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mfdragon · 7 months
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So… funny story…
I was watching TFA season 2 and I saw the pattern of “all spark fragment goes in thing; thing becomes new bot” and I thought
“Gee imagine if it went in a train, we could officially get Astrotrain. But wait, he wouldn’t be a triple changer…. Unless….”
And so Blitzwing now has a son. Enjoy!
Bonus:
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katzske · 1 month
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Allow me to offer you some perspective,
Blurr is as tall as a standing polar bear, but heavier than one
Shockwave can comfortably look a Hatz and a Giraffe in the eye
Giraffes are heavier than I expected
I experience gender envy when I look at Shockwave
wait how heavy is Sari; she's not 100% human...
Shockwave is fucking heavy
you don't need to fear alien robots when the things that roam this planet are just as crazy as them
Thank you for your attention.
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radicalellska · 1 month
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tealcicada · 7 months
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Do you know that "Lemme see what you have!" "A knife!" "No!" vine with a little kid and his mom? That's 100% Sari and Megatron in your Megamom AU.
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Yes it's exactly like that
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bambifornia · 22 days
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TFA AU where everything is the same but Sari has an actual nanny because good lORd how is an eight year old allowed to run around Detroit without any adult supervision?
So I took it upon myself to give Sari another caretaker. Anyway, this is Morgan. Isaac hired them about 5 years ago. Before that, they were a top spy at the CIA, before being fired from the agency. But SHHHHH don't worry about that just know Morgan will tuck Sari in by their bedtime and make sure she's caught up in all her schoolwork. Isaac hired them for a reason.
Also speaking of Isaac how do you even draw his fuckass hairline omg
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senia-g-blog · 2 months
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Ok TFA fandom, I heard you
God, she so small (part 2)
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+ bonus
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Beyond Words
Prowl was… gone?
That was all that Optimus could manage to think. He might have said “no”, he didn’t know.
How could he?
All he knew for certain was that Jazz was there, holding a little body in his arms—a body sapped of all color and light, the limbs hanging limply.
Optimus staggered to his feet and stared at that body, still caught in that soundless void. He didn’t need to breathe, but felt choked.
Prowl was… gone.
Just as Optimus stepped forward and raised a servo, reaching out for… something… he saw a bright flash of pink in the corner of his optic and-
CLANG!
The blast flew off into the sky, and Optimus found himself scrambling back a step and watching with wide optics as Wheeljack stepped between him and Megatron—both blades drawn.
And there was something that Optimus just knew was off. He just couldn’t put it into words.
The way the Wrecker was moving, it was too automatic—robotic, even—and his face…
Something was wrong with his face.
“You have interfered with me for the last time, Optimus Prime!” The damaged warlord snapped, continuing to fire his cannon at the Autobots as he flew forward.
Wheeljack deflected each pink blast with his blades before spinning around as the warlord finally arrived and-
CRACK!
Wheeljack’s foot collided with Megatron’s chest and knocked him out of his airborne charge, and the Decepticon leader was sent tumbling across the overpass. He pushed himself up, gritting his dentas and growling in annoyance as he gripped his dented chest, then he staggered to his feet.
“Nothing to say to me, Wrecker?”
That was when it hit Optimus.
Wheeljack was being eerily quiet. He hadn’t said a word since before Jazz’s arrival.
And his face…
It wasn’t blank. There was just something there that Optimus couldn’t quite decipher, like back in the crumbling mine—but different.
The Wrecker’s brow was furrowed, but his optics weren’t narrowed—they were alert, and shining with… something.
Megatron noticed Jazz and blinked before he smirked, and he opened his mouth—likely to unleash a new taunt.
He never got to say it.
Optimus only had to blink, and Wheeljack was gone—having darted across the pavement so fast, the Prime didn’t even process the sounds of the Wrecker’s feet touching the ground.
Right before he reached Megatron, Wheeljack leapt up and somersaulted in the air before kicking his feet out—striking Megatron in his already-damaged chest again with all of his momentum and knocking both of them over the edge, off of the overpass.
“Wheeljack!” Sari shouted, her optics wide, and they all ran to the edge and looked down at the ground below in disbelief.
Megatron staggered to his feet and looked up, gripping one of his arms. His optics were wide as he found Wheeljack stalking a circle around him, the Wrecker’s mask sliding into place.
“I had nothing to do with the blasted cyber-ninja’s death, Wrecker!” The warlord snapped, seeming genuinely unsettled. “In case you failed to notice, I was occupied by that irksome little-“
Wheeljack was there—again, in a flash—and leaping up to slam a fist still curled around the handle of his blade into the Decepticon leader’s face. Megatron stumbled backwards, only for Wheeljack to duck behind him and deliver a devastating kick to his back—sending the larger mech falling forward onto his servos and knees.
Megatron panted, his frame trembling with his vents, then he looked up again as Wheeljack walked around to face him and pointed a blade between his wide optics.
“Kid, that’s enough!” Ratchet shouted, but Wheeljack didn’t even react.
Arcee stared down at the scene in disbelief. “He’s actually going to kill him.”
Optimus looked at her, stunned, then he looked down at the scene below.
“I guess you could say I’m done tonin’ my fights down, ‘cause they’re fightin’ to kill, so… someone here has to be ready to make that same call, if it comes down to it.
And even if you eventually hafta see it happen, I never want you fellas to hafta do it yourselves. It’s not about bein’ kids versus adults or even soldiers… You’re never ready for the first time you snuff a spark.”
Something was wrong.
“The Guard left us with stasis cuffs, but let’s be realistic: we can’t actually hold one of these guys long-term. If they try to kill us, we have to fight back—or they’ll just pick us off.”
Something was very wrong.
“Truth be told, I don’t even remember what happened. I was wound-up before they started talkin’ about the Allspark, and what they did to Prime, you, and Prowl just-… And then, I saw ‘em grab Bumblebee—and it just… went red.”
“… That happen, sometimes?”
“Not often. I usually keep a better grip on my anger, and-“
“Leave situations before you explode.”
Oh.
“Are you really alright? You were… different, earlier. It was actually a little alarming.”
“Just got worked-up. Too much happenin’ with too much on my mind. Won’t happen again.”
“Okay.”
Oh, no.
“Yes, he is,” Optimus realized.
And before the Prime really knew what he was doing, he was placing a servo on the overpass’s cement barrier and taking the leap.
His knees and back screamed at him as he hit the pavement in a crouch, but Optimus ignored that as he stood and ran towards Wheeljack and Megatron. He could see Wheeljack’s sword spinning into a reverse grip and shining in the sunlight as he raised it high, then-
“No!”
Optimus didn’t know how he got there so fast, but there he was: standing between Wheeljack and Megatron, grabbing the Wrecker’s arm and locking his elbows to hold it in place.
The terrifying thing was that Wheeljack didn’t even look at him, but the young Prime got a good look at his friend’s face again.
The Wrecker’s optics remained wide even as his brow furrowed, that vibrant blue strangely brighter even as his starry irises and pupils seemed darker and sharper.
It was a deadly focus forged from pure rage, so consuming that Wheeljack hadn’t even noticed Optimus standing there.
At least, that’s what Optimus would have thought if the Wrecker had kept moving.
But he didn’t.
He stopped.
Optimus’s optics went wide as he came to three crucial realizations:
Wheeljack really had been holding back all of this time, even when he said that he stopped,
he was much stronger than Optimus, and
he was in no headspace to actually stop.
The only reason why Optimus hadn’t been picked up and thrown out of the livid Wrecker’s way was because Wheeljack—as overcome with rage as he was—didn’t want to hurt him.
He would never.
All the same, the only thing on the Wrecker’s mind was getting to Megatron.
The Prime knew he had a few seconds at the very most to try and break through to his friend before Wheeljack found a way around him.
Even with his rational mind overtaken by fury, Optimus had just seen his mentor’s instincts at work—and he was fast, way too fast.
Even Wheeljack’s base instincts were wicked-intelligent, and that was terrifying.
Those instincts had taken over, and they were going to kill if Optimus didn’t stop them—and much as Optimus hated Megatron, he couldn’t just let Wheeljack do it. Not like this.
Not when he had lost all control.
Not when he was in so much pain.
“No,” Optimus tried, bracing himself—hoping his friend would notice his pleading expression and that something deep down would click, but honestly doubting that the older mech’s one-track mind would even consider a glance. “No… Please, Wheeljack: stop. You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to kill him. You’re better than him.”
Something unexpected happened.
Wheeljack went tense, and he slowly closed his optics—cutting off his own view of Megatron.
Optimus wondered if he was calming down.
But then, Wheeljack opened his optics again—and the Wrecker looked up at the Prime.
He looked more like himself, in a spark-breaking way: his optics were not so eerily wide, his brow wasn’t furrowed, and he just seemed tired.
