#mech’s being an idiot again
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IM FINISHING AN S3 ATLA REWATCH AND UGHHHHH KATARA AND ZUKO COULDVE BEEN EVERYTHING
#zutara#atla#started crying at the final agni kai THEY COULDVE BEEN EVERYTHING#mech’s being an idiot again#‘rewatching an s3 rewatch’ IM SO BAD AT WORDS SORRY
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[ how i feel after putting the M2 tag after every post vaguely relating to the arc and being sad when nobody says anything about it because i am way too vague ]
#[ featherfall; reflective down ]#[ ooc post ]#[ ooc; a certified mech’s being an idiot again moment ]
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u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'
OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury
Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3
“Yui, I’m okay–”
The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious.
“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!”
He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.”
There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.
He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good.
Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless.
Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his.
The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them.
Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck.
As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit.
He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up.
“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile.
“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice.
“Leo? Are you okay?”
“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.”
Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards.
“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.”
“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case.
“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows.
“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.”
“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?”
Yuichi stares.
“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–”
“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood.
“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?”
“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.”
Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever.
“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.”
Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence.
“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.”
Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.”
“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.”
Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner.
“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose.
“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.”
Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles.
“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.”
#NOT PROOFREAD I had to stop myself because every time I tried to check this over I kept writing MORE and that's just not sustainable#sdfghhsfghjafsfd#anyway these peepaws gay#rottmnt#rottmnt fanart#rottmnt fanfiction#leoichi#peepaw leo#peepaw yuichi#other characters mentioned + a cameo from#rise leo#future leonardo#future leo#samurai rabbit#usagi chronicles#yuichi usagi#usagi yuichi#tervdraws#tervdrabbles
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okay but what about robots in disguise?? its not a favorite of mine but it’s still pretty good. russel and his dad are decent lol
Frag that show.
It disrespected TFP on every level and for that it has my eternal hatred and contempt. The humans were annoying, and I HATED how many interesting plot threads there were that were either done poorly or with so little tact that the writing team should have just scrapped it. The designs are tolerable, but I hate how canon TFP characters lost so much of their individuality in their designs (coughtheopticscough). Smokescreen is fricking GONE, which bothers me more than I care to admit. We see the rest of the team enough to be reasonable, but they all appear in ways that don't really make me happy.
Ratchet was done well enough in my opinion. I like his RID design. It suites him. Optimus's design can go die in a hole, they brutalized that mech. Same with Jazz. Frag those stupid shoulder pads.
Grimlock is fun, I appreciate Sideswipe, although his helm hair thingies I think need a redesign to make sense in relation to his alt mode. Strongarm was HORRIBLY underutilized and I hardly saw any character growth in her. Drift and his crew were interesting, but similarly not given much room to grow. I really liked Windblade for the most part, especially the episode where she tries to baby Optimus and comes out having relearned that Op is still a PRIME with MILLIONS OF YEARS OF WAR EXPERIENCE.
The Primes who've done nothing but sit on their rears had NO RIGHT to belittle Optimus at every turn. Nor did the show have the right to make him an idiot for the sake of making Bee look smarter. As @nova--spark has pointed out, the personality Bee got in the show matches Smokescreen better. Bumblebee wouldn't have SUCKED so much at the whole leadership shtick. What happened to all that skill shown in the movie huh? HUH WRITING TEAM????!??!?!
While I am on this train. OPTIMUS DIED SO GOSH DARN LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! He should have stayed deceased, or if they REALLY needed him back, he should have either returned as an Civi or came back with actual issues. Like dang hear me out mate.
Optimus is forcefully returned to life, beats the Fallen with his borrowed power, but then has to actually deal with the consequences of essentially being a walking bomb for a while. Make him start losing plating, make his frame HURT, make him slim down again into the TFP base design. Just, give him a reason to have to sit back and RECOVER. Not this whole half hearted limping around garbage. To add to that, don't baby the mech. Let him stay at base and fulfill the role Ratchet did in TFP. Let him use his knowledge to teach and offer wisdom, plan battles and locate enemies. For Primus's sake he could have gone undercover on Cybertron or something if they really needed him to go be useless elsewhere.
THEY COULD HAVE EVEN HAD AN ARC WITH HIM GIVING THE TEAM A WAKEUP CALL!!! SIdeswipe has no respect for the mission, Grimlock is a fool, Strongarm is too snarky, and Bee in this seems to have largely forgotten about the seriousness except for during key moments. They could have made Optimus a minor antagonist, forcing the team to follow wartime standards since they laid down this plot thread regarding issues between leadership styles and Optimus trying to take control of the operation more than once.
I would have paid money to see Optimus's wartime mentality show itself in the best and worst ways through how he worked with this group of non war vets on a Decepticon capture mission. Maybe even have him use lethal force once or twice, or at least hint at it so that people can be reminded that he is a mech who went to war, killed countless bots, and both drove their people to and saved their people from extinction.
Bee could have had to teach Optimus to calm down. He could have helped eased his leader out of his wartime mindset. Or following that whole council running Cybertron route, Optimus could have had his moment of being very much right when he points out WHY he fought at all and gestures towards the new council. There was SO MUCH potential in this show, so many good threads and interesting Decepticon character that could have given so much depth to the war and the aligned continuity as a whole, but they were almost ALL ignored.
*deep breath*
Alright, sorry about that. I have big feelings in regards to how dirty Optimus was done. Moving on, the Predacons were killed off supposedly and that pisses me off ESPECIALLY because it was done in a fricking offscreen setting. What the hell happened to Predaking??? WHERE DID HE GO????
Starscream's design was rad though, not going to lie.
Where is Shockwave? No seriously where is that fragger? After several years of the map he MUST have an army growing in a tank somewhere.
Soundwave. Why. ARe. YOU. HERE??!?!?!? I love you man but dang you are so out of place. He made sense in the context of trying to get to Megatron, but idk he felt like he deserved better. He should have been the big brain behind the Cons on Earth if you asked me. It would have made everything far more intense, especially if the Cons dont follow Decepticon creed as seen by Soundwave.
The humans were annoying. Sorry they just were.
Fixit is Primus's gift to RID and he's one of the few individuals who makes it less annoying. Idk, I just like him in reasonable doses.
WHERE ARE THE TFP KIDS?! WHY HAS BEE NOT CALLED THEM?? GOOD HEAVENS THERE IS A WHOLE SUBPLOT RIGHT THERE!!!
*yet another deep breath*
Apologies.
To put things simply, I would rather a group of fanfic writers put RID together than whoever the writing team was. They could have made a coherent story with deep characters that actually address the ramifications of millions of years of war and lingering functionalist mindsets. They would have done the lore and the world justice even if there were no main characters popping up.
I think RID has so much potential, but that almost all of it went right down the toilet due to either the higher ups sticking their noses where they don't belong or because the writing team couldn't go two minutes without retconning or otherwise destroying established everything.
Thank you for coming to my ted talk.
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#transformers rid2015#lets try some writing mumbles#rant#bumblebee#team prime#optimus prime#bee team#post war cybertron#fic ideas#sorry but this frickin show made me so mad#I appreciated the ideas#execution deserved to be beheaded
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Sonic Boom Shatterverse (Sonic Prime/Sonic Boom)
I'm certain that, after seeing the ending of Sonic Prime, a lot of people have thrown around ideas in regards to what had happened to the Paradox Prism and where Shadow teleported it via Chaos Control. One would assume that he would make sure to teleport it somewhere where no one can find it.
So, how about accidentally teleporting it to a different Sonic Universe?
Think about a scenario where Shadow manages to Chaos Control to a different cave and figures that nobody would be able to find the Paradox Prism there. Sure, this cave has a bunch of paintings in it, but otherwise, it looks very isolated and very empty, so he leaves the Paradox Prism there, figuring no one will use it and that it's completely safe there.
However, as Prime!Shadow Chaos Controls back home, he has no clue that the cave he accidentally teleported the Paradox Prism to was actually a very specific cave belonging to a very specific hedgehog.
Yep, you read this right! Prime!Shadow somehow ended up teleporting the Paradox Prism into the Sonic Boom universe, and what's worse, he left it in Boom!Shadow's cave (who wasn't around to witness this).
To make things even better, this also appears to be the very same cave where Sonic and his friends have found that mech from Episode 065: Mech Suits Me, meaning that yes, there is a possibility that they are going to find it - again.
So, let me ask you folks - how long would it take for the Boom Team to not only end up in this cave again (along with Boom!Eggman and Boom!Shadow), but Boom!Sonic being the one to shatter the Paradox Prism and forced to fix reality.
What would the Shatterverse Variants of the Boom Team be? Would Boom!Tails have a Nine-like variant? Would Boom!Knuckles be the Captain of a pirate crew? Would Boom!Amy end up as a micromanaging robot? I imagine, for hilarity's sake, Sticks to act pretty much the same in every Shatterspace reality, trying to confirm some crazy multiverse conspiracy.
What about the Boom version of the Chaos Council? Boom!Eggman is a lovable goofball whose main plan is to turn the island into an amusement park. So, what if the Boom version of New Yoke City is actually a New Yoke Amusement Park, where everyone is forced to attend the rides and eat junk food, and those who refuse end up working as corporate slaves- ahem, employees at the amusement park.
Of course, the highlight would be these two idiots, who probably couldn't work together even if the world is literally falling apart before their eyes.
