...I'm going through one of my semi-annual "Dang it Megs, just take me now!" episodes.

*Sigh*

I love "being" Optimus Prime.
I love living in an alternate universe where the main struggle is not to defeat the Decepticons, but to live with them and rebuild society.
I love having Old Bucket-Head as my bond-brother. We have epic snark-fests, I-Prime and he.
I love that all this stuff feels so darn real.

But every so often, the fact that I'm actually a human female throws a wrench into the works.

So I end up, as Prime, being all, "Danggggg iiiiitt!! Wanna da Clangg-Clanggggg!!"
Which hashes the whole Bro-fist thing all to slag (and kinda frustrates Elita).
And makes me-Ha-Hee feel bad, since I'm, you know, married, and shouldn't be chasing after imaginary giant robots.

And stuff.

What do I do when the Urge bites me?
I write about it, of course. It's how I work things out, dontcha know. Hey, it worked once before... [link]

So expect one of these days a thingie containing such illuminating literary moments as, "Elita, what the slag is my problem?"

...

And then I'll get back to writing the REAL story, which is hopefully going to be quite good, and not about bots frolicking at all.

...Much.

Anyways, wish me luck.

--Prime out.