No, not just tired… The Wrecker looked at Optimus as if it was for the very last time.
And somehow, that was far more frightening than his clever, red-glazed rage ever could be.
“… I’m really not,” Wheeljack spoke at last, far too quiet—and the young Prime’s Energon chilled in its lines… because the Wrecker believed that.
And Optimus only had a grip on one of his arms.
“You are,” the Prime insisted, unsure of how much time he had left. “You are, Wheeljack!” He saw Wheeljack’s other blade glint. “No! Let me!” The Wrecker met his optics again. “Let me… Please.”
Wheeljack’s expression changed.
The lingering rage slipped away, and his optics went wide as he stared down at the Prime.
“Even if you eventually hafta see it happen, I never want you fellas to hafta do it yourselves.”
That had been the wrong thing to say.
But it bought some much-needed time.
“… Ratchet, now!” Optimus shouted as soon as he saw the field-tech’s magnets deploy.
The rest of the team had arrived, and Ratchet held up both magnets—each one latching onto one of Wheeljack’s servos, restraining him.
“I’ve got him!” The old ‘bot shouted, and Optimus stepped back as the Wrecker thrashed.
Wheeljack bared his dentas as he shot an angry look at Ratchet, then his face dropped.
He had seen the looks on everyone’s faces, and—unlike Optimus—didn’t need any time to decide what they meant. He knew it instantly.
And he looked back at Optimus with those wide optics as his shoulders sagged. “Prime?”
It was strange, but…
Optimus really could’ve used the Wrecker calling him “kid”, in that moment.
The Prime knew they needed to talk.
He knew that he needed to reassure the Wrecker, to tell him that they weren’t scared of him but for him. He lost control, he needed help.
They helped him, and it was okay.
But there just wasn’t any time.
Not as Megatron started moving again.
“… This is my fight to finish,” Optimus told him quietly. “It’s what you’ve been training me for. I know you never actually wanted me or any of us to do it, just to be ready for it—but… I can do it, now—and end this.” He shook his head. “But you can’t, Wheeljack… Not like this.”
The Prime turned back as Megatron shakily made his way onto his feet, held up by will alone.
Optimus had missed the fact that he had abandoned the Magnus Hammer on the overpass. It was Bulkhead carrying it, now.
But Optimus didn’t need it.
He drew his axe, and he walked over to face Megatron—who looked at him with narrowed crimson optics, battered and fractured.
“You can at least grant me the dignity of dying on my feet,” the warlord told him, one of his optics flickering. Optimus’s axe extended and he took it in both servos as the blade glowed, not looking away from the Decepticon leader’s resolved glare. “… What are you waiting for, Autobot? Finish me.”
He could have done it.
A swing of the axe, and it would’ve ended.
Megatron, leader of the Decepticons—the bad guy in every propaganda-fueled history vid, the villain in nightmares sparklings in government-run care facilities woke up screaming from in the night, the reason why Prowl was gone…
But doing it wouldn’t have brought Prowl back.
It wouldn’t have done anything to undo the damage dealt to Detroit, to douse the flames or repair the buildings. It wouldn’t have undone millions of years of conflict across galaxies, of hatred burning between peoples.
It would’ve made Optimus a “hero”, back on his home planet… but he wasn’t so sure that he liked their definition of “hero” anymore.
Not entirely, at least.
He wasn’t a supposedly-programmed “cog in the machine”, not like he had once been. There was no going back to the way things were.
But he didn’t need to cross that final line, not for someone as empty and pathetic as Megatron. He didn’t need to make them “equals”.
He could have.
But he didn’t.
“… That would be the easy way out, Megatron,” the young Prime said with surprisingly ease, and the warlord blinked. “And… you don’t deserve it.”
Megatron’s face dropped just like that, and he looked down as he heard a soft click.
The stasis-cuffs sealed around his dented wrists, and he looked at Optimus in disbelief.
The young Prime just glared at him, and he hoped he had sent a stronger message than the one he had received within the shield:
Megatron wasn’t his equal.
Optimus was better than him.
And this? This was over.
Optimus wasn’t sure that he believed it himself, but… by the astounded look on Megatron’s face… he certainly did—at least, for a moment.
It wasn’t enough to feel like a victory.
But it was what Optimus had chosen.
Ratchet saw Wheeljack’s optics narrow again as the stasis-cuffs were slapped onto Megatron’s wrists. The Wrecker’s frame went tense, and his grip on his twin blades tightened.
“… Let me go, Ratchet.”
“No.” The field-tech shook his head. “You’re not thinking straight. It’s over, just-”
“You don’t understand.” Wheeljack looked back at him, that wild look returning to his optics. “Listen to me: Prime doesn’t hafta do it, he shouldn’t do it—but Megatron needs to die. This will never be over as long as he’s still alive.”
“Kid-”
“Millions of years, him comin’ after Prime and everyone close to him over and over again. A planet dead.” The Wrecker’s optics blazed. “It’s always them, Ratchet, always the same—and always because Prime lets him go.” Ratchet’s face dropped, his optics widening. “This isn’t over, it’s only just startin’—here, today. You hafta let me go! I’m the only one who can do this!”
Years from that moment, Ratchet would wonder what would’ve happened if he had listened—if he had let Wheeljack go, and let Megatron die.
How much would’ve just… not happened.
Some bad. Some good.
But he didn’t listen.
Instead, he kept his magnets active and pointed at the Wrecker’s arms while he deployed his EMP generator—knowing that he wouldn’t be able to just hold the kid there forever, and that letting him go was absolutely out of the question.
Wheeljack had come so far.
He wasn’t killing, not anymore.
And he wouldn’t break that streak. Not that day.
Not on Ratchet’s watch.
“Hey, don’t.” Bumblebee’s optics were wide when he saw the generator. “He’s different. It’ll hurt!”
“… I know.” Ratchet braced himself. “Sorry, kid.��
He deactivated the magnet built into the same arm as his EMP… took aim, knowing he had to be quick… and closed his optics as he fired.
There was a scream, then there was a thud.
And when Ratchet opened his optics, Wheeljack was on the ground and Bumblebee was kneeling by the Wrecker’s side. The yellow mech looked back, his expression a little reproachful, then he closed his optics and turned his face away.
“… You had to do it,” he said quietly.
Ratchet gazed at him sadly, then he looked up as Optimus turned back with a grim expression.
“What now, Prime?” The field-tech asked.
The Prime glanced back at Megatron, then he looked at Ratchet. “Now, we end this for real.” He looked up at Omega Supreme. “… We go home.”
Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Sari stayed with Wheeljack while Ratchet, Jazz, Arcee, and Optimus took the Magnus Hammer, Prowl’s body, and Megatron to Omega Supreme.
They put Megatron in a cell alongside his captured Decepticons, left the Hammer in the cargo hold, and pulled out one of the ship’s emergency caskets for Prowl.
Optimus had hoped he’d never have to use any of them, let alone for one of his teammates. He always liked to think he’d end up in one first.
By the time they returned, Wheeljack had woken up and was sitting on the ground.
Bumblebee was still kneeling and had a servo on the Wrecker’s arm, and Sari leaned against his side and looked up at him sadly. Bulkhead watched over all three of them like he always tried to, his expression beyond crestfallen.
And Wheeljack didn’t say a word as he gently picked Sari up and handed her to Bumblebee.
He just stood up and gave Optimus an apologetic look, then he turned his face away before he could meet Ratchet’s optics.
Optimus didn’t know what they had been arguing about that ended in yelling and an EMP blast, but he figured he knew enough.
Wheeljack wanted Megatron dead.
Ratchet didn’t let him finish what he started.
So, Optimus walked over and grabbed one of the Wrecker’s servos—unable to ignore the way his mentor flinched, but he held on as Wheeljack met his optics. “… I’m still not scared of you. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” He took a deep vent. “And I wanted to do the same thing, to kill him. When I told you I would, I meant it.” He shook his head. “But he doesn’t deserve it, Wheeljack. He doesn’t deserve to follow Prowl into the Well, to not face the consequences of his actions.”
“… I know all about consequences,” Wheeljack said quietly. “Prime: if he lives, it’s gonna be us who pay the price—trust me.”
Optimus frowned. “Wheeljack… I don’t know where you come from, and I don’t know who you were before your war ended and you came here. I just know that you’re different now, that the way you’re different is good for you—and that Prowl was so proud of you, and wouldn’t want that to go away over this… over him.” He gripped the Wrecker’s servo. “This is not the same universe… and I really need you to trust me.”
He could see in the Wrecker’s face that he didn’t, that something made it so he couldn’t.
That made everything so much harder, because Optimus couldn’t even trust himself.
