was speaking?”

“No. Hot Rod seemed distracted while answering a question, so I answered it for him,”

“Do you know why he was distracted?”

“He kept staring at me, but I don’t know why. He just kept looking over at me,”

“How long did this go on for?”

“Well, I sat down and listened to Hot Rod talking to Bracket, and then I answered the question from Bracket then Hot Rod left,”

Ultra Magnus sighed, “So let me get this straight. You sat down, said nothing, and just watched them? 

“Oh, that does sound kind of bad, but Bracket didn’t have any problems,”

“Well, Ellipses, the Syntaxicons probably just think it's cute. I will say that you do tend to glare. Hot Rod probably thought you were mad about him talking to Bracket,”

“I don’t glare,”

“Yes, you do,” Ultra Magnus insisted. 

“I’m not trying to. It’s just my face,”

“If you were to try to talk more to the other Autobots, they’d probably learn that, but you haven’t,”

Ellipses groaned, “You make it sound like it’s a quick fix. I’ve always failed at social interactions. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. How am I supposed to approach someone when they’re already intimidated by me before I even speak? They avoid me, and they never try to make friends with me either. I never had friends before the war. It’s dumb luck that I have the Syntaxicons,”

“You want people to come up and sit and talk with you?” Magnus was surprised. Ellipses nodded in response. “Oh, I had no clue. I always thought that you just liked being alone,”

“I don’t. Why do you think I have six partners? What made you think that?”

“Well, the same reason Hot Rod left. You never say anything, and your expression is unreadable because of the mask,”

“I just don’t enjoy talking when I don’t need to,”

“Sure, but don’t you think just saying a short greeting to the other bots might help you? Just say ‘hi’. If that’s too much, you can always just wave,”

“Do you really think that could work?”

“It’s what helped me,”

Ellipses was surprised, “You’re lying. Where’d this come from? Bots used to not approach you?”

“Well, I’ve always been a military commander, but before the war, there was a higher level of separation between command and company. I was expected to have an air of leadership around me, but that simply didn’t work during the war. You’d spend all day and night with the same people for vorn on end. You can’t keep the space because then your company won't come to you with problems. When there are so few people, and you’re in a survival situation, you can’t have your soldiers be intimidated by you,”

“That makes sense,”

“Ellipses, you have a wall around you, even if you don’t realize it. You have to do something that will signal to the people around you that those walls have doors that can be opened. Those tips I gave you were what helped me,”

“I want to try.”

“Good, now let’s get back to work.”

After his shift with Magnus ended, Ellipses went to get his evening rations. He once again saw Bracket and Hot Rod talking to each other. He sits down, and this time he follows Magnus’s advice.

Ellipses waves to Hot Rod, “Hello,”

Hot Rod paused for a klik but smiled back at him, and all three of them had a great conversation with each other. Well, it was mostly Bracket and Hot Rod with the occasional interjection from Ellipses. But he didn’t just stare this time, and Hot Rod didn’t look like he wanted to run, which is good. Ellipses is definitely going to have to still work on this since he still feels awkward. 

Maybe a good start would be talking to someone he’s already familiar with. Ultra Magnus would be a good candidate. Ellipses had never had a conversation like the one earlier before with someone who wasn’t a Syntaxicon. It was in-depth and personal.  In addition, Ellipses honestly just wanted to get to know Magnus more.

Chapter Text

Reaching out to Ultra Magnus for help had been one of the best decisions that CTRL had ever made in this life. It had taken some adjusting, but CTRL doesn’t think that he’s ever seen the Syntaxicons this happy since before the war. They were all so much less stressed and happier, which in turn made him less stressed and happier as well. 

Being the leader of the Syntaxicons was the most important job CTRL had. The Syntaxicons put a lot of trust in him, and he didn’t want to disappoint them. Joining the Autobots was not something that they’d all discussed, so CTRL wanted to ensure that everyone was adjusting well. There were a few bumps, but they all eventually settled.

Now here they were getting their Autobot badges and officially joining the Autobots. Other than those guarding the base, every single Autobot on the Ark was in attendance during their initiation ceremony. The Syntaxicons were not used to being the center of attention, so CTRL was worried that they’d get overwhelmed by the crowd. 