Yeah, as much as I love Boom!Shadow, there is no way he'd be able to work along with Boom!Sonic without some serious persuasion. Admittedly, Sonic Boom is a comedy show, so the drama would be minimal. Nevertheless, I would love for these two to actually develop a partnership akin to their Sonic Prime counterparts.
As a matter of fact, imagine a situation where Boom!Shadow has to save Boom!Sonic, and once their reality is repaired, they go right back to the inevitable fighting.
But, this is just a premise I came up with. Do you guys have any ideas?
EDIT: So, how does Sonic shatter the Paradox Prism, allowing the Shatterverse to happen?
Basically, Team Sonic and Eggman start fighting over this shiny rock they found in the cave (aka the Paradox Prism) and Shadow returns and is pissed off that they're in his home, so his first move is to tackle Sonic right into the Paradox Prism, causing it to shatter.
Also, he keeps blaming Sonic for it shattering during their whole adventure, even when Sonic points out Shadow pushed him into it.
#Sonic the Hedgehog Analyzer (Masterlist)
#Ten's Thoughts#sonic prime#sonic boom#boom sonic#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#boom shadow#boom amy#boom knuckles#boom tails#amy rose#knuckles the echidna#dr eggman#sticks the badger#sonadow#sonadow prime#boom sonadow
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Ahem, yes it is I! So an idea literally bashed me in the face and I couldn't help but think 'Oh this is an interesting idea!'
What if different versions Transformers have this crossover (Bayverse, T.F.P., T.F.A., GEN 1, Knightverse which is one of my favourites because of Charlie and Bumblebee or any other universes you're familiar with it) where T.F.P.'s groundbridge malfunctioned (probably Wheeljack and Bulkhead) The reader works in the T.F.P. universe Ratchet's assistant and they're his guardian on top of that. Of course, instead of sending them to a desired location the groundbridge ended up locating them in a different dimension... it was Bayverse's while the other dimensions were already there and T.F.P. just lands there last. Just complete and utter silence until Miko says something. You can tell how shit went downhill from there, but let's pretend no one dies for the sake of it all. My dearest reader and T.F.P. O.P. are dating but also not dating; they're just orbiting one another while being friends and T.F.P.'s O.P. is just content and not necessarily talkative but just sweet with the reader. Always carrying them around and so on. Of course, the other universes notice that. Jazz from Gen 1 is just smirking in that damn corner and all versions of Prowl wondering why is their lives are like this. It doesn't help that T.F.P.'s Ratchet has been tired of seeing these two idiots being in love and not doing shit about it. Obviously, the other O.P. versions caught on and the reactions... varied. Surprise, to utter.. confusion and curiosity to completely just wondering if there is a reader on their Earth. You can always add in anything you wish; I really love bantering amongst the others too! AND IRONHIDE'S REACTIONS TOO-
Multiverse to Bayverse (Transformers Multiverse/ TMV)
Will probably edit it later for typos lol
(Bayverse, Animated, Prime, Earthspark, Gen 1)
Various! Optimus Primes X Reader
Ratchet noticed something was wrong with the groundbridge when it started growing a weird yellowish color. Before anyone could say anything, a wave covered all of them in golden light.
June, who walked in with popcorn, looked around the room in question. “Uh, guys?”
You all landed on the harsh ground, and heard a voice. Before you could hit the ground, Optimus caught you in his servos.
We all looked up to see a large group of around twenty Cybertronians. There was complete silence in the room as everyone looked at eachother, when Miko chimes in. “Uh, why are there like five Optimus Primes? Raise of hands if you’re secretly another Optimus.”
Everyone gave her a deadpan look when you realized quickly that you were not in your Optimus’ servos. You looked up to see an almost cartoonish looking bot, smiling sheepishly down at you.
“Uh, hi. I’m Optimus Prime, nice to meet you.”
You squinted at him, and looked around the room. “Okay so I assume that this has to do with the groundbridge explosion- or I’m in a weird dream.”
The four Optimus Primes that were new to you looked at you in confusion. “Groundbridge?” Two chime in.
“Uh… yeah. A scaled down version of the space bridge. Ratchet engineered it to transport everyone anywhere on Earth- we couldn’t have anything as high-scale as a space bridge because we lack the energon for it.”
“Well why don’t you just use oil?” A voice sounds.
You all look over to a green bot. “Bulkhead?” Arcee asked.
“Uh, yeah- how do you know my name?”
Your Bulkhead made his way forward to inspect the other one. At the same time both Bulkheads showed their wrecking ball hand. “Woah! Twins!” Both of them said at the same time.
“Bulk, please never do that again,” Miko looked at them in joking fear. “You remind me of the twins from that one horror movie.”
“Aww come on Miko! It’s not everyday you meet, well, yourself!” Bulkhead grumbled.
“Can we focus on the situation, please?” A gray mech asked. They looked strikingly like Megatron. The next second, almost everyone in the room had their guns trained on him.
He quickly backed up with his hands above his heads. One Optimus stood in front of him, hands up. “Woah, this Megatron is an autobot now! He’s alright.”
Everyone squinted or glared at him. Generation One’s Optimus didn’t back down. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know for certain that I’m not cool with Megatron being here.”
You turned to him, gaping. “Did you just say ‘cool’? What?”
Jazz laughed aloud. “Yeah, that’s Op for ya! He just started learning Earth slang from Spike!”
“Alright, enough!” All of the Ratchets shouted at once. Everyone looked at them. A good eighty percent of the room burst into giggles or tried their best to stop that urge.
“Looks like no matter what dimension you go to, Ratchet’s always the same.” Wheeljack said. A chorus of varied agreements sounded through the room, making the renowned grouches grumble.
Soon enough, you all began figuring out how you were all there. It was pretty much the same for everyone- one way or another, a yellow light ran over them.
You all started constructing various groundbridges in hopes that it could somehow send you home.
You often hung out with your Prime, making everyone else curious about your relationship. You could almost always be seen on his shoulder or in his servo. You almost never walked anywhere.
It was pretty obvious to everyone- except a few of the younger bots like animated Bumblebee and Knightverse Bumblebee.
Bayverse Prime (with his never ending confidence) was the first to approach you. “Hello, (Y/N). Would you like to go on a walk with me?” He held his hand out. You stepped onto his hand and sat down.
As he made his way out of base, everyone watched you two. Primeverse Optimus couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest as you both walked out. He knew that he didn’t have a right to feel that way- you two weren’t even together. Not yet, at least.
Everyone noticed the look on his face even though he himself didn’t.
All of the Ratchets had the same thought: ‘Primes (Derogatory)’.
Optimus from the Animated universe was confused. He was normally pretty in tune with his emotions, and he doesn’t see why Prime Optimus doesn’t just ask you out. He’d been trying to subtly hint at that, but Prime Optimus was somehow oblivious. Animated Optimus also wondered if you existed in his universe- you were very charming and, he’s embarrassed to say, cute.
G1 Optimus teased your Optimus on the subject. He always mentioned how back in his day he was a spark breaker. Earthspark Optimus always tried to scold G1 Optimus for his behaviors, but then G1 Jazz would join in on the teasing so he’d have to chase both of them around.
Earthspark Optimus would comfort him, trying to encourage him gently to follow his spark. While he’ll never understand the attraction to a human, he believes that it’s not really his business. Even Earthspark Megatron gave fairly good advice to the other bot.
Bayverse Ironhide sort of agreed with their advice- but also warned the Prime. “If you wait too long, they’ll find another. Make something of yourself, Prime!”
You both stopped at a pond and he sat down on the ground. He placed you gently next to him as he threw seeds into the water. You both watched as fish swam to the surface and bobbed up and down to try and snag a treat.
“Are you and my counterpart… together?”
A flushed look covered your face as you snapped your head towards him. “Wh-n- I-” You covered your face with your hands. “No, we aren’t together.”
“Ah. I see.” Bayverse Optimus had a lot more experience with this sort of thing. “So you have feelings for him, then?”
Your face got impossibly warmer and simply nodded. “We haven’t been dating so to say… but we’re really close. I would just never have the guts to… you know.”
Bayverse Optimus merely nodded at you and left you at the pond by yourself. When he got back into the base he and Ironhide grabbed the Prime by his arms and began dragging him off. The other Primes and Ratchets knew exactly what was going on and followed.
When they got into a more secluded room of the base, they set him down and pushed him into a chair. Primeverse Optimus was confused and a little anxious as the many bots surrounded him.
“When are you going to ask them out?” G1 Optimus teased.
Primverse merely shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea at the moment. There’s a war go-”
“Oh stop being a fragging boltbrain!” Bayverse Ratchet yelled.
“They have been waiting for you to ask them out for months now!” Primeverse Ratchet yelled.
His eyes widened at that knowledge. “I don’t know.”
“Fine, I guess I’ll go ask the lil’ lady on a date then.” Jazz began to strut out of the room when Optimus shouted for him to stop.
“What should I say?” Primeverse Optimus questioned.
“Alright, so here’s what you say.”
While you were at the pond, a gathering of girls and femme bots surrounded you.
“So he still hasn’t asked you out yet?!” The Arcees were shocked.
“Yeah, you’d think he would have by now, right?” Their counterpart from Primeverse shook her head. “I think he’s just worried about the war.”
Miko threw her hands over her head. “So?! He needs to get the girl!”
Your hands were holding your face yet again. Prowl gently laid a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). Good things come in time- and some bots,” he glared at everyone else, “Shouldn’t rush it.”
You smiled up at the ninjabot. “Thanks, Prowl.”