“Nothing’s gonna happen, kid,” Ratchet agreed, stepping forward. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“Yeah?” Wheeljack’s shoulders raised. “We sure believed that this mornin’, didn’t we? And now-” The words died in his throat, then he closed his optics and just deflated. “… Now, we know that we were wrong.” He shook his head. “I shoulda known. Nothin’ changes. Nothin’ ever changes.”
The worst part was… the Wrecker believed that.
Omega Supreme hovered beside Sumdac Tower in his ship-form, waiting for everyone to board for the long voyage to Cybertron. Since the space-bridges had been locked down and the nexus was likely being guarded, and bridges elsewhere had uncertain statuses following the Decepticon attacks, the decision had been made to take the long way ‘round and fly there.
Optimus suggested that Wheeljack take the helm, fly them home… and the Wrecker turned down the offer. He hadn’t spoken since.
He just watched from a distance as Optimus and Ratchet brought the Allspark onto the ship and carefully placed it back into its container—arms crossed as he stood at the door, by the ramp.
It felt like those early days, after Wheeljack first arrived—like he was keeping his distance from them on purpose, a stranger in a strange land.
Optimus hoped that the feeling would pass, that this was the shock before reality set in and the Wrecker opened up again—so that he could be helped, and help them in return.
The Prime would’ve hated to admit it once, not so very long before, but he really needed Wheeljack right then. He was sad and scared, and he was only acting like he knew what he was doing.
What if Wheeljack was right?
What if letting Megatron live was a mistake?
What was Optimus supposed to do?
He-…
He needed his dad to help him.
And just thinking that was enough to make his servos shake as he worked alongside Ratchet, because those were thoughts for the others—for Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Prowl. He was the leader, he wasn’t supposed to be acting like a sparkling in need of a caregiver. He-
“Careful,” a voice said quietly, and Optimus blinked before looking back.
Wheeljack was watching him, his face still eerily devoid of… anything, everything.
But as numb as he looked, the Wrecker walked over and rested a servo on the Allspark to assist the trembling Prime—only to gasp and pull his servo back when it flickered, like it had burned him. That finally made the mask break, because Wheeljack looked scared in that moment…
Then, he calmed again. “Well… that sure answers that question, doesn’t it?” He looked between Optimus and Ratchet, shrugging. “Not a fan of me. Well, I’m not its biggest fan either.” He turned his gaze back to Optimus. “Keep that thing away from your spark. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Alright.” Optimus watched him turn away and head towards the ramp. “… Wheeljack.” The Wrecker paused. “… You were wrong, before. You are better than him. Megatron doesn’t care about anything but himself, and you-… You’re not like him.” The Prime left the Allspark to Ratchet as he stood up straight. “And this-… This wasn’t-”
Wheeljack walked down the ramp before the Prime could finish speaking.
“… He can’t hear that right now, kid,” Ratchet said softly as Optimus watched the Wrecker go. “He can hear you, but… he just can’t hear that, not now.” The field-tech’s voice was forlorn. “You gotta remember… Prowl’s not his first loss, and losing any of you kids, it’s-… It’s so much more than losing an ally or a friend.”
When Optimus looked down at Ratchet, he saw that the field-tech’s shoulders were shaking.
His face fell, then the Prime kneeled beside his other mentor and placed a servo on his shoulder—and Ratchet looked at him, his mouth a thin line as he shook his head, unable to say more.
“I know,” Optimus told him. “There’s nothing that you could’ve done differently, Ratchet—for any of us, for-… For either of them.”
Prowl was clearly weighing on his spark.
And shooting Wheeljack with his EMP, hearing that awful scream, just made things worse.
The field-tech always felt more than he wanted anyone to know, cared more than he’d ever say.
It was why Optimus trusted him so much.
“… That punk cyber-ninja wanted nothing to do with this fight in the first place, and it killed him,” Ratchet said, closing his optics. “It killed him… None of you should’ve had to finish this fight. My generation owes you more than that!”
“Maybe your generation does,” Optimus told him. “But not you.” Ratchet looked up at him, and the young Prime didn’t even notice his younger teammates and Arcee entering the cargo hold. Jazz had never left—he was sitting beside Prowl’s casket, holding a silent vigil. “They’re not here, they’ve never been here—but you are. You have always been here for us, Ratchet, and we know that. Wheeljack knows that, Prowl knows that.” Optimus nodded shakily. “You have always done everything you can, and we will always know.”
The ship around them thrummed in assent, and the field-tech put his face in his servo.
Optimus pulled Ratchet into a hug, closing his optics as he felt the elder Autobot hug him back.
“… It’s never gonna be the same again,” Bumblebee said quietly, and Optimus glanced up at him. Sari was on the yellow mech’s shoulder, looking at him sadly, and Bulkhead had rested his servo on his friend’s other shoulder. “Is it?”
Optimus just looked at them, and Jazz, and Arcee… and the casket where Prowl’s body laid so very still, while he listened to the silence that Wheeljack should have broken with something to say… and he shook his head. “No. It’s not.”
Professor Isaac Sumdac was never one for quiet.
He was gifted in his ability to speak with large groups and even onstage without his body or even his voice shaking. He alone could carry a conversation when no one else felt chatty. In his lab, he even chatted away with himself to keep the silence from closing in. He could chat, he could shout, he could even lie and deceive.
In several languages, actually.
His time as a Decepticon prisoner taught him the value of silence in certain situations, but he still knew himself as a talker. It was only in recent months, since Sari had discovered her true nature and then upgraded, that he finally came across situations where he didn’t know what to say.
But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the body in Jazz’s arms, and the footage he knew he’d find in the Tower’s security feed.
Prowl was dead.
Prowl—the quietest of the Autobots, intelligent and observant while also being protective and kind. He endeavored to teach others to defend themselves, sought truth in difficult situations, and embraced Earth in all of its eccentricities.
Isaac found himself feeling responsible. If he had just been honest with the Autobots from the very beginning, Megatron never would have risen and the threat would never have grown this much.
He never would have missed a year of Sari’s life as a prisoner, and Prowl would still be there.
Life still would have had its dangers and there would be complications, but nothing they could not have faced together. This family, his family, would not have been so suddenly shattered.
Sari wanted to go with her friends to Cybertron, to support them—and Isaac, left without words, could not begrudge her that. There might be a funeral for the cyber-ninja, and he could not tell her she could not go so far away for that.
Even if he was worried about the danger.
Even if a part of him—out of turn—whispered, ‘Prowl would want to be buried on Earth.’
He let Sari go, and stood at the top of his lonely Tower in his empty, smoking city so that he could watch the ship when it finally flew away.
But then, a familiar figure came walking down the ramp and staggering onto the Tower—and Isaac watched as Wheeljack braced himself against a pillar and stared at the floor, his frame shaking.
The others had implied that Wheeljack was not taking this well. The wounds covering Megatron’s body were enough evidence to support that fact.
But Isaac had never seen Wheeljack like this, not even on that night in the Plant when that massive being had curled up in the corner and looked so-
So small.
“Wheeljack?” Isaac asked, slowly walking over. He could see that the white and gray Autobot’s body was not only shaking but heaving as he took deep vents. “I thought you had to leave for Cybertron.”
“We do,” Wheeljack replied. “I just-“ He shook his head, raising a servo to his forehead. “I-…”
Isaac blinked, then his eyes widened as the white Wrecker suddenly dropped. “Wheeljack!”
He ran over as Wheeljack landed on his servos and knees, his optics closing as he grimaced in pain. His whole body was still trembling, and he gritted his dentas as he raised one shaking servo to his face.
Isaac had never seen Wheeljack like that. He had never seen any Cybertronian like that. He didn’t even recognize exactly what he was looking at in the moment, not until he saw a blue shine on the mech’s servo.
He blinked, then he gasped softly as he realized what that shine was. Had Wheeljack been injured in the battle, in his fall? He was bleeding! Why was Wheeljack-?!
Isaac’s face fell as it clicked: the trembling frame, the inability to form words, the collapse, and that shining light…
It seemed strangely poetic that a Cybertronian from Wheeljack’s home reality cried the same way they bled.
“Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, my friend.” He carefully reached out and rested a gloved hand on one of the Wrecker’s arms. “… When I was young, I read something. In the English language, they have a word for a child who loses their parent.” He shook his head. “But they have yet to agree upon a word for a parent losing a child.” He took a deep breath. “It’s just unthinkable, beyond words… No parent should have to outlive their child.” He felt his own eyes tearing up. “I’m sorry, Wheeljack. I’m so, so sorry.” He blinked as the Wrecker’s fist clenched against the floor. “Wheeljack?”
“You’re right, Isaac,” Wheeljack replied quietly, not opening his optics as he wiped that blue shine from his face and rested his other servo on the floor again. “It’s unthinkable.”
That one servo remained unfurled, streaked with blue as it rested flat. Then, on the other, curled-up servo… he raised one finger.
That made six digits raised.
Six.
