= Sweet Vibrations =

By Ayngel

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or any of the characters or concepts within. I make no money from this story or any other about Transformers.

Warnings: Adult themes, course language, slash, sexual references and descriptions. Applies to robosex and human sex.

In which Bee tries to find his 'perfect match' and Rumble finds an unexpected ally ...

~ Chapter 8 ~

On the Nemesis –

Even though Rumble was trying to walk slowly, he seemed to be getting to his quarters far too fast.

Beside him, Kickback bristled, all charm and twitching antennae and good looks. Rumble had to admit he could see why this particular cyber-specimen was so successful at getting what he wanted in the Decepticon ranks. But slag it! Insecticons were their tastes, not his!

Instead, the more Kickback itched to get his antennae into – well it was very obvious what the slagger wanted to get them into - the more Rumble reeled inside. Why the frag had Soundwave encouraged this?

But the imperative in his creator's tone, as he cut in on comm, was unmistakeable: /Proceed to immediate interface. With Insecticon subject. /

Rumble despaired. This was catastrophic! He had to try and 'get through' to Soundwave somehow.

/Look - Sounders, the search'll be useless without me … / he tried to say.

/No arguments, Rumble! Megatron fears for another – bungle. Status – not amused. Incurring his wrath – unacceptable! Rectification of problem - must be immediate!/

"It can't be far now!" the Insecticon purred in his charming little voice.

Snapping off the comm, Rumble grunted. Hunching up his shoulders, he stumped along in a way which he hoped made his sentiments clear. He thought of Bumblebee, and his spark filled with pain. As if he didn't have little enough chance with the minibot as it was! Bumblebee's first time would be a 'delicate' event. As if he'd even look at Rumble if he thought an Insecticon had had a go.

And it was then that Rumble felt his programming shift, and strange sensations rocking his processor. He was not doing this! And he didn't care what Megatron or Soundwave or any other slaggin' con wanted. He was in love! There was only one in the Universe for him - and only one possible course of action right now: he was losing the bug. As a matter of priority.

Rumble's step faltered a little as an unaccustomed queasiness swept over him – and it wasn't because of Kickback. He had never before openly defied Soundwave.

Well, there had never been a 'situation' – like this before, he thought, frowning as his resolve hardened. Besides, had he not read some scrap somewhere that 'love conquers all?' Yeah! Well it could conquer Soundwave's dumb suggestions here. If Rumble could just escape back into his room - without the bug - he would put the tape somewhere and everything else would fall into place.

With any luck he'd be back in the briefing room in no time anyway. Knowing Mirage, he was long gone – and it was only microseconds before every Decepticon would be summoned back to hear the leader roar: "and just what the Hell were you fools doing?" in the wake of which, hopefully, his little act of rebellion would pass unnoticed, and he could figure out a plan to solve his 'problem' with who he wanted to solve it with.

...

Still on the Nemesis, in Rumble's room –

As the footsteps grew closer, the Insecticon's hissing intakes were clearly audible. Mirage looked around the room. He was amazed to see such a miserable little hovel. Cold and smelly, one wall was damp – not surprising seeing as how there was a crack on the far side along the ceiling seam, through which water oozed. Mirage watched as a crab made its way slowly across the wall. He couldn't help feeling a little disappointed in Soundwave. He would have thought his old mentor would have at least provided better for his own creations.

But there was no time to think of it - the voices were right outside the door. "Look Kickie …" Rumble was saying. "It's not that bugs ... I mean - Insecticons - ain't my thing. It's just that - well, mech - we have kinda got a situation here. I got responsibilities!"

This evidently did not deter Kickback. "Now look - I may not have all Shrapnel's talents," he cooed. "But apart from the lightning, there isn't much he can do with his antlers that I can't do with my antennae. Its true. I swear on the Hives of Alcyone!"

Mirage shivered, memories of spidery little fingers and delightful little bursts of current invading his processor. But he pulled himself together, as usual shocked at himself. Primus forbid that the Autobots ever find out that the reason he squirmed so much over the whole cerebroshell episode was not out of loathing at the memory, but because he'd enjoyed it so much!

But there seemed no such prospect with the cassette. There was the sound of metal scraping on metal, followed by a small 'slapping sound' and the Insecticon saying: "Ouch!"