He smiled back, though irritated at the situation. Some bots were so nosy and loud. They always had to get into everything and couldn’t leave well enough alone.
Suddenly you were swept up by Jazz, who yelled out “Sorry, I’m borrowing the lil’ lady!” Prowl facepalmed as the girls cheered.
You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level.
“I” He paused to get his words together. “I have had feelings for you for a while. I know that we’ve been friends for a while, and just friends. I have no clue if you share the sa-”
“If you’re asking me out, the answer is yes.” You planted a shy kiss on his faceplate. The Prime’s cheeks grew a flushed blue. Suddenly confetti streamers fell on the two of you. You both looked up to see Miko, Animated Bee, and Sari in the rafters. A bucket fell on Optimus’ head which made the rafter bound group wince.
“Uh.. congrats?” Bumblebee quickly grabbed the other two kids and bolted.
You and Optimus chuckled as he brought you up to his faceplate for another kiss.
ALTERNATIVE ENDING:
You and Optimus were shoved into a room together. The large bot offered a hand to you which you stepped onto. He raised you up to eye level. “I-” he paused to get his words together. “Well, my name is Optimus Prime, yo! The other primes are my friends, yo! Uh-huh, they told me everything.”
You looked up at Optimus in confusion, about to say something when he continued.
“And I like you a lot, yo!”
Outside the door, everyone looked at Jazz with glares. He just shrugged as a grin pulled at his face. "What? I’m sure it will work.”
#jazz#optimus prime#transformers bayverse#transformers animated#g1#tf g1#transformers prime#maccaddam#ratchet#miko#sari#transformers x reader#tfe#transformers earthspark#tfp#tfb#tmv#optimus x reader#optimus prime x reader#prowl#arcee#sari sumbac#miko nakadai#bumblebee#transformers bumblebee#breaking bad#breaking bad reference#oopsineedtostopmakingbreakingbadreferences
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What au has been running around your brain the most lately?
GLAD YOU ASKED YOURE GONNA REGRET IT.
I call it The au that I made up but have no creativity to make anything with it: subjecting soundwave to the horrors of the Lost Light; a coswave au
So basically I’m insane right? So what if I put Soundwave (and co) along with cosmos on the lost light (against their will) and force them to endure the tortures of captain rodimus prime and co-captain megatron absolutely fucking shit up in the universe (also ravage is still alive bc fuck you IDW give her back).
Soundwave and Cosmos get stuck on the Lost Light during a stop at the Sanctuary Station and now Rodimus and crew have to figure out how to get them back home (weird-science-dimension-hopping-probably-brainstorms-fault-shit idk just go with it). Soundwave hates this very much bc 1) he didn’t ask to be on this torture bus to hell, 2) now his station is left sorta unattended (hold down fort sky-byte!), and most importantly, 3) that bitch megatron >:((.
It’s not all THAT bad tho bc cosmos is here and he gets to be reunited with Ravage again (he misses ravage. So much). But still. Let me out let me OOUTTT
ANYWAYS. So thus the adventure begins—Cosmos is handling this like a champ bc he’s been on the LL before so he knows the drill. Cosmos and Soundwave get to share a hab, Cosmos actually get to meet Ravage in person (gets called an idiot multiple times), and Soundwave gets to learn how to socialize with other mechs properly (it goes just as well as you’d expect). Cosmos and Tailgate bond very fast bc they’re very similar and minibots gotta stick together ykno? while Soundwave is struggling bc everyone here is weird and loud and so… friendly (it’s actually Cyclonus who manages to break down Soundwave’s very carefully put up barriers first. Antisocial losers stick together 4ever).
Megatron is also struggling bc he feels guilty for how he left things with Soundwave, but Soundwave is very adamant on hating his stupid guts.
Gradually, our favorite fellas learn about Cosmos and Soundwave yearning for eachother but being stupidly oblivious to the other’s feelings, and are now determined to get them together (led by yours truly, the minibot gang).
Shenanigans ensue, Soundwave figures out how to express himself and his feelings, Cosmos learns to dance, Megatron gets engex thrown at his face, and Ravage is so exasperated she might start scruffing these idiots like newsparks since they wanna act immature.
I’m actually super insane about this patchwork au I came up with I think about it near constantly. THANK YOU FOR THE ASK HEHEEHEEE I LOVE RAMBLING ABOUT MY HALF BAKED THOUGHTS EEHEEHEH❤️❤️🛸🛸🛸🛸
#soundwave and cyclonus bond over sitting in silence and hating galvatron (and megatron)#they get along quite well you wouldn’t believe#and ofc cosmos and tailgate are having the times of their lives#I just like the idea of cygate helping coswave figure themselves out ykno#I’m sick I’m sick#also ravage reunite with soundwave is very emotional bc soundwave misses his cassette so much#ravage cuddles up with soundwave the very first night and Soundwave gets a little emotional#bc he missed feeling the purr of her engine against his plating#and cosmos comes in after soundwave falls asleep and he almost screams cause ravage scared the piss outta him#GOD. GOD. IM INSANE#okay anyways#coswave#mtmte#idw transformers#soundwave#cosmos#transformers
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How would the DJD react to a lone carrier? Maybe the carrier is stuck on a another planet trying to negotiate with the local market for tickets or shanix to get home? Would they go feral or would they just only somewhat interested? What if the reason the carrier is stuck is because they got abandoned by their partner who is on The List and didn’t want to cross paths with the DJD so left them behind to save their own ass, that could be juicy…
(Tarn's dignity will always suffer with me, so he majorly fucks up because of regulations he inputted himself in the initial days of his gun-ho zeal to the Cause and Megatron's worldview.)
Camiens have a reputation for falling in love too fast and too hard, and like any blitzed and infatuated mechling swooning over their first love, you fell for the rugged outworlder. It was like a tale from a stupid romance holo, but instead of a deepening connection from constant hardship, you were left destitute on a planet that didn't need your expertise and a forge full of newsparks.
The mech was happy enough to frag you silly and more than content to have a ward manager to weld his wounds, but you warned the mech of your spark-lineage and its coding quirks and the mech still had the audacity to not only freak out at impending sirehood but to actually do a runner as well.
Apparently, death caught him before you could because the mech took all the damn credits and shanix with him.
Luckily the group that got Deadzone had a functioning ship to drop you off near Camnius at the low price of your ex-lover's T-cog.
And you delivered that T-cog, still warm and wet from his fritzing corpse into the leader's hand. Beautifully intact despite his smelted frame.
Nicket, their CMO, dragged you to her medbay before any of the mechs could do anything, and practically shoved the empty job posting into your nasal ridge while checking your progress.
"Let me get this straight," You rub your temples, trying to force the stress away when Nickel tells you the reason why she nor any of the other mechs can't help with your carriage. "Instead of being able to proposition any of the mecha here, I have to sleep with the one that finished off Deadzone?"
"Unfortunately true." The medic grouses as she wipes her servos with a rag and you close your panel. "Some idiot thought that the winners caring for the losers' mates in gladiatorial matches was romantic."
There's a story behind that and you're not sure if you want to find out. Instead, you focus on the important part. "And that idiot?"
"Tarn." Nickel says, flatly.
"And who got Deadzone?"
"Also Tarn."
You're stuck with the mech that has no idea what to do with you, so he defers to stiff, awkward politeness. Nickels notes your expression and offers full use of the medical supply closet to have a private meltdown inside of it.
Sometimes, being a ward manager does have its perks.
_______
Because Nickel memorized the schedules, you approach Tarn on his downtime and knock on his habsuite door to rip the patch off.
"Hello, Tarn, I'm here for donor services." You pray that Nickel had beaten into his head that carriers needed resources. Otherwise, his refusal will launch a rut-induced riot by your own activated heat-protocols.
The mech nods and steps into his habsuite and you follow the nonverbal permission.
"Would you like something to drink?" He asks, gesturing to a cabinet and a spare convertor.
"No, thank you." You're being awkwardly polite because Tarn is as well. Your sensory panels twitch, partly anxious, but mostly to check if there are hidden cameras in the room. You click your glossa, door wings twitch again, and it reads as clear.
You have no idea what kind of weird scrap he's into, but you didn't expect the tank to simply... lie down on his berth.
"Do what's necessary then." And he just lies there, staring into the ceiling as if it held the secrets to the galaxy.
Solus save your spark.
You take a deep inhale and exhale through your vents.
"Okay," you step forward and eye his pelvis. "I'm going to need you to open this-" you tap twice over the panel that covers the spike housing "-and pressurize. I need to know what I'm working with."
He follows your instructions to the glyph. And it's a very generous proportion to the mech, there are treads lining its sides, deep grooves underneath the shaft, and solidly purple with a fat node sitting beneath the crown.
It was also dry.
You reach for the extra lubricant bottle in your subspace and smear a hefty dollop across your palm and digits because you want to minimize friction burn since he's definitely the largest spike in your experience.
You grip it firmly, sliding up and down the underside as you thumb the tip, it weeps and it's a healthy bright pink hue with no detection of infection. You don't feel anything off with the texture that would have denoted hidden spines or a knot or an expansion mod. The plating does overlap to create subtle ribbing...
Your face may be impassive, but your valve eagerly wets itself in anticipation, it gnaws and you can feel the innermost calipers trying to set to their widest setting, and you blame the active carriage because you never had been so turned on by a silent handy on a mech that reads 'clean' to your diagnostic tools before.