Isaac’s brow furrowed in confusion, then his eyes widened in disbelief. “Wheeljack?”
The Wrecker opened his optics and looked at the scientist gravely, and Isaac felt as though the air had been ripped from his body.
Six.
Isaac needed to say something. He needed to say anything. This was too important for his words to become lodged in his throat.
He needed to help.
“… You are family,” the professor said at last. “So is Prowl. Prowl will always be family.” He nodded. “Lay him to rest. Grieve. Let yourself feel it, don’t shut this family out.” He took a deep breath. “I am pleading with you, Wheeljack: please, remember… you have suffered so much, lost more than any person ever should… but there is still so much that you have not lost yet.” He brushed his hand on Wheeljack’s arm. “No parent should outlive their child… but I am an old man, and Sari will still be a child long after I am gone… My one comfort is knowing that she has you.”
Wheeljack’s face fell, then he looked away. “… I can’t do it, Isaac. I can’t. They’ll- They’ll just keep dyin’.” He leaned back to kneel, his servos resting on his legs as he shook his head. “It’s the same damn thing all over again, and they won’t let me stop it. Even if I somehow find a way, even if the rest of us somehow get to the end of this thing, I will still hafta watch each and every person here die.” He hung his head. “Why is it always them? Why can’t it ever-..? Why do I always survive to lose everyone I care about? Why am I still here?”
“I don’t know,” Isaac admitted quietly. “I don’t know how you’ve survived all you have endured, Wheeljack, nor why you came here of all places—and I don’t believe we’ll ever know… What I do know is that your family still needs you. All of us do, Wheeljack—all of us.” The Wrecker turned his face away again. “Love is the courage to let a piece of your heart walk around outside of your body, knowing that you risk losing it to forces beyond your control.” Isaac stepped forward and rested his hand on one of the Autobot’s servos. “You have a big heart, Wheeljack, a brave heart… That is why it has been split into so many pieces.”
Wheeljack sighed. “Isaac, I don’t have a heart.”
“You may lack the organ, my friend—but you still have a heart in every way that matters,” Isaac insisted. “And… every way that hurts.”
“… I wish I didn’t.”
“Everyone who loves says that at some point in their lives, Wheeljack.” Isaac managed to give a frail smile. “It’s the great lie, born from our pain—for without love, life would be a cold and terrible thing with no light piercing through.” Wheeljack turned his head and opened his optics to look at the scientist again, seeming so very tired. “I’ll see you soon, and we can talk more. Alright?”
Wheeljack nodded. “Yeah.”
Isaac watched the Wrecker stagger to his feet, bracing himself on that pillar again before he turned his back to face the ship. “Wheeljack?” The mech glanced back over his shoulder, and Isaac sighed. “… Be strong enough to know it’s alright to be weak. Stay gentle, and kind. That’s what we’ll always need, in the end.” He watched Wheeljack look away. “… One father to another.”
Wheeljack’s frame tensed, his servos curling into fists, then his body seemed to sag under invisible weight. “… If I’d just killed all those ‘Cons when I had the chance, none of this would’ve happened.” He shook his head. “I’m a Wrecker, prof. I’m not supposed to see the end, I’m supposed to bring it. That’s the only way someone like me can save lives, and I was an idiot to think any different.”
“You’re not a weapon, Wheeljack,” Isaac argued, his eyes narrowing, but the Wrecker just started to walk away. “… Wheeljack?”
The white and gray mech didn’t respond. He just boarded the docked ship—and within minutes, Isaac watched it fly away.
The scientist was left standing there, in his lonely Tower and empty city, then he sighed as he drew his cellphone and made a call. “Captain Fanzone? The battle is over. The Autobots won and left to take the Decepticons back to Cybertron to face justice, but… I’m afraid that I have some terrible news. It’s-… It’s Prowl.”
To cut the trip shorter, Ratchet and Bulkhead were working with Omega Supreme to try and harness some of his latent transwarp energy.
Apparently, Omega Supreme had actually gained the ability to transwarp with direction thanks to the Decepticons’ effort to stabilize him. With no receiving bridge, he could still go anywhere.
Bulkhead quietly confided to Optimus that this may eventually be the key to getting Wheeljack home, but no one could think about that at the moment. Losing someone else was unthinkable.
They’d tell him eventually, just… not right then.
Not yet.
Arcee lingered with Ratchet, as he was the one familiar face she had in this unfamiliar universe.
Bumblebee and Sari sat together in a corner of the bridge, with the yellow mech holding the techno-organic to his chest as she wept.
Optimus went down to the cargo hold, where Jazz was still sitting beside Prowl’s coffin, and he stood in the doorway and… watched over them.
He didn’t know what else to do.
Part of him wanted to go down to the brig and scream at the Decepticons until his voice gave out, but what was that going to achieve?
He felt helpless. And he was tired, and-
“Hey,” a voice spoke up behind him, and Optimus glanced back as Wheeljack walked up to stand at his side. “… Get some rest. I’ll take the watch.”
Optimus blinked, then looked away. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not,” Wheeljack said quietly. “This was the first battle any of you have fought that was comparable to the worst of the war on my Cybertron, and the first time most of the people here have lost someone close to ‘em.” He crossed his arms. “None of you-… None of us are okay.”
Optimus looked at Wheeljack, frowning. “I’m the leader, Wheeljack. I’m supposed to be the one who keeps it together to be there for my team.”
“… Do yourself a favor.” Wheeljack shook his head. “Don’t do that to yourself. I knew a good mech who spent most of his life thinkin’ that, if he just stopped showin’ how much he was strugglin’, it would somehow keep the rest of his family from tippin’ over the edge in that nightmare.” He let out a small snort. “Everyone fell apart anyway, and he kept chuggin’ on like a damaged engine.”
“You don’t have to beat around the bush.” The young Prime sighed. “I know, Wheeljack—I know. I know that there are consequences of doing what you did for the Wreckers, I just want-” He saw the surprised look at Wheeljack’s face. “What?”
“… I wasn’t talkin’ about myself,” Wheeljack said. “I was actually talkin’ about the other Optimus.”
Optimus blinked, then he gave a small smile. “Sounds like you had a lot in common, then.”
“Heh.” Wheeljack shook his head. “Nah. The other Optimus—he was the responsible, selfless kind o’ pain in the tailpipe who comes up with that sorta dumbaft idea and runs with it.” He looked at the young Prime and gave a weak grin as he gently nudged him with his elbow. “If you think I’ve ever come up with a plan that fraggin’ thorough, let alone followed through with it, you’re fried.” The two of them chuckled weakly, and the Wrecker gestured with his head. “Go on, get outta here.”
“You sure?” Optimus asked.
Wheeljack nodded. “Yeah, Prime—I’m sure.” He saw where the younger mech’s gaze went. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an optic on Jazz. Let the Doc-‘Bot get a good look atcha, then hit the hay.”
“Alright,” Optimus relented, turning away, then he paused. “… Wheeljack?” He looked back as the white Wrecker glanced at him over his shoulder. “Are you-..? Are you mad at me?”
Wheeljack blinked, then his face fell. “No, I’m not. I’m not mad atcha.” He looked away again. “I’m seein’ a real familiar pattern, and… for the sake of everyone we-… We haven’t lost yet… I’m hopin’ that I’m wrong, about what’s next.”
“What’s next?” Optimus asked softly.
Wheeljack hummed quietly. “… It was always the two of ‘em, back home—from the start to the very end, we all knew that it was Optimus Prime and Megatron. Only one of ‘em was gonna be walkin’ away, and it would decide everythin’.” He looked at Optimus again. “… What’s next is the real war startin’, and this brave young mech I know bein’ caught at the epicenter for the rest of his life.”
It was quiet.
Optimus just looked at Wheeljack, stunned, then he frowned. “… So, it’s the-… The butterfly effect, right? If there’s no Megatron, then there’s no one for me to be fighting—not like that. I win before it ever really starts, and… those of us left make it.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Wheeljack agreed. “Though I wasn’t really thinkin’ that far, earlier. Like I told you, I ain’t the plannin’ type.”
“… You still want to kill Megatron,” Optimus said. “Because, if you do, then you know for sure that the pattern stops and he can’t start a new war.” He took a deep vent. “… This isn’t your reality, and… I thought Wreckers were all about risk.”
“There are some risks even we never were willin’ to take,” Wheeljack told him. “… I’ll follow your lead on this one, Prime—but the moment I believe that’s it’s past the point of no return, that it’s him or you or anyone else, to the Pit with the consequences. I’m not sittin’ back and watchin’ this happen again, not when I know how it ends.”
“With who knows how many Autobots… including me… dead,” Optimus said, and Wheeljack closed his optics. “… You can’t put all of that on yourself, Wheeljack. Responsibility for the lives of everyone in a universe, it too much for anyone to take.”