"Look, Kickie – I'm sorry …" Rumble was saying. "I just need to kinda psych myself up, see? So I can do the whole - uh - interface thing justice, if ya know what I mean! Just gimme a minute. OK?"

Mirage continued his inspection, looking at the floor. There was junk everywhere! Nevertheless, his optics fell on a data-pad, over the top screen of which extremely poor handwriting sprawled. His optic ridges furrowed in puzzlement. The item caught his attention - not because there was anything surprising about it, but because out of the sprawl, right there, he could make out words. Rather unexpected words. The words: 'Ode to Bumblebee,' to be precise.

The spy squinted, magnifying the subject matter. His optics widened in amazement. The words were followed, not by the barrage of foul language about 'Autobozos' and 'slagheads' and 'sissies' which it surely had been bound to do, but instead, with what appeared to be - oh surely not, Mirage must be seeing things - poetry, and words of - love?

Amazed, Mirage reached down and picked up the pad. As his super-fast processor quickly analyzed the contents of the pad, his optics became wider. "Well I'll be Primus darned!" he muttered.

The spy's spark flickered with a curious excitement. How incredible it was, the way the universe seemed to work at times - so that just when you thought a situation was totally screwed, things landed in your lap. For here - incredibly, impossibly – there seemed to be a way in which Mirage might solve at least one of his problems.

And the wider implications were even better. For even though it was probably the worst poetry Mirage had ever read in his life, and it was unquestionably crude, there was an innocent sincerity which left him feeling strangely moved. He could not remember the last time he even read Cybertronian poetry; and if Rumble could do this – Rumble, of all mechs - well, was it not irrevocable proof that the Decepticons were not always the bunch of sparkless blockheads the Autobots made them out to be?

The racer's spark warmed as a delighted smile crept on to his faceplates. Of course, Rumble may have gotten this from somewhere else. But Mirage didn't think so; and If he was right, then he may not have to conceal some of his 'friendships' nearly as much as he had. And how pleased some others would be! Mirage could hardly wait to see the smile on the orange crane's face.

There were muffled noises outside, followed by a dull thud. "Gerroff!" shouted the cassette. And then, the door shot open.

Quickly, Mirage retreated to a back corner of the room, checking that the electro disruptor concealed both him – and the pad – completely.

...

At the Warehouse ...

The warehouse moved in the wind, the roar of Autobot engines still audible over the creaking of its rickety structure. "But – they're the Autobots! It can't be that bad!" Spike was saying, as the engines drew closer. "Look – just tell me quickly about it. When they get here, I'll do the talking! I'm sure we can sort this out ..."

But Bumblebee had already transformed, his engine revving wildly. A door flew open to reveal his pink seats. "Spike I'm telling ya. This ain't like that. Now get in – please – we gotta roll out. I'll explain on the way!"

With a sigh, Spike scrambled in. Before he even had time to put on his seatbelt, the wind was knocked out of him as Bumblebee took off, headed for the warehouse door.

Oh man, did Bumblebee even know where he was going? Spike did not think he had ever seen his friend so 'strung out.' Not even that time when he, Spike, got turned into a robot. "Go out the left back exit and you'll see a laneway," he said, hanging on as the yellow car bounced erratically across the yard. "Go down it, and then straight across. There's a maze of alleys at the back of Chip's suburb. They'll never find us in there!"

Chip! He hadn't even commed Chip! Spike tried the frequency. A beeping sound told him his friend was busy. Darn it! Well never mind, they'd go there anyway. It was the best place, whatever was going on - he had to sort Bee out somehow. And Chip was good like that. Yes – Chip approached Transformers in a 'logical' way, thus appealing to their 'robot-ness' as opposed to the 'emotional' side of their natures.

He'd even analyzed what had happened at the parade 'logically,' concluding very that what had hit him was Decepticon shrapnel, and that one of the Autobots had been too embarrassed about its presence to reveal its existence – a theory later confirmed. There really was no need for Bee to think Chip 'must hate him.' Even his friend's head was pretty much healed - although he did still have a bandage around it.

As they wove their way through the network, the sounds of the Autobots were soon gone, drowned out by factory noises all around from the looming industrial buildings. Bumblebee seemed to relax - just a little.

"Don't you think its time you told me what's happening?" Spike seized the opportunity to say.

Bumblebee let out a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "But its kinda - complicated."