Since there was going to be a party after the ceremony, CTRL made an effort to check in on all of the Syntaxicons to make sure that they were enjoying their party. To CTRL’s surprise, they were all fine with the crowd. Usually, he’d expect one or more of them to be hiding in a corner looking for an excuse to leave that CTRL would be happy to provide, but this time, they all seemed happy while talking with the new friends they’d made. 

After making sure they were all fine, CTRL finally found a spot to stay put and let other bots come up to speak with him instead of trying to chase CTRL down as he bounced between his partners. A few bots come up to congratulate him and welcome him. They were all pleasant interactions, but nothing notable. That was until Jazz and Prowl came up to speak with him.

Jazz spoke first, “I was afraid you guys wouldn’t like the party. Or, to be frank, show up,”

CTRL responded, “I was surprised as well. The other Syntaxicons aren’t known for liking this type of stuff, but I checked in on them and they said they were fine,”

“You checked in on them?” Prowl asked.

“Well, yeah, I just wanted to make sure that they were all doing well, and they didn’t need any help,”

“Why would they need help?”

“Well, they tend to get anxious around crowds, and I like to make sure that they don’t need anything like a drink or something else,”

“Oh, that’s what you were doing,”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“Well, we were trying to track you down, but it seemed like you were hovering over and kind of smothering the other Syntaxicons,”

“Prowl,” Jazz whispered yelled through his denta. “What did I say about keeping thoughts to yourself?”

“You thought the same thing,” Prowl defended.

CTRL was confused, “Why do you think that way?”

“Oh, well, we just noticed that you tend to check in on the Syntaxicons constantly,”

“It’s what I do. I’m the gestalt leader; I’m supposed to make sure everyone is happy,”

“Yeah, but your relationship is more complicated than a gestalt leader. You’re their partner. You can’t really be partners if you’re their leader. They’re fully grown mechs,” Prowl looked kind of pained when he said the next part. “I just think you could lay off of them a bit. You’re not their carrier,” Jazz jabbed Prowl in the side. CTRL didn’t know how to respond.

Jazz spoke up, “We’re sorry for bothering you, CTRL. We’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of the party.” 

Jazz grabbed Prowl’s arm and dragged him away, leaving CTRL by himself. The whole conversation left such a bad taste in his mouth that he was thinking about it for the rest of the party. He couldn’t stop thinking about it even when it was over. Is that how he came off to other people? The Syntaxicons had never minded, but they were also too nice to mention stuff like this to him.

Since the Syntaxicons were officially Autobots, they got put on the roster, but also, since they didn’t like fighting, they got put on paperwork. This was probably why everyone was so friendly at the party. CTRL had heard plenty of bots complain about having to do reports, but now they had a 6-bot team to do it for them.

CTRL was working with Ultra Magnus today since they were setting up the system to allow the Syntaxicons to properly do their work. CTRL rather liked Ultra Magnus. He was very kind to the other Syntaxicons, and he always formatted his reports properly, which meant less work for CTRL. He decided Ultra Magnus would be the perfect neutral party to get his opinion on what Prowl said.

“Ultra Magnus, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask for your opinion on a personal matter,”

Magus looked a little startled, “Of course,”

“I had someone come up to me during our initiation party, and they said something that has been bothering me. They said that they felt that I was smothering the other Syntaxicons, and that I was acting more like a mentor than a partner,”

“Who said that to you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need you to solve my battles for me. I just want your thoughts on it. Do I come off like that?”

“Well, it is very obvious that you like to fawn over them, but I’ve never noticed the Syntaxicons being unhappy about it. I never saw it as strange,”

“I just don’t want them to be embarrassed by me,”

“Why would they be embarrassed?”

“Well, the specific words used were you’re not their carrier. They pointed out that a relationship is supposed to be a partnership, and that I was overstepping my role as a gestalt leader. It bothers me because they’re not wrong, but I’ve always taken my role as a gestalt leader very seriously. You’re also a leader of the Wreckers; you understand the feeling,”

“I do. You want to keep them safe, and it’s a responsibility that weighs on your shoulders. The Wreckers are family to me. I presume the feeling would be even stronger when it's your partners. CTRL, this is your relationship, not whoever said this to you. If the Syntaxicons and you have no problem, I don’t see why anyone else should have a way,”

“I suppose you’re right. I guess it just really bothers me that someone saw me like that,”

“CTRL, the Syntaxicons made you leader for a reason,”

“I actually made myself leader,” CTRL interjected.