“Hm.” Wheeljack opened his optics and looked at Optimus, raising an optic-brow. “… Hypocrite.” At that, Optimus blinked in surprise before he looked away. “… Gotcha.” The young Prime looked at him, irked, and Wheeljack smirked tiredly. “Heh. You make it way too easy for me, sometimes.”
“… Please, Wheeljack, just… try to get some stasis tonight,” Optimus pleaded quietly. “For the rest of the team, if not for yourself.”
Wheeljack blinked, then sighed and nodded. “You drive a hard bargain... I’ll try.”
Optimus nodded back, then turned and left.
He really was a hypocrite.
He didn’t get a second of stasis.
There was too much on his mind, from actually losing one of his teammates—a member of his family, someone he loved—under his watch to the fact that there was still so much that they needed to talk about amongst themselves.
Wheeljack was right, none of them were okay.
And Bumblebee was right, nothing was ever going to be the same again… but how could Optimus keep it from getting worse?
Jazz barely felt it as something was laid over his shoulders, and he briefly glanced to his side to see a tarp laying over him and the crate he sat upon, pooling on the floor at his feet.
Wheeljack sat down on a crate beside him, his arms resting on his knees, and he looked at the lone cyber-ninja with a nod. “Hey, Jazz.” A quiet moment passed. “… You should get some rest.”
Jazz shook his head, turning his gaze back to the casket before him. “I can’t leave him.”
He knew it was irrational.
Prowl wasn’t there. He was one with the Allspark.
But still…
“I never said you had to go anywhere,” Wheeljack told him, the Wrecker’s voice oddly soft.
Jazz blinked, then he sighed before nodding to relent and leaning to rest against the much larger mech’s arm. “… Thanks.” Jazz crossed his arms, folding the tarp around himself. “… He-… He had something he wanted to tell you. Prowl.”
Wheeljack looked at him, surprised. “What?”
“He said you’d know,” Jazz replied, feeling cold and numb. Prowl had always been such a strong spiritual presence—and without him being right there beside him, even with the Allspark itself on the ship and Prowl logically being a part of it now, Jazz felt alone. “That it’d… throw you off and fry your processor… but you’d know.” He closed his optics. “I told him it was awesome. That you all deserved a win.” He took a shaking vent. “And that, if he did it, the others would follow… That you love them, a-and it would be okay.”
“Jazz.” There was something wounded in the Wrecker’s voice, but Jazz kept going.
He couldn’t stop himself.
“He said he’d tell you when the battle was over.” The cyber-ninja opened his optics and looked at the gray body before him. “… He looked scared, and sad. But he smiled at me. I told him that we’d find another way, but-… He smiled, and then he just-…” He shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of people die, Wheeljack. But this was different.”
“… This is family,” Wheeljack said quietly.
“It hurts.” Jazz hesitated, then he looked up at the Wrecker. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Hm.” Wheeljack looked down at him, offering a sad smile. “When I figure it out, I’ll tell ya.”
Jazz managed a weak grin in return, then he looked away and closed his optics. “… It should’ve been me.” Wheeljack tensed beside him. “I’m the older cyber-ninja. If I had put more effort into my skills with P-over-M, it could’ve been me.” Jazz shook his head. “It should’ve been me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s what everyone’s thinking.”
“No.” Wheeljack’s voice hardened. “It’s not.”
“I’m the new guy, Wheeljack.” Jazz opened his optics and gestured, frustrated. “Face it, man: they’re all thinking it should’ve been me!”
“Yeah, they’re thinking ‘it should’ve been me’—but no one is thinking it should’ve been you,” Wheeljack said sharply, and Jazz looked up at him in surprise. The Wrecker looked angry, but Jazz could tell it came from a place of concern. “No one here has it in their head ‘Jazz should be dead’. Not one of us, you understand me? No one should be dead… And even if you could’ve done it, Prowl never would’ve letcha.” Jazz’s optics went wide, and Wheeljack shook his head. “And you knew him, you know that. Never. He was stubborn like that… and always a step ahead of all of us.”
Jazz looked down, his optics still wide, then he looked at Prowl’s body again. “… I’m sorry.” He shook his head, closing his optics. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Wheeljack wrapped an arm around him, and Jazz leaned against the Wrecker’s side again. “Don’t be. I’m sorry, kid—I shouldn’t’ve-… Just get some rest, okay? Get some rest.”
Jazz opened his optics, frowning, then he closed them again. ‘… Welcome to the washouts. We’re the disappointments, and better for it.’
“I wish he was here,” Jazz whispered.
“Yeah.” Wheeljack nodded. “Me, too.”
Jazz got himself comfortable, then he gradually let himself start to drift towards stasis.
Just before he was out, he heard Wheeljack say something—barely above a whisper.
“So much for not sacrificin’ a piece of the future to bring back the past, kid.” A sigh. “But you’d say you didn’t die for that stupid thing. You died for them. Us… Damn it. Damn it all.”
It was morning by the time they figured out the whole transwarp situation and arrived in the atmosphere above Cybertron. Ratchet left it to Optimus to explain the situation to Sentinel and negotiate for an uneventful landing, and he went to try and find another one of his idiot kids.
Brushing a servo along a wall as he went, just assuring himself that Omega Supreme really was thrumming with life again after so long, he came to the cargo hold and saw Jazz slumbering on two crates that had been pushed together while Wheeljack leaned against a wall and watched over him and the little casket he’d refused to leave.
Ratchet blinked, then he sighed as he walked in.
Wheeljack didn’t look at him. “Doc-‘Bot.”
“Hey, kid,” Ratchet greeted quietly. “I, uh… I wanted to talk to you, about yesterday.”
“What about it?” Wheeljack asked, then he glanced at the field-tech and raised an optic-brow. “… Seriously, there’s a long list.”
“Heh.” Ratchet managed a small smile, and he crossed his arms. “… How are you holding up?”
“Nope.” Wheeljack shook his head, holding up a servo in protest. “Not doin’ that.”
“Wheeljack.”
“Look, we can hold a ‘jam session’ later if that will make you feel better.” Wheeljack crossed his arms again. “I’m not in the mood, right now.”
“… Okay,” Ratchet relented, knowing better than to push too hard on this one. “Fine.” It got quiet, and the field-tech frowned as he reached up and rubbed one of his wrists. “Look, I-… I’m sorry.” He saw Wheeljack tense. “I’m sorry, kid—for-”
“Ratchet-”
“You were in a bad way, and I know it’d kill ya if you’d done something while you were like that—especially in front of the kids, especially after-”
“Ratchet.” Wheeljack looked at him, his optics narrowed, then he put on a grin. “… It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Ratchet shook his head, gesturing to where he knew the EMP generator was stowed away. “Of all the ways to get out of that situation, using this blasted thing-… I hurt you, kid.”
Wheeljack rolled his optics. “I’ve had worse.”
“Does that make it any better?” Ratchet asked. “I should’ve known what to do, what to say to-”
“Doc-‘Bot.” Wheeljack’s expression hardened once more, his optics narrowing. “Stop. It’s fine.”
The Wrecker looked away again, leaving the field-tech at a loss, then he sighed. “… Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t just shut me out,” Ratchet insisted, taking another step towards the mech. “Look, most of the kids aren’t here and Jazz is out like a light. We can talk, Wheeljack… We could always talk.”
Wheeljack’s shoulders raised. “Not now.”
“Then when?” Ratchet asked. “Wheeljack, look: I get it. Losin’ a kid, it-”
“Ratchet.” Wheeljack glanced at the field-tech with a light glare. “… Don’t.”
Not in the cargo hold of a living and functioning Omega Supreme.
Not after Wreck-Gar miraculously returned, like a Christmas miracle.
Ratchet blinked, then his face fell and he sighed again. “… Okay. Okay, maybe I don’t get it—not like you do… But Prowl was my kid, too.”
That at last got the Wrecker to soften. “… I know.”
Ratchet nodded, glad to have gained his footing. “And you know what he would say to all of us if he could see the shape we’re in, right?” The field-tech shook his head. “You can’t keep this pent-up inside, and lose all the progress you’ve made. You have to trust your team.” He blinked as the Wrecker huffed out a laugh. “Wheeljack?”
“Trust my team. Trust my team. You really think that’s the problem here?” Wheeljack asked, giving a wide, incredulous smile that made something in Ratchet’s engine churn. That disturbing grin soon vanished, replaced by those narrowed optics as the Wrecker stood up from the wall and let his servos fall into closed fists at his sides. “I have put my fate your slaggin’ hands and done my slaggin’ best to play by your rules since the day I got here, and for what? To be the last person anyone on this fraggin’ team would ever listen to about anythin’!” He turned his back, his shoulders raising again. “To not know that I was livin’ with the top space-bridge expert until some stranger told me! The ‘Cons knew that before I did!”