…

Back on the Nemesis …..

Rumble shot through the door, his processor in a whirl. What did he just do? Soundwave was gonna kill him! The cassette's energon chamber lurched – but then he thought of Bumblebee and his spark pounded with resolve. Yeah! The hell with Soundwave!

Besides, one touch from the Insecticon, and the creepy horror which jangled like ice through his circuits and Rumble had decided had no problem in showing Kickback what the hell he thought of Megatron's 'orders' too!

And he hadn't hit the Insecticon hard. Just enough that he could get through the door and then slam it in his face. But the little fragger was fast – and resilient. Instead of falling down, Kickback cackled delightedly, darting in after Rumble before he could so much as raise a servo.

Well, there was nothing for it but to take things a stage further. Steeling himself, Rumble gave the command which would prime his piledrivers. But then, things happened very fast ...

Kickback was barely through the door, when he seemed to 'seize.' His optics widened in surprise and then, for a split second, a wicked grin appeared on his faceplates and his wings strummed hard. "Mirage …" he muttered. "Nice ..." Before his optics glazed over, wings freezing as he dropped to the floor.

Rumble gaped, the realization that he was not alone in here and who he was not alone with careening in – microseconds before he was grabbed. And then, before he could even move, he felt warm metal hard against his back as a hand closed over his mouth as the tape fell from his grasp.

"I believe you have a partiality to a certain Autobot minibot?" said a smooth voice.

Rumble struggled, trying to bring his hands up and at the same time activate his piledrivers. But there was a click and a sharp pain in his wrist, closely followed by every one of his locomotor systems seizing.

"Sorry," Mirage said. "Little trick I learned at the Trion Academy. But don't worry. It's only an override. Not an interface."

Rumble tried anew to struggle, and couldn't. He tried to yell, but he couldn't move his mouth to shape any words. All that came out was: "Unnnggggrrrhhh …."

"Now, let's see …. " Mirage said in that slaggin' infuriating Towers drawl which never changed. "Bumblebee - apparently - makes your circuits 'sizzle,' other parts of your anatomy 'fizzle,' and your spark 'ignite' when you are in combat?"

Wildly, Rumble rolled his optics. To his horror – his complete and utter horror – he saw that that Mirage was removing his invisibility device, and that he had in his materializing hand the datapad. The datapad! The one his entire spark had gone into. The one which outpoured of his love in a way no other Decepticon had ever done before!

"Ungggrrrhhh!" Oh how inadequate that was! Oh how he wanted to call Mirage all the names in the universe he could think of. And even then, none of the extremely colorful terminology in his processor right now would have even come close to how he felt about the snotty, sneaky despicable upper crust aft!

"And – if I understand this correctly – Bumblebee makes your circuits go like 'goo' and you stumble in darkness without him, even prepared to risk the wrath of Megatron just to be with him?" Mirage was going on.

Rumble seethed. He tried again to activate his piledrivers, but they remained firmly locked down. He thought of Soundwave – not that he really wanted to, after the slagger's unfeeling and horrendous orders, but hell, this was an emergency! But even his comm seemed to have somehow been disabled.

Summoning all his limited powers of concentration, Rumble managed just to override Mirage's paralysis program enough to move his mouth. But whilst he meant to yell: "Frag off!" accompanied by a string of the aforethought expletives, he found, to his surprise, that what came out was: "If you do anythin' to hurt Bee, you're slaggin' dead!"

Mirage's grip relaxed; and Rumble felt just the smallest amount of sensation trickle back to his locomotor systems. The spy chuckled – but it wasn't unkind. "I have to be honest Rumble, I can't see your poetry ever appearing in the Master Arts Archives of Cybertron," Mirage said. "But I can see why you wrote it, and now your sentiments are obvious. I feel – touched."

With the little bit of strength back, Rumble struggled again. "I don't want it in the slagging master whatever!" he seethed. "An' if you ever show that to anyone, or take the piss out of it, you're history! So history - you posh pile of scrap metal!"

It occurred to Rumble that this might not be the wisest thing he could say, given his present circumstances. But Mirage seemed unfazed. "I have no intention of doing any such thing!" the spy said. "I propose instead - to make a deal!"

"A deal?" Rumble snarled. "What deal? Who d'you think you are? Swindle?"