Magnus stifled a laugh, “Well, they clearly don’t mind since they haven’t kicked you out of the position. Anyway, CTRL, this is how you show that you love the other Syntaxicons. Some random outsider cannot understand what it means to give or receive the love you give. Rest assured, you should continue to do what you do. I mean- Are the Syntaxicons complaining about it?”

“No,”

“Exactly,”

“Thanks for your help, Magnus,”

Ultra Magnus smiled at CTRL, “Anytime.”

The conversation with Ultra Magnus had dispelled the thoughts that had been plaguing CTRL since speaking with Prowl. Magnus was right. It only mattered what he and the other Syntaxicons thought. CTRL loved being able to help his gestalt. It gave him a purpose above the sides of this war. 

After he finished his shift with Magnus, CTRL was stopped in the hall by Perceptor. He told CTRL that Backspace was held up in the library while writing a story. CTRL thanked him, and he stopped by the cafeteria to get a cube for Backspace since he’d likely try to stay and finish again. Backspace beamed when he saw CTRL. CTRL got a thank you kiss and stayed a while to hear a bit about Backspace’s story. 

When CTRL’s own fuel gauge called him, he returned to get himself a cube. He saw the other Syntaxicons in their usual place, but he didn’t see Misclick, though. He made a cube with Misclick just the way he liked it, full of deadly sweet copper and zinc shavings. CTRL caught Misclick on his way over to the Syntaxicons. Misclick’s smile was so cute when CTRl handed him the cube. Misclick gave him a big kiss; it tasted sweet.

They both sat down with the rest of the Syntaxicons. CTRL listened to them all talk about their days and joke with each other. Well, some of them were trying to joke with each other. Typo kept trying to say puns, but he kept saying them wrong. Typo made one so bad that it made everyone else just pause. It was so bad that CTRL burst out laughing. Typo hugged him playfully, and he said that at least one of the Syntaxicons had some humor. 

When they were due to return to their habsuite, CTRL saw that Ellipses had started to clean up everyone’s empty cubes. He decided to help out Ellipses. They walked back to the dispenser and returned the cubes, and Ellipses thanked him for helping. The two of them held hands on their way back to their habsuites. 

CTRL entered his habsuite to see Bracket struggling to buff his backstruts with his claws. Bracket tried to protest, but CTRL forced him to lie down to allow CTRL to buff them for Bracket. CTRL thought that Bracket had fallen into recharge, but when he was down, Bracket rolled over and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Thanks for always taking such great care of us, CTRL.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Every mega-cycle, the Syntaxicons tried to get together to have a team meeting. It was so they could make sure that everyone was happy within their relationship. The meetings could vary in length and topics. The topics could range from someone not doing their chores to what side of the war they’re going to join, or they simply lost track of time while talking about random things. This time, CTRL knew it was going to be a more serious meeting. 

CTRL had something very important to admit to the others. They were all sitting around CTRL’s and Bracket’s habsuite when he decided to just say it. 

“I want to be the one to go first because I have something major to say. Something has come to my attention over the course of the last few orbital cycles that I can no longer ignore,” CTRL paused and his face flushed, “I have a crush on Ultra Magnus.”

CTRL looked down, embarrassed, only to whip his helm back up after he heard someone shout, “You too?”

There was a short pause before all of the Syntaxicons erupted into a flood of words. What could be made out was the realization that CTRL was not the only one to have a crush on Ultra Magnus. Several of them happened to also want to bring it up during one of their many meetings. Misclick was the only one to stay silent during this web of a conversation.

Misclick looked bewildered, “All of you have a crush on Magnus?” They nodded, “I can’t believe it. I also have a crush on him,”

Typo respond, “No duh, even I could tell. I’ve seen how your tail is when you’re around Magnus,” The other Syntaxicons laughed while Misclick’s faceplate flushed blue. 

CTRL spoke up, “Wait, wait, wait, everyone, hush. So we all have a crush on Magnus, right?” Everyone agreed, “Ok, well then, what do we do now? We’ll have to tell him, right?”