You tell him that it's best that you ride him, and it's true. You don't voice that you're 99% percent sure he has no prior experience, but you did voice that Nickel would be displeased trying to repair valvular lining and mesh on a carrier with only one valve.
You straddle him, nudging him to your rim until it catches, so you hold him firm to sink down in slow increments. He's big. Your thighs strain with the painfully slow pace of sinking down, hitching up, and sinking down further to carefully pop the next rib into you that spreads you wider and wider until you feel like bursting from the fullness.
Tarn is not as unaffected as he projects, despite that air of neutrality you can feel the underlying hunger nipping at your field, see his digits claw into the berth, and feel that massive spike twitching hotly as you brush over sensors you didn't even know existed inside your frame. You keep your own spike shut with medical lockdowns because you have no idea if Tarn would tolerate that mess on him.
You finally meet his housing and it takes a good moment to acclimate, frame slick and already steaming from that effort. You set to slow grind, bracing on his chassis, biting your lower lip as that node slides over a cluster of nodes that sets your valve to spasm and ripple.
There's a familiar wetness at the back of your valve that makes your spinal struts shiver and sensory panels rapidly flick to disperse the sudden swell of charge.
"Did you just-" You strangle out the words because merciful Pits the mech is big, and heat bursts directly into your chamber putting you on edge.
Tarn, who hadn't uttered a single noise ever since you mounted him and still hasn't looked at you since lying down, then said, very quietly, "I'm sorry."
You're far away from home, fucking a beyond awkward stranger because of archaic bull-scrap of a rule since the mech that was nearly your Conjunx wasn't the person you thought he was.
Tears start to well in your optics and you blink rapidly to keep it away since Tarn actually makes contact with your face and gets a dipole-deer-in-the-headlights expression, even with the mask.
That stupid fucker was dead and you're still here seething over it.
Tarn had said, Do what's necessary. Well, this is damn well necessary.
You lift yourself off his spike and immediately turn around to face the door. Without a word, you seat yourself again by not-so-gently guiding him back into you. And it's easier this time, granted you ignore the jarring sensation between too much and please more.
You can deal with an awkward-as-the-Pits frag, but you will not tolerate that pity.
Because you're ridiculously wet and primed since carrier-coding is in an absolute tizzy over this spike, you viciously ride said spike at a brutal pace, clanging hard enough to leave bruises upon protoform, and ignoring the stretch in your valve, your vents practically wheeze with every drop that shoves Tarn to the back of your throat and leaves your insides quivering, unsure if it's from pleasure or overwhelmed by the sensation of taking a mech that's beyond your schematics.
Luckily it had an adjustment period, Tarn isn't thrusting upward, and nothing in your system is currently red-lining.
The tank doesn't say anything else, he doesn't even touch you. Instead, you hear something breaking in the room, but it isn't your frame and you can't bring yourself to care.
You keep the pace for the rest of the ordeal, annihilating your thoughts until it channels all of the urges to raise the dead back to life (just so you could personally gut Deadzone over and over) into getting the newsparks the transfluid they need. You can taste Energon in your mouth, bleeding down your intake, cooling fans roaring, and beneath the mad clanking, there's the audible noise of lubricant splattering out.
It's hard to say what burns harder, your frame and fuel lines or the hate boiling in your spark.
You keep it up even when your chamber bloats, heavy and hot, forcing your howling thighs and back through the onslaught, ozone thick with the Energon on your glossa as you speed and lose count of the overloads, and it isn't until Tarn's spike fully softens within your calipers' death grip do you finally stop.
And because you refuse to crash here in the mech's room, you don't pause to rest, you simply swing off of Tarn.
"Thank you and good night," you shout at the guy. Raging and hurt you may be, but you still have manners and Tarn did his duty to the damn regulations.
You hobble-stomp back to the med-bay, a wildfire as your spark, even as your pelvis throbs and joints scream to rest. Nickel takes one look at your face and immediately points to the supply closet. "I sent you the code."
You jam in the sequence and the moment the door shuts, you scream.
____________
:: Tarn, what did you do!? ::
:: Nothing. ::
:: I can tell. ::
#ask#transformers#the donor clause au#transformers idw#idw#mtmte#reader insert#cybertronian!reader#tarn#nickel#valveplug#pregnancy#bitlets#sparklings#cybertronian culture#cybertronian biology#maccadam#My writing#minor character death#the ever growing saga of tarn and his suffering that's self induced
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Transformers; Rescue Bots Heatwave x Human reader
(Crush Headcanons💞)
"How would Heatwave react to himself gaining a crush on a human?"
A/N: Oh wow it's me actually putting effort- I'm on the 2nd season of this show rn and, GIF isn't mine, credits go to the original creator.
Warnings: Fluff, Injuries, Mention of Death and Being Burned alive (It's towards the reader so be aware), and Minor Angst.
•When Heatwave realizes that he gained romantic feelings for you, he becomes such a tsundere. He does and is in so much denial about his emotions.
•Kade is not helping, once he finds out that he has a crush on you. He will not hesitate to tease him.
"So Heatwave, you got a crush on someone on this team?" Kade asks the Red mech teasingly with a grin on his face. "Shut up Kade!" Heatwave replies harshly, but with a little tint of Energon-blush on his faceplates.
•If you're a rescuer on the team, you notice that Heatwave is being more protective over you than he usually is.
•If you get injured or almost died while saving someone, he'll yell at you, not pleased with you for being reckless and irresponsible.
"(Name)! Are you being an idiot!? You ran into the fire and almost burned yourself alive!"
•But if you just stay in the Firehouse with Cody, he feels relief that you won't be hurt by any potential threats.
•However, if you're stubborn he's not happy and would seem way too overprotective.
•Like- if the Rescue bots and the Burns family are in danger and your order is to stay back and not interfere until more instructions are given, but you decided to save them yourself?
•Yeah, be prepared to get another loud and brash scolding from the bot.
•He doesn't mean to be so hot-tempered and rude. It's just that Heatwave is just not the best at with dealing his emotions.
•Especially that fact he's a huge alien robot and you're a small fragile tiny human makes him resent his emotions. He might accidentally wound you and will feel guilty for it.
•So if you want to start a relationship with Heatwave, you have to be the one to make the first move, because again, he's not well with dealing with his feelings.
•At first he'd reject your affections and flirts with him while still being a bit of a meanie to you, but slowly Heatwave becomes quiet and would just turn his helm and say a simple "ok" while slightly blushing.
•It starts a bit rocky if you want to become his significant other, but over time he would let himself become close to you.
•When the both of you have free time, start a conversation or chat with him, and, praise him. It makes Heatwave glad that you appreciate and care for him greatly even if he's not expressing it freely <3
•Just being and seeing you every day with Heatwave already makes him feel happy with you, sometimes when you talk with him, and it becomes deep he'd offer his rare smile to you while you do the same thing <3
Kade in the back: HEY! YOU TWO SHOULD KISS!
#transformers#transformers x reader#transformers rescue bots#transformers rescue bots x reader#transformers rb#transformers rb x reader#rb#rb x reader#rescue bots x reader#rescue bots#tf x reader#heatwave#transformers heatwave#heatwave x reader#rb heatwave#rescue bots heatwave x reader#rb heatwave x reader#transformers heatwave x reader#x reader#x human reader#transformers imagine#imagine#transformers headcanon#headcanon#robot x human#maccadam
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Okay but drift going back in time through some mishap and telling himself "I'm not going to do anything to influence the timeline again" and then he sees a young college student ratchet flirting with another mech and throws the whole thing out the window
Maybe they are at a shady bar, drift went to make sure he stayed out of the way of his past self and ratchet went with a bunch of classmates for their first pub crawl. Of course he's not going to refuse a drink from the hot older guy at the bar. He doesn't even notice the way drift scares off his classmates until it's just the two of them.
He does notice when he gets up to leave, much drunker than when he sat down, and drift drags him over to a corner and bends him over a stool. It's not even a dark corner, the whole bar can see them as Drift takes Ratchets seals and fucks him full of transfluid. Maybe that's where the party ambulance rumors start, as half ratchets class watch him moan like a whore for a mech he just met and doesn't even know the name of 🐢
hghhhh that's exactly what i meant by Drift catching a possessive streak over seeing young Ratchet… he knows they haven't met yet and they're not conjuxed, but seeing him get flirted with immediately made him forget his promise to not mess with the time-line. It's just that… Ratchet’s getting flirted with by some life-less, idiot student that cannot possibly become Ratchet's first… No, Drift won't allow it, he can't allow it. Ratchet deserves to have his seals broken by a good spike, an experienced spike, a spike that knows his internal nodes inside and out. He ends up chasing away the guy and cannot stop himself from offering Ratchet a drink… they chat for a while and Ratchet keeps getting more and more buzzed and his friends have disappeared to the other end of the bar, conflicted about the scary older guy that's currently getting closer and closer to Ratchet… but Ratchet doesn't seem to need any help, in fact he appears to be enjoying himself, putting his hands on the older mech, shimmying closer to him in turn, arching into every touch, generally being a giant flirt for a guy that has yet to tell him his name...
