Author's Notes: More drabbles and more smiles. Please review and let me know what you like or want more of. Energon-o's are a Transformer cereal commercial on You tube worth watching (not healthy). "Kibble" refers to Cybertronian parts unnecessary for core functioning like Wing doors, stylish design panels, antenna helms, tails, claws and such. Can be small parts or whole sections but not protoform basic required. Onward to old and new fun.

Drabble # 178

"It's Energon-O's" Annabelle corrected, stuffing another spoonful of cereal. The healthy light blue cubes a creation of Ratchet, the nickname from Sam sticking much to the medic's displeasure.

"Cheetos for me," Will teased back, grabbing a handful.

"Cheetle, orange dust."

"When I was your age, food was apple, beef, and cucumber. Not all these silly names."

"I like silly. And daddy," she looked up at him. "Can I get some kibble?"

"High in sugar?"

"No sugar."

"Sure sweetie."

Later that afternoon Annabelle replayed the conversation. "See, Kibble ok."

Wheeljack hummed, accepting the answer. "Autobot parts aka kibble for you then."

Drabble # 179 (On Cybertron pre arrival Earth)

Elita stopped suddenly, smirking. "Let's send Shockwave a hologram."

"Are you thick chipped? We are as slagged as his spare lab," Chromia snarked, pointing at the collapsed Cybertronian dome building still smoking then at their assembled injuries from the battle and escape.

"Use a soft filter on foreground, hide our scratches," Moonracer suggested, limping closer while holding up fellow warrior Flareup.

"Send one optic a message."

"Funny coming from a warrior with one foot."

"It's replaceable. His lab isn't."

"No weapons. Only us posing as femme warriors."

"Our strength."

"Our precision."

"We did it together. And here's proof," Elita finished.

Drabble # 180

"Rain. Heavy at times. Northerly wind with gusts as high as thirty miles per hour," Cliffjumper read the weather report.

"How can rain be heavy? Moisture is a constant mass or weight on earth. And not acid destroying like Cybertron's," Mirage commented, dreading their upcoming patrol assignment

"Heavy as in amount," Sergeant Epps commented, donning a rain slicker.

"Then why not specify?"

"Would you prefer gully washer, torrential downpour, monsoon, wash out, deluge, cloudburst, or drencher?"

"I prefer the warm dry brig," Sunstreaker smirked, subspacing out his rifle.

Prowl read Red Alert's message with disbelief. "They all blasted recycle bins?"

Drabble # 181

"Perceptor," Ratchet approached the Autobot scientist empty handed. Any datapad or additional information to distract and the CMO would be stuck waiting.

The red and blue colored microscope on the counter hopped onto the floor before mass displacing back to Cybertronian size and transforming. "Salutations venerable colleague."

"I need your perspicacity," Ratchet matched Perceptor's extensive vocabulary.

"Undubitably forwith with expectancy."

"No formal terminology, a simple answer works," Ratchet reminded, sending the data.

"You require a possibility relatively ameliorate or exemplification and abjure errors?"

"Primus give me patience. Can you build a space bridge to Cybertron with those parts?"

"Affirmatively conceivable."

Drabble # 182 (On Cybertron pre arrival Earth)

Inside his main lab, Shockwave challenged the Decepticon trooper. "A hologram? No written message or other communication?"

Back at the femme's quarters, Elita hung the original image on the wall proudly.

Pictured furthest left, Flareup balanced on one foot while reaching up and turned to hide her charred side. Chromia faced forward, ever defiant and broken left hand hid behind Elita. The Femme Commander raised one fist in defiance, allowing Moonracer to balance while barely functional and optics out. Arcee poised arms up to hide her damage and counteract her shattered backplates.

"Lab in the junk bin, another femme win."