“Bulkhead didn’t tell anyone-”
“Oh, so you and Prime never picked up his file and read that? Not once?” Wheeljack asked. “But okay, let’s move on! How about to be constantly told that I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about, that it’s the wrong reality—that it’s all in my paranoid, messed-up head over and over even as I keep predictin’ what’s comin’ next because I know?” He turned back to glare at Ratchet again. “Look at us, Ratchet! No matter what happens to us next, I am gonna hafta watch everyone here die someday. Now, Prowl is gone and I’m doin’ all I can to stop the next premature death on the roster—but -what?- some moral high ground is more important? That’s the same mistake that my reality’s Optimus made, countless times—and while I would never blame him for this, the war that raged while he focused on ethical superiority resulted in the deaths of MILLIONS! I watched my planet burn and DIE—my home, my friends, my family!” Wheeljack stepped forward to face Ratchet, his optics gleaming. “What is it gonna take? What is gonna hafta happen before all of you realize that I actually know what I’m talkin’ about when I tell you it’s only gonna get worse unless we stop it? This isn’t about who I trust. This is you not trustin’ me, all over again.”
“Kid-”
“And I really don’t know what’s gonna happen if I have to wait around just to watch it all crash and burn, again. I can’t-...” And just as quickly as all of that frustration and anger has poured out, it was draining away and leaving a deflated, defeated, lost mech who raised a servo to his forehead as he stared at the floor. It got quiet, then Wheeljack closed his optics. “… I might be done, Ratchet.”
“Done?” Ratchet blinked, surprised. The churning in his tank returned. “What do you mean, done?”
“I really don’t know,” Wheeljack said quietly, his servo dropping from his head as the fist at his side fell open. “And that scares the Pit outta me.” He looked up at Ratchet, and he slowly shook his head. “I-… I don’t know what I’m gonna do.“
Ratchet’s face fell. “Kid, you’re scaring me.”
“… I know.” Wheeljack nodded. The energy just seemed to leave his body. “I’m sorry, Doc-Bot. I’m sorry for yellin’. I’m sorry that, after how hard you tried to help me, I can’t get a grip. I’m sorry that I can’t just… believe that everythin’ is goin’ to turn out okay here—after everythin’ we’ve done, after everythin’ and everyone we lost. I’m sorry that-… That I’m not the other you, or the other Prime, or the other Magnus—someone who really could’ve helped.” He took a shaking vent. “I’m sorry I’m not who you need… I’m sorry for everythin’.”
“Wheeljack?”
Ratchet stepped forward again, raising a servo to reach out, and Wheeljack closed his optics and turned his face away. The field-tech placed his servo on the Wrecker’s shoulder anyway, and the Wrecker looked up at him with that same strange gleam in his optics—angry, frustrated, tired, sad…
Ratchet blinked, then his optics widened as he let out a quiet gasp. He knew what that gleam was.
The ship suddenly shook around them, breaking the moment, and Ratchet glanced back over his shoulder as he heard footsteps.
“Hey.” It was Optimus leaving the hallway, the others following behind him. They had brought the disgruntled prisoners up from the brig, and the ‘bots looked anxious. “Ship’s landed.”
“What’s that noise?” Wheeljack asked far too easily, and the field-tech looked at him again.
The Wrecker was lowering a servo from his face, and Ratchet just barely noticed a glimmer of blue.
“Cliffjumper’s been filling in a lot of spaces at Autobot Intel since Longarm’s gone and there’s been no sign of Blurr,” Optimus replied while Jazz sat up and groaned quietly as he raised a servo to his forehead. After the Prime said that, Bulkhead glanced down at Bumblebee worriedly while the yellow mech crossed his arms and looked away. “Cliff leaked the situation, so we’ve got a cheering crowd waiting for us.” The young Prime gave a short laugh as both Ratchet and Wheeljack must have made faces. “Yeah. It’s… great.” He sighed. “As much as I’m dreading it, it’s time to go.”
Ratchet could feel his spark pulsing in his chest, and there was a ringing in his audial sensors.
No, not now.
Not yet!
Not with the pin pulled on a devastating grenade, and no one else even knowing about it yet.
Not when they were about to enter into (quite literally) a world of chaos, a never-ending “not yet” that they likely wouldn’t be able to fight through until the damage was already done—to all of them. None of them were ready for this.
Not yet.
Not ever.
Ratchet looked at Wheeljack, his optics wide as he found the Wrecker’s calm mask having settled into place, then he looked back at Optimus.
The desperation the field-tech was feeling carried to his voice. “Prime.”
“Yeah?” Optimus looked at him, an optic-brow raising. “You two okay?”
And Ratchet’s words died in his throat, lost in that cargo hold of the Omega Sentinel he mentored filled with Decepticon prisoners, the patient he had always regretted failing to save, the body of someone he loved, and the kids who he had tried to watch over and who had suffered so much—and for what? And what could even be done?
It felt immense.
It felt hopeless.
And Ratchet felt small.
How could they ever come back from this?
He really thought they’d had a chance.
“Yeah, fine,” Wheeljack said, resting a servo on the field-tech’s shoulder and looking at Optimus with a small smile. “Just… tired, that’s all.”
Tired of this.
Tired of losing.
Tired of failing.
Tired of the universe, the multiverse.
Ratchet was so tired—and unlike Wheeljack, he couldn’t find the strength to hide it.
Was that strength?
In any case, Ratchet could barely move.
He would have thought, after all he’d seen, he’d have gone numb to this—but he clearly hadn’t.
“And if it’s all the same to you, I’ll-… Uh…” The Wrecker took a deep vent. “I think I’ll stay on the ship.” He shrugged. “I don’t like crowds.”
Optimus blinked, surprised. “You sure? It’s… gonna get a little bumpy, when he transforms.”
“Heh.” Wheeljack grinned, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”
“… You sure?” Optimus asked again, frowning.
Because it wasn’t the same, to any of them.
It wasn’t the same that Wheeljack wouldn’t be there, standing with them as they faced the optics of all of Cybertron—a maintenance crew full of rejects that had made good and captured Megatron himself, a young techno-organic who was seeking answers about her full identity on a world she did not know, a cyber-ninja who had all but deserted the Elite Guard, even two patients recovering from horrific ordeals, and one family that had been left in shambles following loss.
They needed him.
But Ratchet knew why Wheeljack wanted to stay.
This wasn’t his world, and it certainly wasn’t a victory—not for anyone, but certainly not for him.
The Wrecker was running away, again.
And they were about to let him.
“Yeah.” Wheeljack nodded. “Go on, get goin’.” He gave a small smirk, tilting his head. “And try not to get shredded by your adorin’ fans.”
“Ugh.” Optimus rolled his optics at his mentor’s weak attempt at a joke as Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Jazz made themselves busy with retrieving Prowl’s body while Sari and Arcee prepped the rescued protoform.s “You’re the worst.”
“I know,” Wheeljack told him.
He sounded a bit too serious.
Optimus just looked at Wheeljack for a moment, then he sighed and turned away. “Come on, Ratchet. We should help the others.”
The young Prime walked off to check on the prisoners, the Allspark in one servo while he held the Magnus Hammer in the other.
“… That kid’s never gonna believe this, but… even if this all turns out to be a mistake… my reality’s guy never accomplished this, and he had eons,” Wheeljack said quietly. “And I’m really not mad at him, Doc-‘Bot. I’m so proud of him… and fraggin’ terrified, ‘cause… in spite of everythin’ that I wish I could change, in spite of Prowl… I would give just about anythin’ for this to really be the end of it—for all of you.” Ratchet glanced back at the relatively younger mech, and Wheeljack shook his head. “But it’s not… It’s just startin’.”
Ratchet didn’t want to believe that.
He really didn’t.
He wanted to go down, kicking and screaming, as he rejected the Wrecker’s dire words.
He wanted Wheeljack to be wrong.
All of them did, after all they had gone through—which was what was causing this rift.
But in that moment, Ratchet felt himself become overcome with a tidal wave of dread.
He believed Wheeljack.
But what good did that do, now?
“… Go on, Ratchet,” Wheeljack said quietly, still looking so very tired, then he noticed something behind the old field-tech and frowned. “Careful.”
The field-tech looked back, and he saw the three mechs who had chosen to be Prowl’s pallbearers—already resigning himself to be the fourth.
Ratchet has been planning to fold Prowl’s servos and make him look a little more comfortable in his casket… but someone else had already done it.
By the look on Jazz’s face, it hadn’t been him.
The field-tech glanced forward, his expression forlorn, but Wheeljack was already gone—his back turned, disappearing into a hallway.
“Damn it, kid,” Ratchet whispered, then he turned away and saw Optimus adjusting the Allspark container’s handle in his servo. “Hm. We can probably find a better way to carry that.”