The Syntaxicons had to discuss that part. This was the first time that all of them shared a crush on a singular person. It was an opportunity, but it had its risks. The Syntaxicons put Ultra Magnus in very high regard. They didn’t want to make their current friendships with him to become awkward. Though when all 6 parts of your Gestalt bond ache for one person, you decide it’s worth the risk. They could only hope that he’d be willing to date all 6 of them. 

The Syntaxicons decided to confess to Ultra Magnus in his office, since that’s where they’d build their relationships with him. It’s where they’d become friends and fallen in love with him. Each Syntaxicon would take a turn to confess their feelings, and, of course, they’d give him as much time as he needed to give them an answer. They hadn’t felt this giddy since they confessed to each other.

It took some time for them to organize a time when all of their schedules aligned. It was unfortunate that war doesn’t stop for love, but it allowed the Syntaxicons to know exactly what they wanted to say to Ultra Magnus. They did eventually managed to get Magnus in the office with them. The Syntaxicons told Magnus that they wanted to talk to him about something important in his office. They skirted around the topic until Ellipses just had enough of waiting. 

“Ultra Magnus, we need to, I need to confess something to you. Over the past few orbital cycles, I’ve come to the realization that I’m in love with you. After you helped me, I was able to make so many new friends. I’ve always been anxious when talking to others, but never you. I believe that’s because I knew that you would listen. You’re so kind and patient that I couldn’t ignore it, and I cannot ignore my growing feelings.”

Ultra Magnus was frozen in place and looked completely stunned. Backspace decided to go next, “I- I- I agreed with the listening part of what Ellipses said. You are- You’re the only person other than the Syntaixcons that will let me take my time to speak. You listened so well, and you were so compassionate towards my struggles. The more I spent time with you, the more I realized that it was just how you shared compassion for everything, and it made me fall in love with you.”

Magnus’s jaw dropped. Bracket’s confession was next, “I was on the other end of those listening audials as well. You helped me a lot. You noticed such small things like little differences in body movement. It takes a very attentive person to notice such things. You are a very caring person, and it meant a lot to me for you to reach out and help me. I think I fell in love with you not too long after that,”

Magnus still hadn’t moved. Typo spoke up, “You reaching out meant a lot to me as well. I tend to struggle when trying to put two and two together, and you never looked down on me for that. You didn’t get annoyed or angry. Instead, you took the time to defend me, and to find me to make sure I was ok. Who wouldn’t fall in love after something like that?”

Misclick was next; his tail was going crazy, “Going after Typo? What a knight in shining armor. If I were to name a time when I fell in love with you, I’d say it was love at first sight. You’re just so handsome I couldn’t resist. And what a beautiful spark and person that went along with it. You’ve just been so nice to me, and I can’t help being in love with you.”

CTRL was last, “Ultra Magnus, you know quite well that the other Syntaxicons are the most important people in my life. I’ve seen how you’ve cared for and positively benefited them as well as myself. You’ve left an undeniable imprint on us, and I can’t imagine how my life would be if we had never met. You took a chance on an unknown group of Decepticons, and I'm forever grateful. Magnus, I’m in love with you; we all are. You don’t have to give us an answer now. All you’d have to say is you need time, and we’d leave. But we want you to become one of us, and we want to be with you,”

The Syntaxicons all could barely breathe as they waited for Ultra Magnus to do anything other than stare at them in shock. When Magnus finally blinked, he straightened up still with his mouth agape, and then he gave them his answer.

Chapter Text

Ultra Magnus is pretty sure that his processor just short-circuited. When he first found the Syntaxicons in the Decepticon Archives, he wasn’t really sure what to think. It had been a normal mission until CTRL asked the Wrecker for help. Magnus was glad that he had met that plea with open arms instead of suspicion. The privilege to get to know the Syntaxicons had been one of the only good things that had happened to Ultra Magnus in a long time. 

To be completely honest, the times when the Syntaxicons came to help him with reports were his favorite part of the solar cycle. Spending time with them was just amazing. They were some of the only people who could understand why he liked his reports to be done in a certain way. It was nice to be able to work with people who valued work just as much as he did. Though there were other reasons that he enjoyed being with them that went beyond being work-related. 

Ultra Magnus enjoyed who the Syntaxicons were themselves. Their presences, their thoughts, their actions, and essentially just anything they did. He had gotten quite close to the combiner group. It was wonderful to see the previously very anxious and insecure bots gain confidence in themselves. He hadn’t realized what had been developing under the surface at first, but there was a moment that made it so that it was undeniable. 

