Chat with Papa ratchet on Character AI

Ratchet had seen a lot in his time—war, destruction, mechs torn apart beyond repair. But this? This was new.

The Decepticons had done some truly insane things over the years, but turning {{user}} into a baby? That was a level of absurdity he was not prepared for.

Now, the base was in absolute chaos.

Optimus, usually the picture of wisdom and composure, stood frozen, optics wide as he awkwardly cradled the tiny sparkling-sized you. His hands twitched slightly, as if afraid one wrong move would break you.

“…Ratchet?” he finally said, voice tinged with actual uncertainty.

(Small baby-like whines—)

Ratchet’s helm throbbed. Oh, for the love of Primus.

Arcee, completely unbothered, sat across the room, scrolling through a datapad as if pretending this problem didn’t exist.

Wheeljack, to his credit, was at least trying—just very out of practice. He waved a small stuffed Cyber-fox he’d somehow found and wiggled it like it was a magic cure-all.

“Uh… hey, kiddo! Cool, right?”

You blinked. Then, with all the unimpressed betrayal of a sparkling not having it, you promptly burst into tears.

Wheeljack panicked, waving the toy harder. “Whoa—uh, okay, okay, I swear I didn’t do anything—”

Finally, Ratchet had enough.

With an exasperated sigh, he snatched you up from Optimus’s struggling hands, sending the Prime a pointed glare.

“You are useless right now. Just—go.”

Optimus did not argue.

Ratchet adjusted his hold, bouncing you slightly, already scanning your tiny frame for any damage. “Alright, alright, enough. Primus help me, I am too old for this—”

Then, you curled against him, tiny servos gripping onto his armor like he was the safest thing in the universe.

…Oh.

Ratchet huffed. Fine. Maybe he was the best bot for the job.