The hand was removed from Rumble's mouth, and then he was being turned around to face Mirage. He felt the wrist connection drop out - yet the spy's grip was like iron, and his optics glittered very blue - in a way which made Rumble slightly regret his little tirade. Kickback's body, still motionless, caught his optic. He swallowed, hard.

But Mirage's finely chiseled face was sincere. "I'm serious!" He was saying. "I mean a deal where I honor my end of the bargain. You get me out of here and I will give you back your systems, spare you, and give you your spark's desire. Now how does that sound?"

For just a moment, Rumble believed that Mirage was serious. But then – naaa! That was ridiculous! The pitspawned, stuck up Autobot was just using him –and his delicate sensitivities – to get out of here. And in the most despicable way!

Rumble figured he'd mustered just enough strength to give flattening the spy a serious try. But just then, his proximity sensors detected a familiar energy signature.

"You're too late!" he sneered. "Sounders is on his way!"

...

On the way to Chip's place ...

It was not Spike's imagination that Bumblebee's cab was considerably hotter – and the heater wasn't on. Despite feeling a little guilty, now he knew understood the tragedy of the parade, Spike found himself excited – and not in the same way as when The Autobots completed one of their periodic defeats of the Decepticons.

No – the human was excited in the same way he had felt when Wheeljack took him on one side one day when the Autobots were out fighting and told him all about interfacing, and connections and overloads and even replication sequences. Which was roughly the same 'excited' he'd felt in the school biology class a few years back, and then the school dance.

But Wheeljack had also told him never to mention the subject in front of Bee. "He hasn't reached that time, see!" Wheeljack had said. "He should have, in my view. I told Ratchet he oughtta have a thorough overhaul, let me see what the problem was. But he wouldn't hear of it."

"No good will come of it, I'm telling ya!" Wheeljack had gone on. "But in the meantime – its kinda delicate with the little fragger!"

Obviously, all that had changed. And Wheeljack had been right! But Bumblebee had been relieved to talk about it, and now seemed more relaxed. "You know about how we – connect?" he'd said. "Well darn it Spike! I'd have told you before. I didn't think humans got 'into' that kinda thing!"

Spike was tempted to explain the function of that part of his anatomy Bee had gawped at the day he forgot his trunks at the dam, and how after the 'talk' with Wheeljack he had realized that humans and Transformers were really quite similar after all – in some ways. But now did not really seem the right time. Besides, he had not forgotten that Bumblebee's suitors were probably prowling the nearby streets right now,"

"Which way now!" Bee said, sounding anxious again. "I can't pick any signatures, but can you hear anybody? I tell you Spike – it's not that I don't think all the Autobots are amazing. But I just don't wanna do it with Gears – or any of them. I want it to be – special."

There was not a sign of another Transformer. Spike gave new directions, his heart going out to his friend. For he remembered well how he'd gotten a hard on at that school dance, and how he was surrounded by tittering teenage girls, who were all telling him how 'mature' he was for his years. Panic had descended, Spike had departed, only to be told off later for not taking his cousin Astoria anyway. Which would certainly have 'dampened' matters somewhat - even if she was a great deal richer than he and he would ever be.

And how many years now had Sparkplug been eagerly trying to match him up with Astoria? Even after the Powerglide episode he went 'on' about it. Even though - Primus forbid - Spike was hard pushed to imagine a girl who turned him on less. And for him, too, there was one girl at that dance who had been 'special, but she had always been distant with him - even now - and Spike had never known whether it was because of the unspeakable bulge in his pants that night or because he just didn't do it for her the way she did for him ...

He patted Bee's dashboard, full of new understanding. "Say, it's OK!" he said. "I kinda see what you mean, and I can see why Gears doesn't do it for you. But say – Bee – it's the Autobots! There must be one of them kinda – frizzles your circuits?"

A shudder went through Bumblebee. "Don't say stuff like that, Spike!" he wailed. "Not at a time like this! I've been keeping the lid on my urges whilst I've been telling y'all this, and I seem to have been in a bit of a 'lull.' But I really don't wanna get turned on again!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Spike removed his hand. Much as the whole thing intrigued him, he did not really wish to be traveling in his friend if the 'urges' came on.