Drift getting Ratchet, now stumbling and a little drunk, into a corner and shoving his spike into that tight, virginal heat, feeling Ratchet's seal snap when he pushes in. Ratchet whining and whimpering, drawing curious optics towards their little corner of heaven as he has his first proper overload, legs quivering so much he doesn't think he can stand for much longer… His classmates then spend the entire semester talking about the Party Ambulance that lets just about anyone have a turn on his holes <3
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“hey since i’ve screwed someone in practically all of my movie sets does that make me mr. international love y—” “shut the fuck up, Cage”
i’m working on a kenshi, i swear i am, have this for now
#they’re in love your honor#mech’s being an idiot again#johnshi#johnny cage#kenshi takahashi#art by mech
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Trafalgar Law x Reader: Medicine
Warning: mentions diabetes, an incorrect dose of medicine, and sickness.
You felt ill since starting your new medication. You had the common symptoms like nausea, stomachache, and headaches. You have been taking injections for the past three days to help lower your blood sugar “You ok y/n?” Penguin asked. You look up and say “Oh yeah it's just my medicine”. “You know if this gets worse then you should see the captain”. He replied.
“No, it's fine there common side effects,” you said back. You had an issue with diabetes for a while and starting these injections was supposed to help. You read the instructions and injected the medicine as you needed. You didn't want to bother your captain with this issue. Law knows about your condition but doesn't control your medicine as you asked.
But you still felt sick after 3 days.
“Everyone, we are heading to shore to get supplies,” Law said. You finished your duties and got ready to drop anchor. The island was a cozy place with small shops and restaurants.
You and Law decided to spend some time looking around together.
He was hoping to find some medical books and Sora mech. You were looking for some crafts to do during your free time. While looking around you started to feel weird almost lightheaded. “Wha-” before you could say anything else you blacked out. “Y/n did you find what you wanted?” Law said heading back to you.
Seeing you on the ground, he rushed over trying to wake you up. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!!!” he said panicked. When you didn't wake up, he picked you up and ran back to the ship. “Hey, why is the captain holding y/n?” Bepo asked watching you two. You woke up in a bed with an IV bag attached to you.
“What happened?” you asked. “You passed out,” Law said sitting next to you. “I don't know what happened,” you said. “Have you been taking your medication?” Law said “Yeah, as I was told” you replied.
“I’ve been taking it for 3 days now,” you said. “Wait-, 3 DAYS!!!” he shouted angrily.
You were scared by his outburst not knowing what you did wrong. “YOU IDIOT, THE MEDICINE IS SUPPOSED TO BE TAKEN ONCE A WEEK” he yelled. When he said that you realized what happened and why you passed out.
“Do you realize you could die from injecting too much?” he said angrily. You had misread the instructions leading to unconsciousness. You were an idiot and nearly lost your life. “I'm sorry” was all you could say before Law left the room angry. You sat in bed thinking about the trouble you caused after being reckless.
“Hey y/n, I'm here to give you some food,” Bepo said. “Thank you,” you said softly. “Bepo, I screw up badly and now Law hates me,” you said sadly. “Captain doesn't hate you he was just scared something bad happened to you,” Bepo said back. “Captain worries about you out of love”. He added.
“This is the one thing I didn't want to happen.” “I took the medicine by myself so that I wouldn’t be in the way of the captain’s duties”. You explained. “You still should have asked him to help, something worse could have happened to you.” Bepo finished. You ate trying to increase your blood sugar to prevent hypoglycemia. “I'm going to found Law,” you said getting out of bed.
You headed to your shared room and knocked on the door. “Law, can I come in?” you asked. There was silence until you heard “yes”. You open the door and see Law sitting on your shared bed. You sat next to him on the bed and said “I'm sorry for my mistake”.
“You have died,” he said back. “I could have lost you” he added. You felt horrible at the thought of leaving Law behind due to your stupidity. You hug him wanting to make him feel better even those you were the one sick. “I promise to never be reckless again with my health,” you said.
There was a bit of silence until Law spoke up and said “Next time come to me when you take your medication so this doesn't happen again.” Law said upset. “I will” you replied in his arms. It is going to be a long week for you but as long as Law is there for support things will get better.
#one piece x reader#trafalgar one piece#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar d law x reader#one piece#heart pirates
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@blazeismyname @rocksanddeadflowers I'm back to feed the fires :)
thoughts with the big things:::::
ough toy soldier fight on the roof... it isn't until it's hurt Marius and he's begging for it to stop that it snaps out of it's rage... it was just doing what it was ordered to, it was doing what it was GOOD AT, and it hurt it's friend, it thought it was protecting him and it hurt it's friend
lyf trying to figure out brian. no other comments.
Marius finds out how ts got it's new voice
smitten idiot, Marius's old arm on the mantle, and ivy being sad she doesn't have opposable thumbs.
another ivy, tried to base it off her actual face but idk how I did, I'm not good at basing drawings off actual people. god she's pretty though. also shout-out to Bernadette banner for being the reason I know most of what I do about historical fashion even if I haven't used that knowledge much in this au (how do you balance historical accuracy, timeline nonspecifity, and immortal space pirate outfits??)
they're being run out of town, no time for questions!!!
I haven't drawn beast jonny enough have i. I need to fix that.
Tim teasing lyf about their boytoy (ignore the empty space I beg of you I was going to put SOMETHING there and I forgot what)
Brian being an icon "take a piss, fuck boy." mama didn't raise a bitch.
another of lyf trying to figure out brian (post curse version j guess, making a clock emote is tricky ok?)
ts and Marius cuddles, I think Marius has phantom pains the worst out of all the mechs in canon and I'm putting that in the au because I want to.
gardening lyf!!!!! I love that we've decided the garden is a safe space for them, they probably walk the grounds at night when they can't sleep and scare whatever castle staff is working at night because fae lyf seems like they should have glow in the dark eyes
and the carmilla meeting nastya doodle again :) I love them so much, amazing 10/10 mama daughter duo
#ebb rambles#the mechanisms#the consequences of creation and love#brain is not super functional rn so I don't have much more to add lol#wait shit did we say “piss off fuck boy” or “take a piss fuck boy” i cant remember#ebb draws stuff
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It’s only a year late, Anon, but I hope you find and enjoy this, because I ✨LOVED 💖this request. I really hyperfixated on Optimus being appreciated for once (and being doted on, respectfully). Thank you for making it, you are so good and wonderful for this ask💕 (((I FORGOT TO HIT ANSWER WHEN I POSTED THIS EJWKWKKEKEME, OH MY LORD)))
As a PSA to all the readers, this got WAY out of hand and somehow ended up being monstrously long AGAIN, so-
⭕️ BEWARE THE READ MORE⭕️
(Go to my page and open it there so you aren’t stuck ruining your dashboard and can leave the fic easier)
Warnings in the tags💕
——————————————-
On a painfully uneventful evening such as this, stuck in a room with bots old and frail enough to evaporate into thin air from the weight of their air headed blather, Megatron was looking forward to doing some private reading later- someplace far away from this mockery of a court with all its prejudice.
This was how the Autobots did things? No wonder nothing ever got done- If Decepticons took this long talking in circles, talking at all, they would have been beaten back by their enemy faction by a sly, cunning leader, too, by now.
Megatron resisted sighing outwardly.
Reading would be such a sweet consolation for having to sit through these nearsighted windbags running their mouths all cycle. If only he could be certain he could survive this with half a processor in tact.
Besides Ultra Magnus’ obsession with flight tariffs in civil frame cities driving Megatron to a powerful processor ache, there was also the matter of this proud, little idiot stood here before him- so enveloped in his own heedless jargon it was threatening to dull Megatron’s logic center, if nobody put a stop to his rambling.
This one’s ego was much too big for him, continuously having to make himself known. He, Sentinel Prime, shouldn’t even be here.
And then the other mech so abysmally out of his depths here -Optimus Prime- was only here at all, because he’d been crowned a hero for having offered these council mechs Megatron’s head on a platter some months ago. Too bad he’d left it attached to the rest of him- Megatron would make sure the Prime would come to regret it by the end of these ‘negotiations’.
If he somehow hadn’t already, constantly being tortured by Megatron instigating his dear, precious Magnus from across the court.
Judging by the exasperated glare Prime sent Megatron’s way every few arguments, and Megatron purposely ignoring his very existence, it was only a matter of time before Optimus caved and would have to excuse himself to collect the necessary patience. And Megatron would watch him go with a smirk, thinking how it was all too bad the little firetruck couldn’t be helped to finally learn his place in this big mech world -far bigger than him- and spare himself this misery.
There was much to be ungrateful for during these sessions, and yet still, probably the most enraging offense on Megatron’s person of all -even keeping company like this, with council mechs considering his rights as casually as if they were discussing the weather- was that the very same bot who’d made a fool of him and delivered him in stasis cuffs to the Auotbot’s mercy kept injecting himself into matters too important for him… on Megatron’s behalf.
Defending a (capable) nefarious warlord in front of the masses like an absolute martyr.
At least so when something truly as appalling as treatment for ground sickness in civilian spaces was disregarded as a priority, and not considered a sanity-threatening emergency, was suggested. Proving that Optimus Prime might be the first Autobot to possess a modicum of honor.
Suggestions as flippant as that quickly became few and far between, as Optimus’ constant pestering was driving everyone up the wall- every Autobot quietly disgusted by the notion of rights for war mechs, anyway. Which appeared to be the entire panel in Megatron’s only slightly biased opinion, as he was sat here before them.
Optimus paid them no mind- had started out quiet and humble, so uncertain of his place here. Appropriately so, if you asked Megatron. But Primus had he found it when Sentinel had suggested ‘docked wings’ on Decepticons who broke the new laws…
“I wasn’t talking first time offenders!” The plow tried to correct, like that wouldn’t burn a hole through Optimus all the same from the sheer, righteous indignity of it.
