I wasn't the one who wrote a poem about riding me.
[So.... Take that!
But... He would actually love to give her a ride one day. In the non-sexual way, of course. Really, he would. Just living in their own little world while ignoring everything else. But of course this is Soundwave we're talking about, here. His pride alone prevents him from admitting to want this fantasy made into reality.
But like he said, if she asked him to take her out on a ride, he wouldn't hesitate. Hell, he might even give her a ride of a lifetime So... He'd wait for the day she asked for it instead. And when they find a suitable place for a joy ride. He's on the record for having the most reddest face ever. Monika is making his flush worse with her sweet words and the boop to his nose.]
I... Would you like to keep writing about me.
[His pride wars with gratitude and appreciation for the poem she dedicated to him, it wars between him not deserving of such things and wanting them, but the poem ultimately is a welcome balm to his spark. Though he's extremely flustered and frazzled, it also soothes him inside. It makes him happy. It makes him feel as if he's special to her. Maybe even loved.... Ah, he shouldn't be thinking her this way. It's just a friendly gesture.
Though it's getting increasingly difficult to keep going back to the friendly excuse with the gestures she keeps making, like resting her forehead on him. It feels nice... ]
We didn't have any time for things like this. We were in a war for... Over four million years.
[Which was basically most of his lifespan. It's not like he never had any sweet moments with his past friends before. Plenty were made during their time together since they first found him at the dreg while he was off living on a dirty street. But in regards to gifts... he can't say he received any like the poem she wrote.]
So... Thank you, Monika. You make me... happy, as well, and I'll be happy if you... keep giving me things like this. [Gosh, still so difficult to admit that, but there's one more thing he wants say. It's a request, rather.] Could you... read the poem to me again? So, I can commit it to my memory.
no subject
[So.... Take that!
But... He would actually love to give her a ride one day. In the non-sexual way, of course. Really, he would. Just living in their own little world while ignoring everything else. But of course this is Soundwave we're talking about, here. His pride alone prevents him from admitting to want this fantasy made into reality.
But like he said, if she asked him to take her out on a ride, he wouldn't hesitate. Hell, he might even give her a ride of a lifetime So... He'd wait for the day she asked for it instead. And when they find a suitable place for a joy ride. He's on the record for having the most reddest face ever. Monika is making his flush worse with her sweet words and the boop to his nose.]
I... Would you like to keep writing about me.
[His pride wars with gratitude and appreciation for the poem she dedicated to him, it wars between him not deserving of such things and wanting them, but the poem ultimately is a welcome balm to his spark. Though he's extremely flustered and frazzled, it also soothes him inside. It makes him happy. It makes him feel as if he's special to her. Maybe even loved.... Ah, he shouldn't be thinking her this way. It's just a friendly gesture.
Though it's getting increasingly difficult to keep going back to the friendly excuse with the gestures she keeps making, like resting her forehead on him. It feels nice... ]
We didn't have any time for things like this. We were in a war for... Over four million years.
[Which was basically most of his lifespan. It's not like he never had any sweet moments with his past friends before. Plenty were made during their time together since they first found him at the dreg while he was off living on a dirty street. But in regards to gifts... he can't say he received any like the poem she wrote.]
So... Thank you, Monika. You make me... happy, as well, and I'll be happy if you... keep giving me things like this. [Gosh, still so difficult to admit that, but there's one more thing he wants say. It's a request, rather.] Could you... read the poem to me again? So, I can commit it to my memory.