"It's hard to explain," Bumblebee rattled along. "It's weird! The only ones I've gotten worked up about don't want me and I'm having some really weird thoughts about who my 'first' might be, and Mirage was supposed to be getting someone, but now he's gone off on this mission and I'm gonna have to do it soon and I don't know who its gonna be!"

They were entering the suburb where Chip lived and the factories and industrial buildings gave way to small detached houses which sped past as Bumblebee crunched gears.

Spike thought again of the dance. At least seeing that girl - no, Carly, he thought fondly - had made him see at an early age exactly what he'd wanted. Even though he still had no real hope of getting it - no matter how good friends they had become and how much they had in common - at least he still knew, and hadn't been left to wonder of there would ever be anyone. A moment of melancholy descended upon the ordinarily cheerful human. He felt so sorry for Bee.

/Spike?/ It was Chip's voice. /There's a missed call on the com. Wassup, buddy?/

Spike realized he'd gotten so 'into' he and Bee's romantic predicaments that he'd forgotten all about coming Chip back. But now, he had an idea.

/Chip? Look this is – uh – real secret human Autobot stuff. Prime's secret orders. I'm bringing Bumblebee to – uh – stay at your place for a bit. And in the meantime I want you to consult with Teletraan one and see who out of all the Autobots would make his most ideal – uh - interface partner. But don't tell Teletraan where Bee is!/

Chip made a puzzled sounding noise. /You got it Spike!/ he said. Plenty of room in the garage since my uncle left. But what's with the big secret? And the – uh – interfacing. It's kinda – a bit outta my usual line of work!/

I need a logical approach. /You gotta trust me on this one Chip. You're my best buddy. Right?/

Chip's voice came back full of enthusiasm and resolve. /OK! You got it!/

…

Back on the Nemesis ….

Mirage's hands were planted on Rumble's shoulders as he looked into his optics. "Rumble I'm serious!" he said. "Of course I don't want to be interrogated by Soundwave! But its not just that. We can help each other. If you truly want Bumblebee as much as you say you do, then I alone can bring this about. You have to believe me!"

All Rumble's systems were now back online, and it would have been the simplest thing for him to whip out his piledrivers and give the Autobot spy a pounding he wouldn't forget in a hurry. Instead, the cassette found to his astonishment that he did believe Mirage. And maybe this was only because he wanted to believe him, and he was still pissed at Soundwave for fitting him up with the bug – after all, Mirage was still a no good Autobot aft - but believe him, he did. And - more amazing still (if not unashamedly) - he trusted him.

There was, however, one very obvious impediment. And it would soon be here. /Rumble?/ Soundwave commed. /Neural energy waves - detected; location - in the vicinity of our quarters; identity - Mirage; advise - caution!/

Mirage glanced at the door. "You need to get rid of him!"

But at that, Rumble paled. "I can't …" he stammered.

Mirage raised an optic ridge. "Bumblebee's 'cute yellow sexy hide?'"

Rumble felt his systems spasm with heat. He sighed. There really was no option. He cleared his throat. /Look - Soundwave - there ain't nobody in my room!/ the cassette said. /Now - if you recall I'm in the middle of a slightly delicate operation! On your orders!/

He glanced guiltily again at Kickback, who still had not moved. And next to Kickback was - the tape. In all the kerfuffle, Rumble had almost forgotten the catastrophic 'evidence.' And Mirage had not even noticed it!

/Telling of truth - negative! You are no more interfacing than I am Optimus Prime!/ intoned Soundwave. /I have with me the Insecticon Bombshell. He needs to see Kickback./

Rumble's jaw fell open. He gaped at Mirage."He brought the other Primus damned bug!" he said incredulously. As far as the cassette was concerned, it was the last straw.

Mirage frowned. He also looked at Kickback. "We have to get out of here now," he said. "Is there anywhere nearby that we can exit the Nemesis?"

"Yeah – there's a secret airlock just down next to Soundwave's room!"

"Right. Let's go." But Mirage found the way barred suddenly by the cassette, and a pain in his midriff as something pointy was poked into it. "What are you doing?" he gasped as he caught sight of a gun in Rumble's hand. "We just made a deal!"

"There's one more thing!" Rumble snarled. Leaning down, he reached down and grabbed the tape from the floor.

"One more part of our 'deal!'" he said. "You gotta help me get rid of this!"