Optimus, who was rarely ever sat with his aft properly in his podium seat and spent much of the deliberation bouncing around on his pedes, pointing fingers and making wild gestures the more his patience thinned, met his limit then.
“We will never modify their frames in any nonconsensual way, Sentinel! Primus, what is wrong with you!?”
Megatron could answer that question for the little firetruck. These out of touch bigots were terrified of him -despite their proud, ‘fearless Autobot’ front.
They were scared of Megatron and the other war machines, and they’d be wise to hold strong to those insecurities, lest they have anymore ideas of a faction wide extermination that would ascend into yet another eternal war.
It’d be the same subject matter, at least.
Sometimes, it became exhausting keeping up with of all the atrocities that’d transpired between them over the years, and he’d rather like to keep his thumb between the pages, holding his place for when this treaty inevitably fell through and he had to pick up right where he’d left off. Somewhere around escaping prison thanks to idiot, imposter Magnuses to come skewer the real one.
Even now that things had become slightly more progressive -given they Autobots had been forced to concede to him- there was still the odd daydream of his of striking Magnus from off of his throne. Most recently for making him sign documentation of all the war mech’s in his faction under an ominously familiar act to keep designations on close hand.
How…uncanny.
In fact, Megatron had signed it purely out of his own shock and amusement to see if Ultra Magnus would realize what it was he was resurrecting from the dark depths of their shared history by demanding such a thing.
‘To keep record of everyone entering into the new era of peace accounted for’.
Well, then. How convenient an excuse. Clearly, Megatron wasn’t the only one without a single hope for their unification.
In support of that depressing thought, Ultra Magnus had said little to protest or encourage what his council mechs were offering -pushing- other than when he was strictly needed to make great speeches to quiet Megatron’s kin of their outrage. Often just sat there staring listlessly out over the chaos of council members and Decepticon high command at Megatron’s back, ranting and raving over one another. Looking more and more forlorn, more and more distant.
He must have walked into this as sure as the Earth’s sun that this would be a lost cause. He’d only bothered placating any of this, because the other option was simply to concede and die…
Megatron, to be contrary -despite his own doubts in this movement- was becoming more irritated that Magnus expected him to be such a lost cause. These talks of merging their species a chore and an impossible one…
That Optimus was spurred on all the more by Ultra Magnus’ silence, trying to take the reigns in an effort to lead the others with his boundless, pitiful optimism towards the notion that there was any value to them fighting for this forsaken, ideological future was perhaps a tiny bit comforting. It was, after all, Megatron’s only real source of entertainment during these talks, as Strika had insisted on presenting herself seriously, unwilling to make small talk while Autobot bureaucrats were speaking.
Useless. This was all wasted time, Megatron was sure of it… As sure as Magnus…
Somehow still, he managed to weather an entire cycle more of this undignified dressing down of his rights and quickly stood, eager to push his way out of the chambers first before he could be tethered to another post council scourge where the Autobots fought amongst themselves to push their own opinions upon an absent Decepticon faction. Too self-indulged to realize the underhandedness of such a thing.
Perhaps he should reconsider killing them during another of Magnus’ speeches instead. For the sake of dramatics and some much needed entertainment.
On this particular exhausting cycle, though, Optimus Prime -absolutely fuming- seemed to have the same idea as him about being the first one out of the Council’s logic leeching vacuum. That he was the main cause of said scourging amongst his leaders and peers -and Sentinel, the instigator- allowed Megatron a moment of calm to slow his steps some ways behind him and enjoy the sight of one puffed up Prime getting exactly what he deserved for bringing Megatron onto this cursed planet with a functioning sparkbeat.
He looked ready to kick Sentinel’s podium on the way out, if he were the type of mech to lose his temper Lin such a way.
Megatron remembered the trip back to Cybertron being not at all how he’d imagined it. Beaten, torn to pieces, and struggling to vent, Megatron had seen a fair glimpse of the kind of mech Optimus Prime really was when battle and desperation weren’t marring his processor.
He couldn’t say he was impressed with a bot with such… he was just so… Optimus was so…
The only way Megatron could describe the humiliating -though enlightening- encounter without sacrificing his ego was to simply say that he hadn’t the opportunity to meet an Autobot Elite as unexpectedly humble and sincere as Optimus Prime before.
How embarrassing to have been beaten by such a bleeding spark…
The little mech cared about… everything. And he cared too much.
Unfortunately, the effort he put into it was quite misplaced. If he could only have the foresight to see who his genuine nature was being expended upon, who was taking advantage of it, he’d have turned to the Decepticon’s for guidance and a purpose.
Not that Megatron wanted him there.
Megatron gave a huff and removed himself from those thoughts, lest he provoke the unfortunate memories that’d came with them -stuck at the mercy of what he’d just discovered at the time to be a Primus forsaken maintenance bot, serving him back his own aft like he’d been doing it for centuries prior.
The discovery had been too humiliating too bare…
His little consolation for everything the Prime had put him through on Earth was that he was still a nobody here. He was spoken over, talked down to by Ultra Magnus on occasion, and largely ignored. Which is what Megatron intended to do himself for the rest of this pretend peace he was forced to serve under.
Pretend Optimus Prime was a bot without an ounce of worth behind his false title, something to be forgotten in the history of Megatron’s millions of years of fortitude and success.
And as he looked down at his retreating figure, hustling towards the doors to rid himself the indignity of todays events, Megatron knew in his spark that this would be the most he’d ever spare in acknowledging the Prime- only enough to delight in his suffering.
He could survive these sessions with that in mind, if it could only have stayed true.
“They don’t seem to know what’s good for them.” The Decepticon, a jet, said blithely. He was standing guard by the entrance on the Decepticon’s floor. That Optimus didn’t bother with his faction’s floor in a means to get out of there sooner was another odd consolation for Megatron against the withering glares from the council mech’s at the tiny fool’s backstrut.
Optimus didn’t seem to pay this mech any mind either.
“No, they don’t.” He snapped back at him, without a single glance at the jet. And yet, there was something there in his tone Megatron couldn’t quite place when he heard it -nor cared to- as he lazily followed behind him.
In the split second the jet had to respond before Optimus was good and gone, stomping and storming off as fearsomely as any ‘Con about triple his size, the guard tilted his helm his way to try and extend the last few moments they had.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Prime.”
To Megatron’s confusion, Optimus stopped. His shoulders losing some of their tension as his helm fell back on a sigh.
“Sorry… I’ll try... And Thanks.”
The jet smiled at him, and from this angle, Megatron could just make out the corner of Optimus’ lip plates tilting upward, returning it.
‘Familiarity’… That’s what it was.
———————————————-
Boredom was about Megatron’s only motivator to look into the odd spectacle he’d witnessed. Waiting for the council room to fill and the doors to close, preparing for another arduous cycle of negotiations, Megatron leant back in his chair, hardly built for his massive size as it was, and hissed nasally into Strika’s audial.
“Who is that?” He cut his optics over at the chipper looking jet.
How dare he not be sharing in Megatron’s crushing despair for having to be here.
“Jou know who jour mechs are.” Strika answered back.
Megatron considered the mech a moment. He was silver and rather tall for a jet. A sleek frame with black indentations up the underside of each wings- one of his more noticeable features. One a Decepticon might think attractive with its cutting edges and sharp angles.
Megatron certainly did know him, granted he’d gone through several reformations since joining the cause.
He tried to remember why.
This jet proved significantly more capable of handling injuries than most other winged mechs of his slender, shorter stature. He’d seen some extensive upgrades, and if Megatron was correct, had managed to deserve each and every one of them under his field commander’s favor.
Oh, right- and Starscream hated him. Pretty to look at, easy to grab, obedient and a good listener, as well as a good fighter. Of course Megatron would have agreed to special treatment like reformations for a mech like that, so long as he was sure Starscream would wind up jealous and bitter about it.
Considering his near civil mech size, this one was a powerhouse -and a good choice for their chamber room guard post then. Not that Megatron could believe a room full of even the most capable Autobot warriors could subdue him without the jet‘s aid.
But that image conjured up another one- the memory of this jet streaking across a scarlet sky with Energon dripping from his wingtips. A splash of it falling down and momentarily blinding Megatron’s opponent before he’d decapitated them.
Saberswipe, Megatron finally recalled. A winged mech who dissected enemies using a unique blend of speed and force. How fitting then.
Megatron didn’t like him…
“He vants to frag Prime.” Said Strika, then. Unnecessarily.
Megatron cuts his optics at her next.
“Maybe he wouldn’t be such an unbearable pain then.” He said rather stuffily.
“Optimus Prime has too much time on his servos to be as meddlesome as he is. He needs a hobby.”
“Like fragging a flighty, pint sized jet?”
“Like fragging himself, more like.” Megatron scoffed, then surveyed the platforms opposite him, looking for said nuisance to come and claim his seat soon, and the pestering to begin.
“Vatch your mouth.” Strika snarled into his audial, immediately drawing Megatron’s attention back.
He looked at her, slack jawed and optic ridge pinched. Completely offended by her outburst. She didn’t look the least bit repentant.
In fact, as war frames often did with one another, she stared him right back in the optics, challenging him. Her permanent frown somehow impressively deepening.
Megatron’s processor slowed to a tick.
“What was that, General?” He ground out, finally grasping that one of his subordinates had just had the gall to openly disrespect him in such a way.