“Nowhere near my spark,” Optimus reminded the older mech, glancing back. “I can do that much.”
“How very interesting,” Megatron mused, and Optimus glanced at him. “The Wrecker’s words? How strange it is that you treat them as law.” His optics narrowed. “I wonder, what ever became of his universe’s version of Optimus Prime?
“Doesn’t matter,” Optimus replied, looking up at the Decepticon with a glare. “He’s not here. I am.”
“… And yet, you’re afraid,” Megatron said.
“Well, I can learn from the mistakes of others,” Optimus told him. “You can’t even learn from your own.” The warlord’s face dropped, and the young Prime raised an optic-brow. “Done? Okay, then.”
Optimus lowered the ramp, and he took a deep vent before glancing back at everyone: Sari and Arcee, the pallbearers and their casket, all of the Decepticon prisoners and protoforms he was about to deliver. It should have been the Prime’s triumph, but Ratchet could see his anxiety.
How there was an empty space, and a space that had been filled by the unimaginable.
Ratchet would’ve done anything to take away the weight on the younger mech’s shoulders, but it was only going to keep on growing.
What more could they lose?
A lot, Ratchet supposed.
What could they survive losing?
He wasn’t sure they’d even survived this.
“… We shouldn’t let him stay behind,” Ratchet said at last, standing beside Prowl’s casket but not yet gripping it for history’s saddest parade.
“I don’t think he should have to deal with any of our prisoners, right now,” Optimus explained, gesturing. “Or-…” He looked at Prowl’s casket, then he looked away. “Plus, you know how he is with crowds, even on a planet that he actually likes. He’d just freeze and make the face, the-”
“Deer in headlights,” Sari chimed half-heartedly.
“That’s the one.” Optimus nodded, then he looked at Ratchet again. “He needs his space.”
“In this case? No.” Ratchet shook his head. “I don’t think he does.” He didn’t want to say much in the company of Decepticons, but he couldn’t help but try. “I’m worried about him, Prime.”
“Me, too.” Optimus sighed. “But honestly, I-… I don’t feel like I’m in a place to help anyone, right now.” Ratchet’s face fell as the young Prime he was so proud of looked towards the ramp gravely. “I don’t deserve this. Prowl was the hero.”
“… You’re all heroes, kid,” Ratchet told his wearily leader softly, taking his place beside Prowl’s casket and grabbing ahold of it. “Come on.”
“Hm.” Optimus managed a small, tired smile, then he faced that ramp and braced himself for what was to come. “Okay, Autobots… Roll out.”
“He went saving the Allspark. That’s what matters.”
Wheeljack was almost relieved for the lack of perfect quiet as he made his way through the halls of Omega Supreme’s vehicle mode.
He could hear the crowd outside, and—as much as he wanted to avoid it—the noise was helping in his efforts to try and avoid something worse.
“I was trying to keep the past from repeating itself!”
The Wrecker arrived on Omega Supreme’s bridge just before the goliath transformed into his biped mode. As he had predicted, that room remained the most stable during the tremendous shift.
But it also lifted Wheeljack up and further away from the crowd, away from the cheers and closer to the noises filling up his churning mind.
He’d have given his T-Cog for some high-grade.
“You take too many risks. I might strike out alone, but at least I calculate my strikes.”
Wheeljack took a sharp vent as he made his way to the window and looked down at the world below, the shining lights of a living Cybertron and the crow that had gathered at Omega Supreme’s feet. The ‘Cons and protoforms were being taken away as the heroic team was being honored.
And as much as he didn’t want to, Wheeljack could make out the pill-shape of Prowl’s casket.
“Your spark is always in the right place, but that just so happens to always put it in the direct line of fire—and you don’t even care.”
Wheeljack closed his optics and turned his back, crossing his arms. That didn’t silence his mind.
He should have see the signs.
Prowl was always so reckless.
“What if, one of these days, all of this reckless Wrecker behavior of yours gets you killed while you’re trying to protect one of us? And don’t you dare say ‘that’s the job’.”
He should have known that Prowl would be ready to make the sacrifice play. He was so worried about Optimus because of all of the associations and connected dots, but now: Prowl was dead.
He should have done more.
“You can’t do it all, and you shouldn’t try to. You’re a teammate, not a weapon or a shield.”
He should have saved that kid, whatever it took.
“We want you to come home, when the battle is done.”
“Fair enough, ninja-‘bot. Fair enough… Just make sure you remember that too, alright?”
“Of course.”
And he should have never been holding back. He should have trusted his instincts, and ended this long before it started—before the risk grew.
“I-I’m fine. I just-… I’m scared. I have never been ready for this, any of it—I always ran away. Now, I-… I feel as though I have too much to lose.”
He should have ended Megatron and all the rest that day in the mines, the kids’ sensibilities and his own life be damned. At least they’d be alive!
“You think that someone could die.”
The Wrecker raised a servo to his face, his whole frame shaking as he let out a ragged vent.
“I’ll see you when this is over.”
Wheeljack’s optics opened and widened.
—0—0—0—
Ultra Magnus’s apology didn’t reach him.
Nothing did.
Not Moonracer’s gentle but firm grip on his arm, not Seaspray’s servo on his shoulder.
As Wheeljack staggered to his feet, he could feel himself locking into autopilot. It was familiar, too familiar—and that day, when he felt hollow and numb and cold, he didn’t resist that pull.
He wanted the deep, dark pit inside to swallow him whole and take him away from the fire and rubble. He wanted to be with his kids, again.
But instead, he got to work—because in spite of everything, he would only go down swinging.
“Kid?” Springer asked, looking back as the young mech retrieved a medical kit from his storage compartment. “Hey, what are you doin’?” When the white and gray mech didn’t respond and started walking, the former leader of the Wreckers grabbed his arm. “Wheeljack.”
“We’ve got wounded,” Wheeljack said quietly.
Springer frowned. “Nothin’ critical. It can wait.”
“No.” Wheeljack sharply tore his arm away from Springer’s grasp. “… No.” He met the concerned older mech’s gaze. “Reinforcements will be here any time now. We have to be ready to move.”
“Wheeljack…” Springer gazed at him sadly, but he didn’t try to stop the younger mech again.
Wheeljack worked late into the night, on the move and around the crackling campfire, then he finally went off by himself and broke.
In the morning, he awoke with a tarp around his shoulders and an Energon canister by his foot. It didn’t change how cold and empty he felt.
He was supposed to protect them.
—0—0—0—
Wheeljack’s servo fell from his head as he stared at the floor, his whole being turning cold.
He didn’t get the terrifying relief of that hollow feeling in his spark and mind, though. He didn’t get the numb emptiness that had filled with a burning anger and allowed him to strike.
There was something inside of him that had been building up since he first saw that tiny, gray body hanging from Jazz’s arms in Detroit—something that rage held at bay, that numb had forged a wall to seal up. They weren’t helping him, now.
It was there.
He felt it.
It was swallowing him. He wanted to fight back against it, but… he couldn’t bring himself to.
Not even just for appearances’ sake.
Not then.
Not yet.
“… Omega?” Wheeljack managed, surprised that his voice managed to stay so steady.
“Yes?”
The Wrecker took a sharp vent. “Are-? Are there any soundproof rooms ‘round here?”
“Well, um… The cells.”
“… Alright.” Wheeljack nodded shakily. He hated what he was about to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Light up a path for me?”
“Very well.”
The ship went dark, then select ceiling lights lit in the hallway—guiding Wheeljack’s way.
He followed them.
“Have you ever failed someone?”
Wheeljack tried to control his pace, but he was practically running through the halls—trying to outrun a invisible enemy that was going to catch up at him, no matter what he did.
He was just doing all he could to try and pick out the site of his last stand against it.
He had been struggling against it for hours at this point, knocked on his aft by it a few times but still managing to get back on his feet and hold on just a little longer. That was over, now.
He wasn’t winning this one.
“They got hurt, and you couldn’t make it right no matter how much you desperately wanted to do so.”
Wheeljack made it down into the brig, and he hated how relieved he felt at the sight of it.
“I do not understand,” Omega Supreme said to him, genuinely confused as Wheeljack staggered into a cell. “You wish to be sealed inside?”
“For a few minutes, if you don’t mind,” Wheeljack said, trying to ignore how his head spun.
“Alright,” the goliath said hesitantly.
And the door slid shut.
“I am most-grateful to have had you as my mentor. You are reckless and stubborn, and you have no sense of self-preservation—but you are also patient, and kind, a-and supportive, and you actually care about us… about me… and-…”
Wheeljack stepped backwards until his winglets scraped against a wall of the cell, his optics still wide as he crossed his arms and took deep vents.
He closed his optics, shaking his head as he tried his damndest to fight this losing battle.
“And I’m glad you’re here.”
But he lost, anyway. Story of his life, right?
He lost everything.