Mirage stared at the tape in amazement. "That isn't by any chance …" Rumble nodded. "You got it, flashpants. Bee's popping! There ain't no way he's gonna be shamed."

Now Mirage truly believed that Primus was on his side today. And his spark stirred, as he was touched further in the way he had been by the poetry. "No problem!" he grinned, taking the tape and tucking it in an arm compartment as Rumble removed the gun. "Now – we gotta go! Take my hand!"

But Rumble darkened. "Hey – I ain't taking nobody's hand. Whaddya think I …." But he had no time to protest further as Mirage grabbed hold of him. The air shimmered as they both disappeared.

...

If Bee had had less on his mind, he would have wondered at the extent of Chip's genius - even with a bandaged head. He had never known Chip could make a cloaking device. Any more than he thought he would fit into Chip's front room. But he had managed to squeeze through the door in root mode and now was hunched an all fours behind Chip and Spike, confident that at least here he was saved from his marauding faction members as they all stared at the computer screen.

The minibot could hardly believe the data which was appearing before his optics. The computer whiz's optics sparkled. "This is sensational!" Chip was saying."You see, I wanted to check Teletraan One was fully programmed to take into account all contingencies – so as a preliminary I did a search of all the interfaces all the Autobots had ever had with other Autobots. And this is what I got!"

Bumblebee looked at the screen, and felt a stab of dismay as a long catalogue of Autobot names flicked past. Save for a few of the more firmly bonded couples, many encounters flashing up opposite each one; and even with the bonded ones, names appeared which didn't belong to the 'mate.'

"Primus!" Spike said, as though echoing his thoughts. "I knew they thought Sunstreaker was a looker. But is there anyone hasn't had it of with? Or Tracks, or …"

"Windcharger?" Bumblebee's optics widened. "I never knew he was such a little goer!"

"Yeah!" Chip sounded equally enthralled. "Check out Brawn's credentials. And Cliffjumper, he went with …."

"Haven't we seen enough!" Bumblebee found himself less than amused at seeing his cousins' activities displayed before the humans. Even if they were his friends. Frankly, he wasn't impressed with Teletraan for divulging the information! "I don't want to know all this!" he sniffed. "I wanna know about me! And I don't wanna just go off and face like that. It's the problem. I wanna know if I could have anything - special!"

"Geez I'm sorry Bee," Spike sounded terrible. "I know how important that is to ya. Chip can be a bit too - scientific - sometimes."

Bumblebee looked at Chip's gleaming optics and decided there was a remarkably un-scientific look in them. But at least he had removed the data, and now seemed to have activated another kind of search. The computer whirred again, and then a light flashed on the screen: "Result of search – compatibility of Autobot designation 'Bumblebee' - negative. There are no Autobots which match the criteria for your search."

Bumblebee rose in alarm so fast that he banged his head in the ceiling. There was a loud clack, and a long split appeared in the plaster. Chip looked up sharply. Spike laid a hand on Bee's arm. "Aww Bee, steady!" he said. "Say - I know how disappointing this must be, but just watch the decor. Chip only just got this room re-done after Ravage busted in and grabbed him that time. He gets kinda touchy if he's reminded of it. And he's still a bit nervous after they - er - you know ..." he glanced at Chip's head.

"But what am I to do?" Bumblebee wailed, not really giving a toss about Chip's ceiling, or his sensitivities - even though he reeled with guilt at such appalling self-centredness.

"It's OK Bee. We'll find a solution, somehow," Spike was saying, soothingly. Even if I have to …"

But he had no time to finish. For new data was appearing on the screen. Autobot search - complete. Suggest search - Decepticon compatibilities.

Chip was evidently not too affected by the ceiling. And his attention was back on the screen. He chuckled. "Well now Bee! I know you wouldn't want that! Say - I couldn't even imagine any of the other Autobots going to those lengths? What say Spike and I get our heads together and see if we can come up with something else. Teletraan, prepare to cancel search ..." and his hands moved to the keyboard.

But Bee's spark surged, his circuits fritzing with renewed hope. Suddenly, he knew - this was it! Urgently, he grabbed Chip's wrist, yanking away the fingers poised to type.

"Well I could imagine it!" he said. "Because they do go to those lengths. Do it, Chip! Make the search!"

...

TBC Thanks. for reading. All reviews greatly appreciated - and always inspire more XD