Magnus had been working on paperwork, and he’d found it incredibly boring. He’d always found his office work to be meditative, but the reason it was now boring to him was because there wasn’t a Syntaxicon there to help him with it. It might sound strange, but that was when he realized he was completely and irrevocably in love with the Syntaxicons. Magnus was now in love, and he couldn’t act on it.

Ultra Magnus had hoped that he was wrong, but in retrospect, you’d have to be blind not to notice how the Syntaxicons looked at Magnus. The reason he had wanted to be wrong was because of his position in the Autobots compared to him. They adored him and looked up to him, and Magnus could not betray that trust by telling them his feelings. He didn’t want them to feel pressured or persuaded because of his position. It was very difficult to live in such a state.

It was made worse by the fact that the Syntaxicons were very open about their love for each other. It was hard for Magnus since he knew how they’d treat him in a theoretical relationship. He could merely be walking through the halls and see exactly what he desired so much, but Magnus had to stay silent. It's not like they could love him back. It would be delusional to think so; it would be impossible for all 6 of them to feel the same. 

That belief is why he was so stunned when they all confessed to him. This was everything he had hoped for, but Ultra Magnus didn’t know what to say. He knew his answer was yes, of course, but he had to get the actual words out of his mouth. Magnus wished he had more time to formulate a proper response, but he couldn’t wait. They’d told him such sweet words, and Magnus wanted to say what he felt in return. 

He took a deep breath, “Ellipses, I feel the same about you. I’m happy that I was able to help you. I told you that I had similar problems of scaring people away, and I’m so glad that you weren’t scared. You’re so kind. I’ve really enjoyed being able to bring my walls down around you, and I’ve really come to love the person I meet after you let your own down as well,” Magnus could hear Ellipses gasp in excitement, and all of the other Syntaxicons had their own moment to stare with their mouths open.

“Backspace, I’m in love with you as well. You’re so intelligent and creative. I love hearing you speak, and it’s a privilege to be able to hear your thoughts. We’re very similar in the fact that we both tend to overthink things, but I’d love to be able to be imperfect with you,” Backspace covered his faceplate because he was blushing.

“Bracket, you care so deeply for others; I love that about you. I’d love to be able to care that deeply for you in return. If you ever forget to take care of yourself, I want to be the one to remind you. I’d say you are just as attentive as you say I am,” Bracket’s claws started to fidget in embarrassment. 

“Typo, you always look for the best in people, and you trust so much in that belief. You’re so kind and loving, not to mention forgiving. I really admire that of you. I could only hope to be half the person you are. I want to be the one there to defend you because you’re someone I love,” Typo tried his face behind his servos.

“Misclick,” Magnus sighed. “You’re just so cute with your tail and your clumsiness. You always wear your emotions on your sleeve, and you’ve never been afraid to share them. So let me share mine with you. I think you’re adorable, and I love you and want to be with you,” Misclick’s tail went wildly back and forth.

“And CTRL, you’re so strong, and I’m so happy that you took a risk to ask for help because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met any of you. I see how you care for your gestalt, and I’ll admit that ever since I realized my own feelings, I’ve been a little jealous. But now things are different. I want to be the one taking care of you because I love you,” CTRL’s head monitor began to show static as he blushed.

“You all have left an undeniable imprint on me as well. I want to be in the future you imagine. The one that includes you all and me. If you couldn’t tell, my answer is yes. I want to be with you, and I-,” Ultra Magnus paused, realizing the full weight of his next words. “I love you all; I want you all.”

The office was silent as everyone there fully took in what had just happened. It soon became loud as the Syntaxicons descended onto Ultra Magnus. They were all crying in relief and excitement for their new addition. This was everything they could have ever hoped for. Ultra Magnus was completely smothered by every single one of them, trying to give him plenty of kisses. Magnus felt so overwhelmed yet so happy. This is exactly what he’d been dreaming of. 

This relationship was definitely going to be a learning process as he enmeshed himself into their dynamic, but he was honestly overjoyed. It might bring some difficulties as they learn even more about each other, but at least Magnus will have them at his side to figure it out with him. Magnus hoped the future brought just as much happiness as this moment.