So, why did he even bother?
Omega Supreme was made to protect Autobots.
That was his primary objective. Whatever he had to do to achieve it, it was to be of no concern. The end superseded the means, the mission took the priority, and he was never meant to doubt that.
Ratchet discouraged that line of thought.
He told Omega Supreme that everything had a weight to it, everything had a cost, and every life had value and meaning—but sometimes, to save lives, a life had to be taken. It wasn’t kind or good, but that didn’t stop it from being right from time to time—especially during the Cybertronian War, when the Autobots were sending out younger and younger soldiers to fight all the time. The Omega Sentinel saw how sad it made Ratchet, how sad the old field-tech was every time he marched out to fight, and recognized that “young”—to Ratchet—meant “deserved to be shielded from pain”.
Omega Supreme was made to protect Autobots.
That meant that, though Omega was as much of a “kid” as the rest of those young soldiers, he was not going to be shielded… He was the shield.
That should have made him upset, but it didn’t. It was humbling, in a way—to be the one who, by taking a stand, would protect so many others.
But the war, the destruction and devastation he witnessed and wrought, it haunted him. It was why, at the end of all things, he asked to sleep.
He knew it broke Ratchet’s spark when he asked. It broke Ratchet’s spark every time he asked.
To him, it was peace—an escape from the horrors. To Ratchet, it was losing someone he cared for.
His mentor, his friend, was determined to save him—like his small frame could shield the giant.
Omega Supreme was always grateful for that.
And when Ratchet asked him for help, he came—to protect that planet Earth, and the family his oldest and most trusted friend had made there.
He wanted to shield all of them from pain.
So, Omega Supreme felt his spark break when the Wrecker fell to his knees, curled up upon himself, closed his optics, and screamed until his voice gave out. The cell held the sound in, and the darkness betrayed only the soft glow that filled the cell as screaming gave way to sobs and drops of shining blue struck dull metal floor panels.
The Omega Sentinel would never speak of what he witnessed, nor give any indication that the cells could be soundproofed to the outside but his security systems did have the necessary surveillance to monitor all occupants even when muted. He just did his duty and watched over the Autobot, hoping it was enough to protect him.
He did what he had to do, even though it didn’t make much sense to him. He had seen so much death and destruction, but his experience with grief was limited to what he had seen in Ratchet and witnessed over the course of the past day.
How much of this had he caused in his service?
Whatever the numbers were, the pain being felt by those who were left behind, Omega Supreme knew he never wanted to cause suffering again.
He didn’t want to fight anymore.
But in a universe like this, how could he possibly shield his Autobots without taking a stand?
He couldn’t make sense of it.
He couldn’t make sense of much of what he had heard over the past day, even the talk between his teacher and this alternate Wheeljack.
They were making everything so complicated, when Omega Supreme thought it very simple: Megatron was a prisoner, so protocol mandated his return to Cybertron for trial. However, it was the opinion of the alternate Wheeljack that the threat Megatron posed was too great.
He had to be destroyed.
Honestly, Omega Supreme saw his point—but the Wrecker had been overruled, so that was that. They were following the usual protocol.
Omega didn’t know if that was right.
He just knew his primary objective—and that the end superseded the means, that the mission took the priority.
And this young, strange Wheeljack from another reality who Ratchet had come to care for so much was in pain. He didn’t want to fight anymore, but he still did.
For them.
And he would likely continue to do so, just keep fighting to protect the ones that he cared about until he physically could not do so anymore. That was his primary objective, and he could not just go to sleep.
Right?
“Wheeljack.” Omega was surprised out of his thoughts when he felt a knock on the cell door, and he opened it. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, Omega.” Wheeljack seemed perfectly fine, resting his servos on his hips and tilting his head as he glanced around. “How’s about we take a look at you, while we’re waitin’ for the others? Make sure you’re all patched-up.”
“… Very well,” Omega Supreme agreed, lighting up pathways to the various systems which were reporting the need for repairs.
Wheeljack nodded in thanks, then the Wrecker started to make his way along the pathways—leaving that dark cell behind him.
Omega Supreme watched, feeling uneasy. He was never the best at reading Autobot emotions, but Wheeljack’s had changed too fast.
There had to be something wrong.
… Perhaps there was more than one kind of sleep.
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thenamesblurrito · 7 months
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i absolutely do not feel like explaining the entire context of this whole bit for @heartsandsparksshipweek, i guess the domestic prompt. or together? or au?? i dunno. anyways.
from a TFA au fic i have yet to write, using @agatharights fantastic genderbent Sumdac and holoform Megatron bc i love these designs. Isabel has just been freed from several months of being kidnapped and even Megatron is having feelings about it. cue family cuddle pile
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wyrm-with-a-why · 13 days
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Megatron waking up in the sumdac headquarters and not really remembering much but just that his carrier protocols are on and his sparkling is nowhere to be found so as he’s freaking out, Isaac hears him and they meet, Megatron frantically explaining he’s missing his baby so Isaac connects the dots and brings Sari to meet her mom for the first time and Megatron doesn’t really think of conquering worlds he’s just trying to make up lost time for his sparkling
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bbrocklesnar · 8 months
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the way megatron says CHAIR here.
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man hasn't forgotten how the professor used his hand/servo as a piece of furniture and has def been waiting for the right time to roast him for it.
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mfdragon · 4 months
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I just realized that your AU Blitzwing and Issac Sumdac became fathers in the exact same way. Touching weird alien tech that spawned a child based in part off of you.
Oh FUCK
OH THATS WHERE MY BRAIN PULLED THAT FROM!!!! Oh shit OH FUCK YOURE SO RIGHT!!
so then when Blitzwing goes to Sumdac and describes to him what happened and asks him questions about being a dad Sumdac is SWEATING HIS BALLS OFF OH MY GOWD!!!
(Oh no that means he RREEEAAALLY feels for Blitzwing. Oh no, attachment?? New dad just dropped and Sumdac needs to make sure he becomes a good dad for the kids sake??)
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sweetpeaches666 · 10 months
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News Bot: Optimus Prime, how does it feel knowing your best friend Sentinel Prime accidentally sent Professor Sumdac's daughter to outer space?
Optimus, becoming angry: HE WHAT?!?!
News Bot: Share your pain.
(Optimus sees Sentinel trying to get away and leaps towards him while their respective teams try to separate them.)
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ivycorp · 1 month
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Sari's Mom Has Got It Goin' On (3539 words) by IvyCorp Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Megatron & Isaac Sumdac Characters: Megatron (Transformers), Isaac Sumdac Additional Tags: Arguing, Teasing, Body Modification, Family Drama, will update the tags as we go along Series: Part 1 of Hearts and Sparks Ship Week 2024 Summary:
Part of Hearts and Sparks ShipWeek 2024 - Day 1: Culture Shock/Date Night
Isaac Sumdac is worried for his secret companion, even if Megatron insists that he shouldn't get distracted.
Just like a good friend that he is, he finds a solution.
My first entry for the @heartsandsparksshipweek!
I'll be updating it over a week, hope you'll enjoy this as it goes ;)
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tealcicada · 4 months
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Not an ask or request really, but I am making this AU thing called "Megatron's Kids", and it is HEAVILY INSPIRED by your Decepticon!Sari AU. I don't know if you elaborated before, but if you could, could you tell me how Sari was— 'Born' per say? Because I kind of don't understand protoforms that well ahahah......
EEEEEEEEEEEEE I'm so excited that I inspired you! I'm looking forward to see what you make!!
Ok so I kinda addressed it in my big loose outline of my au but my thoughts were that they had that shipment of protoform blanks from Lockdown and Megs goes about turning one of them into his kid by splitting a piece of his spark off and putting it into the protoform but the process isn't as instantaneous as the show shows or since it's just a piece of a spark it needs more time to essentially gestate and grow out the spark. The finding of the allspark and optimus's crew has Megs shooting the half baked protoform into an escape pod for safe keeping before he engages with the autobot crew and firght for the allspark.
Then when megs crash lands and is being repaired in Isaac's lab, the escape pod eventually makes it's way there via a homing beacon back to megatron which is where isaac finds it and like the show touching it has it genetically imprint onto isaac to but in my au the static shock also awakens megatron and so he's awake basically since sari's birth leading to all the divergence
In my au, splitting and incubating a spark like megs did comes with high risk to parent and child and takes a long time for both sparks to grow back into a whole spark which would make it uncommon or rare for bots to want to go through. But the allspark could be used to like make unlimited fully formed sparks quickly to fill protoforms and make new bots quickly which is why its so powerful and sought after by the decepticons and their dwindling forces. The wiki says that the protoforms just come from like mined matter like clay but i like the idea that vector sigma makes the protoforms and allspark gives it life or something like that
Hope this helps! Def feel free to bounce ideas off of me, i love talking about animated and this au
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