Slenderwave - Blog Posts

@slenderwave a theory as to why he can’t bake cookies?

[I swear I’m done for the night >w<]

Sometimes, Soundwave can be too clever for his own good, getting himself into trouble nobody else is capable of digging up just because he found an interesting data trail.

Other times, all the information in the world isn’t enough to stop him making what is, in hindsight, an incredibly ill-advised decision.

Smarting off to Starscream on Aquatron, for example. Convincing Jazz to steal the phase shifter from Smokescreen. Or—and this one is a spectacular addition to his mental hall of bad decision fame—deciding to investigate Whirl’s Cybertron while channeling Allspark energy through his hands because it seems less likely to work somewhere so far from home.

In his defense, it’d made sense at the time. Junkion, Velocitron, and the other colony planets of his home dimension had constantly struggled to maintain their connections. Going into another branch altogether should’ve nullified the magic for the duration of his visit.

It did not, in fact, do that. It didn’t even dampen things a little.

No, it worked exactly as well as if he’d been on his own Cybertron the whole time. Better, even, for a specific and deeply dismaying definition of the word.

He happened to find this out, you see, when his walk through the land a little ways out past the fringes of Iacon led him to lose his footing in a patch of unstable ground. A panel of peeling, brittle metal had shifted and crumbled into scree beneath him, causing him to slide back with it. Without thinking, he’d bent forward to steady himself, one hand planted firmly on the ground—

And because the multiverse was merciful, saw no effect from the touch.

But!

But.

The multiverse is also a cruel, deceptive glitch with a razor sharp sense of humor, which means something ancient—and more importantly, borrowed from someone a hundred times more powerful than himself—stirred inside his chassis not a moment later, too warm and too loud and too bright as it reached out through his fingertips and connected with Cybertron’s freshly energized surface.

Every light on his frame flared painfully bright, stuttered, and then faded.

Naturally, it took him another few seconds to realize that they’d gone dim again. Confusion of that type is to be expected when one abruptly becomes surrounded by a field’s worth of little blue balls of sunlight.

It is here that Soundwave now stands, every last plate on his frame compressed in pure horror while his mind races down a thousand separate tracks, only to arrive at a single succinct (if inelegant) conclusion:

Frag.