Ratchet has the hardest job of all Transformers even back at the Ark, but now he’s doing emergency surgery in the middle of London rush hour and sweating transmission fluid. “Someone call for an emergency tow!” he yells desperately.
“I’ve got a better idea,” says a dark-robed, ice-blonde young man. He waves his wand and whisks them all magically toward the nearest garage.
Ratchet turns to him, eyes glowing with gratitude. “How can I repay you, Mr–?”
“It’s Professor,” smirks the man, “Professor Malfoy,” and though robots have no lips, they lean close and THIS WAS A TERRIBLE PROMPT
Terpsichore winced as her stiff neck cracked. She’d been working for hours on her newest creation, but it was nowhere near complete.
“You’ll kill yourself, slaving away at this.” RicJames82 approached and massaged her shoulders; Terpsichore closed her eyes and sighed.
“It’s important,” she replied. “A fictive exegesis of the themes of Book 5, through the lens of–“
“Shh.” He inhaled her hair-scent. “It’ll wait. Other things demand your attention.”
“Like what?”
“How did I get here?” said Draco Malfoy. “Where are my trousers?”
“You’re writing metafanfic again, aren’t you,” sighs Cal, behind her.
“Nothing!” says Jeannie, trying to switch windows.