The tank leaned into him, drawing a curious glance from the old and foolish Trion who frequently attempted to keep tabs on the Decepticon board from across the way. Looking terribly unsubtle about it, too.
“Vatch what jou say about Prime.” Strika rumbled.“He does not deserve jour ridicule, too.”
Nearly lost for words in one debilitating moment of insanity, Megatron needed time for his processor to climb back up to a functional rhythm.
Strika’s gaze did not waver, shockingly. Staring him down with all the confidence and reassertion she only ever expended defending the honor of her delusional mate, Lugnut.
Which this was….. odd…
“He deserves every ounce of it.” Megatron said slowly, gobsmacked. Because had Strika forgotten how they’d gotten themselves here?
Had she forgotten how her suddenly precious little Prime had gotten him here?
“He is the reason we are being forced to kneel to the Autobot’s.”
“He is za reason we may all have a chance at peace, finally. He is za reason zese negotiations have gone on for as long as zhey have vithout falling through.”
“Because he won’t stop inserting himself-“
“Which is the reason we’ve had a voice for ourselves on that half of the chamber.”
Megatron felt a very childish rebuttal coming up any second now.
“We are strong enough to be our own voices!”
They’d had to be for lifetimes now.
Where had it gotten them, though?
“They von’t listen to us.” Strika said simply. Obviously.
They both already knew, despite how much it pained Megatron to think he was worth so little respect from even Ultra Magnus these days as to be heard, when he had gone and conquered worlds. Had posed as the single most monstrous threat to Autobot society for generations.
“Prime is making zem listen.” Strika reinforced, a tad more gentler. Which was worse than her disrespect.
Megatron felt the tension in his shoulder joints loosen, defeated yet again by Strika’s superior logic unit. One reason she made such a brilliant general, and did just a good enough job to help him remember his own place in things.
Help him remember his undoubtable greatness and value as a warrior and intelligent mind still weren’t enough to sway the narrow minds and bigoted forces of the Autobot Commonwealth. She was just objective enough to understand her loyalty for her master wouldn’t translate for some- for many. And she was right -had probably saved these negotiations countless times without him even knowing- to help him see that for himself.
He’d be feeding her her spike for it later.
“It shouldn’t be that way…” He huffed, all but pouting like the 14 million year old warlord he was for anyone tracking the conversation in the room to see.
“I agree- and he doesn’t zink so, either.“ Strika said, turning back to face the finally full room with her optics settling over the little Prime, entranced in his own tireless note taking.
“How fortunate are we, zhen to have a such a find listener? Zhat isn’t a question, by ze way. Now shut up and vatch.”
The session began as it always did- with the little red Bumblebee lookalike announcing the designations of all parties present and then the article of debate. In today’s case, it was about the mythical Decepticon housing distribution problem.
Optimus’ finials pricked up in interest, readying himself to take a stand.
Megatron turned away.
“You hate peace, Strika.” He said mournfully. His servos crossed over his chest, as he stared over at Saberswipe diligently standing guard. His optics also settled heavily over the brightly colored Prime. But he was only safe place in the room at the moment for Megatron to rest his optics.
Megatron was always happiest with his processor busy plotting, and he had much to think about when he set his optics on the tall, agile jet.
—————————
Despite feeling like a part time prisoner still, which was somewhat true, Megatron was glad to spend a cycle outside of that court of self-aggrandizing windbags, and in the beautiful plated streets of the lovely Iacon City for a change. Standing in the place he’d once stood millennia ago, screaming at the top of his voice box until his synthesizer was stripped raw for the helm of the mech who’d signed the miner outpost off and left him and his kin an empty future.
He remembered his fellow war mech’s at his back, looking to him -the bravest of the lot- to get them answers. To take it from the first senator to get down off his high podium and face them all. Having finally reached a point in his life where he was willing to throw his life away, if that was what it would take to be heard.
Civil frames avoided him, splitting perfectly down the middle as they went, trying to avoid him. Dodging eye contact, apologizing for having to pass by him at all- those who didn’t cross the street entirely.
One such mech was not so cowed by his domineering, gravely presence on their clean, shiny streets.
“Hiya, Megatron. You’re needed in the chambers today.”
Megatron looked the large, green swat van over. Twice. Wondering when and where he had gotten the audacity.
“Are you an errand boy, now?” He jabbed, looking for a weak spot in Optimus’ most even tempered, well adjusted ex-crew mate.
“Nope. Just doin’ Prime a favor. He, uh, wanted to discuss the housing issue some more the other day, but Ultra Magnus said it’d need to be done in an official setting. You’re the other faction leader, sooo… y’know.”
So one of Optimus’ post meeting scourges had pushed enough frayed nerves to get itself a platform.
Megatron was not about to subject himself to Optimus -an Autobot- openly condemning Megatron’s -an actual Decepticon- insistence that Decepticons did not need the ‘frivolities’ that civil types did in their hypothetical habsuites, and that he was ‘thinking like a pampered little civil frame’ when he had insisted each Decepticon be given a balcony and sky view for easy take off.
Optimus did not know what Decepticons needed, Megatron -a Decepticon- obviously did. Why hadn’t he left it alone? Why did he always have to go behind his backstrut?
Because he knew having one less oppressive opinion of Optimus’ place there in the room would be enough to force himself to be heard?
And if he was as great as Strika (confusingly, peculiarly, horrifically) had said, then he would know they ‘needed’ an open, more communal space for their habitats. Once, when he’d cared to hear it, Megatron had recalled somebot saying that seekers didn’t do so well when separated, and seekers made up a large part of his flyers.
Which speaking of-
“That is why Starscream exists.” Megatron glowered at Bulkhead.
Yes, Starscream was here as his no good, useless second in command. It’d been torture having to reinstate that rank at the start of this jumbled negotiation mess.
Bulkhead only shrugged.
“She didn’t show up.”
Megatron sighed, palm coming up to cover his forehelm.
He did love his cycles away from the council room, as their newest instrument of torture -them opening their mouths- too much for his poor, weathered spark.
But today was not his day to indulge.
He turned away and left Bulkhead standing there, shrugging off the taller mech’s awful attitude -used to Prowl’s and Bumblebee’s- and marched himself away from the council chambers. He took flight in the middle of a crowded city of startled grounders and off towards the Nemesis’ docking bay, stationed in the vacant hollow of the once prosperous Kaon, where it was sat idly. His poor ship.
On a day like this, where Starscream had been summoned to preform and had unsurprisingly failed again to do so, the useless seeker would no doubt be hiding away in the command quarters, rather than out enjoying the city skylights from the shuttle ports. Lazing about precarious platforms and swinging a pede over an edge into the open air, enjoying herself.
She’d be smart enough to know with that alarming sixth sense of her that Megatron would be out looking for her today. Looking to tear off some wingstruts.
Decepticons cleared the way as their thunderous leader landed and stomped his way up the deck, much like the civil frames had in the Iacon Plaza.
Megatron was marginally saddened to find Starscream hadn’t taken the opportunity of his absence to claim ownership of his throne and do all her sulking there, as he always felt it was a bit instigative of him to shred the seeker to pieces when she hadn’t gone and stupidly earned it.
When he finally found her huddled in on herself in a bulkhead, he had to forced his claws to retract.
She stood there, facing away from the quiet commotion of the bridge with her servos crossed, staring at the floor with a scowl. Processor deep in conniving thought.
Some threatening on Megatron’s part was still in order, at least.
“Get… your scrap metal wings… your lazy skidplate… down to the council chambers!” Megatron roared, startling the seeker out of her trance, as she spun around to access the danger she was in.
Megatron stood before her, towering and menacing, impossible to make out the expression of in the lightless war ship. Though she did catch the distinct glint of fanged denta baring themselves from the glow of monitor stations.
“Now.” Megatron rasped, pointing for target enhanced optics to see at the vague location of the Autobot Council Chambers. Miles and miles away.
After a moment looking him over, frown stuck to her faceplates, Starscream immediately assumed her usual dramatics, ‘scrap metal wings’ challenging Megatron in a high arch.
“Never,” She hissed back, baring her own sharp denta. Already protesting against his authority and he’d only just gotten there.
Megatron, finally having been able to get some fresh air in his vents away from the horrid hell hole Prime was trying to shove him back into, was able to find the strength to summon his ire over his exhaustion.
His optics glowed dangerously as his plating ruffled. Making his already impressive frame seem somehow bigger.
“Starscream. Go. At. Once.”
Starscream still was not cowed. Curiously. Worryingly.
She brought her claws out to her sides, extending them, readying for the first strike.
“No…”
Megatron was only slightly surprised to see how affected his selfish, self-absorbed seeker was by attending the lengthy meetings of Autobot jargon that did little, if anything, to center themselves around her haughty presence there. Because of course she wouldn’t want to whittle her time away there, it was never about her.
It was always about Megatron and his great presence and incredible intellect. His ability to have every last one of the sniveling Autobots wiped clean as a species, should they cross him. Starscream could never stand being overshadowed by his-
“I’m not going back there!” She screeched at him.
Megatron reached for a sheathed sword he wore in purposeful protest of Magnus’ law forbidding war frame’s of dawning weapons in the presence of civil mechs, as it hadn’t yet been set into motion.
But then her words suddenly clicked.
“What do you mean, ‘go back there’? You’ve been excluded from sessions while in my company… Because I barred you.”
Lord, had he.
“I barred myself, when you wouldn’t stop gloating about ridiculous, ancient, irrelevant history!” Starscream countered, giving Megatron a sudden and strange feeling that reason was a fallacy.
“Nobody cares how you handled the pre-faction Destrons- or how ‘great you are’ at leading a washed out, embarrassment of an ex-faction! It doesn’t make you a good leader, it doesn’t mean you deserve anyone’s respect! Especially not mine!”
Megatron’s optic twitched.
AllSpark, give him strength.
“Your presence has not been requested or necessary for a decacycle, Starscream. I’ve been handling everything- this was my one cycle away from their pointless rambling-“
“That’s what you think!” Starscream said snidel. Igniting equal parts worry and confusion in Megatron’s fuel tank.
Because she had better not been stepping a single heeled thruster into that fucking joke of a council of theirs, or else he’d-
“You don’t care about the needs of streamlined frames, you know! I have to be there!”
Megatron blinked his confusion, but he made sense of things rather quickly.
“You mean you and your clones?”
“Yes!” Starscream instantly recognized which insufferable tone Megatron was using on her.
“Obviously, you old fool!”
“Starscream-!”
“I have a skeletal scaffold to pick with them, too, you know!” Starscream flittered her wings in agitation, ignoring whatever danger she was in and rambling over him.
“You may not have the spacial awareness to see it for yourself, but I’m in there plenty! You never think to address the feuling crisis for streamlined frames! The clone seekers have varying needs, we aren’t genetically identical, or have you somehow overlooked Skywarp’s built in warpdrive?! What about Thundercracker’s sonic boom?!”
Thundercracker’s what…?
Oh, Primus.
“They are seekers of my own making,” Starscream screeched so loud, the nearest star outside the viewport flickered, hearing her call.
“They’re not… not thoughtfulness productions and weapons!”
Megatron’s lip curled.
“Your missing spark is an enigma. Who would bother learning every special delicate need your radiated, mutated miscreants require in order to find their shoddy, miserable existence in this world like the rest of us?”
“Optimus Prime would.” Starscream muttered more to herself, rolling her optics.
Megatron’s look of disgust was quickly wiped from his faceplate. Confusion and -oddly- betrayal took its place, as he searched Starscream’s frowning face for answers he dared not ask for.
Starscream looked conflicted as well- beneath the prevalent, thick layer of spite, anyway- and conceded to an explanation.
“He’s working to reduce the classification the clone seekers are subjected to- the Auotbots think they function like workerbots…” Starscream’s derma twisted up at the thought of those nameless mechs, existing without identities, being compared to her wild, wayward clone brothers.
Megatron very consciously chose not to feel anything when he noticed those bots slinking around, doing typical maintenance work and looking unnervingly devoid of a processor.
“That little Earth Prime,” Starscream’s wing flicked.
“He’s taking note of my seekers, what they each need to survive here, how much they need. He isn’t just throwing them together and hoping the new laws and resources sort them all out- that’d be like throwing me and Bonecrusher into a blind conjunxing so you could be done with me.” She shivered violently at the thought.
“He knows the clones aren’t inherently compatible with one another… we’re… that we’re… different people. You know?”
Starscream pulled a face.
“Maybe you don’t know... It’s all a wasted effort anyway. Like you, no one seems to care long enough to learn even the most basic needs of our individual maintenance.”
Starscream shuttered her optics and balled her servos up.
“No one cares to know. Starscream will slip her way out of any mess, but what happens when the mess is about to become your only option to a better future? It’s this or live with nothing in a stockade underground somewhere…”
Starscream was sounding eerily alike she was trying to stave off a watery edge to her vocalizer. Looking away to hide her despair.
Megatron would admit he hadn’t been aware of the existence of this issue -stood there dumbstruck into silence- but it made some molecule of sense to him.
Shockwave had said something about environments and Energon sources as being large factors in issues with accurate cloning. The crazed and unethical servos of their scientist inventors didn’t help with that either, Megatron imagined.
….As they had seen all of such with Toxitron and Nemesis.
Despite Optimus’ stilted, but eventually genuine welcome of the two newest Decepticons into his existentially horrified life, they were both problems for another day. And thankfully, too, ones Optimus was willing to tackle. Seemingly feeling responsible for their creation in some nonsensical way.
Which was also good for him, as Megatron did not want to have to deal with another argument about his inexcusable, abhorrent lack of ethics from Ultra Magnus after what he himself had approved to have happen to the young, susceptible jet twins.
But for now, he was far too tired to deal with anymore insufferable self-doubt, and waved a single servo towards the exit while his other clutched at his aching helm.
“Just go, Starscream. You are needed- do your one and only job.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” She shrieked, energy boundless.
“I’m not going back!”
Megatron tried to ignore the terrified mechs typing away at their monitor stations, fields all buzzing with nerves at their two temperamental commanders’ increasingly passionate spat.
Then the sharp edge of Starscream’s wings spreading out wide at her back brought his attention to the suddenly conflicted looking faceplate of his dear SIC once more.
“They want to silence him!” She continued, failing suddenly to mask the indifference in her voice.
“That idiot with the hammer told him to stop pressing the matter!”
Starscream’s attempt at dressing down the Magnus was a frail one. Desperation was muddling her clever tongue and making her optics blur (to Megatron’s mounting horror).
“Then that, that… useless garbage plow told him it ‘didn’t matter’! He said it wasn’t important! Can you- you believe that?!”
Megatron stood in frozen terror as her vocalizer caught. Watching helplessly as she waved about, fighting back a very real danger to cry.
Blitzwing, formerly a seeker, appeared to be the only bot left in the room not glued faceplate first into his monitor. Wings pricking in interest.
He seemed oddly invested in the whole thing, in Megatron’s opinion. Megatron, who tried not to believe in such things as dwelling on one’s former self. He’d thought Blitzwing wouldn’t worry about something like that either, but… maybe there was something more there he wasn’t seeing.
“And that stupid, little fool…” Starscream hadn’t enough sheer willpower to keep her opinions to herself and avoid the threat of finally crying her optics out in the most un-Decepticon like fashion, in front of a room full of them…
“He told Prime to ‘be quiet’.”
Like Optimus asking for these powerful mechs to hear the voices of others was some ‘annoying inconvenience’.
Or more like Optimus was some annoying inconvenience to them.
They’d certainly done nothing to welcome him there since these negotiations had began, trying to talk over him. Trying to silence him. Trying to bully him.
He’d done more than any of them had in reuniting their peoples with next to nothing to do it with.
And that may only be because he was the only one who wanted to so badly…
The coolant evaporated from the corners of Starscream’s optics in an instant -a god delivered blessing. Instead, it was outrage taking it’s hold and possessing her.
Megatron’s self-perseveration protocols surged to life.
“I’m going to gut them for talking like that,” Megatron’s sparkbeat began to pulse rapidly, knowing that look in her optic then.
“I’m going to pull out his glossa and feed it to Skullcruncher- I’m going to do it right now, in fact! I’m going to the council-“
It was that fearless look where vengeance blinded her and became more important to Starscream than basic logic- of shabby promises of truces.
And Megatron of all mechs was about to be the one to save a board full of outdated models from the wrath of the pit itself, despite knowing they deserved it.
He reached out and caught her by her sensitive wings, unnerved by the way she didn’t so much as flinch in pain from it. This was that mad- mad, that ‘you’ve disrespected a self-appointed Decepticon Prince’ mad.
“No, Starscream. That will undo everything we’ve accomplished-“
“What have we accomplished?!”
“It will undo everything I’ve had to waste my time sitting through, then. Starscream- Starscream-!”
The seeker twisted out of his grasp and, before she could attempt to take flight and race over to the senate to claim herself a pretty, new neck piece, Megatron caught her about the waist and struggled against her sheer force of selfish will to keep her thrusters grounded. Possibly the first time the foolish creature had ever posed such a real and bothersome threat to him.
She attempted lift off again anyway, squashing Megatron’s face into her cockpit as she scratched and clawed and fought for freedom. Mechs typing away at their terminals, desperately trying to ignore the chaos behind them, were inches away from breaking their far less bendable struts than the average civil mech’s by crouching so far down into their stations, some of the mechs with kibble were scraping against raw protoform.
Hiding from emotional conflict like true Decepticons.
Megatron hadn’t been met with this level of danger from the seeker in years. He was afraid he was about to meet his match when, finally, another pair of servos circled her about the waist from the other side, and she was brought back down between Megatron and her other captor.
She didn’t struggle, preserving some ounce of dignity after that extremely unbecoming display.
But the mournful look in her optic was back, and the hitch in her vocalizer was fresh, as she hiccuped an aborted sniff. Muted only by the grind of her denta in a valiant effort to compose herself.
“He was jus- t… trying to help me… No one’s…” She steadied herself.
“No one’s ever done that before…”
Megatron stared, unable to think of a single thing to say to break the uncomfortable spell cast over them, as he looked at his normally carefully distant Second. So careful not to be vulnerable- and never in front of Megatron, for Primus’ sake.
What had these negotiations done to them?
His fearless warriors…
Perhaps he could say to her that Optimus Prime was just one mech, and a young, inexperienced one. No more a crucial factor in her getting the representation Megatron was hard pressed to say her obedient clones didn’t actually deserve, even if she herself did not. But then, Optimus was apparently also the only one pushing this issue that Megatron hadn’t even been made aware of- because the admittedly accurate assumption of Starscream’s was that he hadn’t cared to be.
What he was mortifyingly close to understanding now, though, was that Optimus Prime was important to Starscream’s cause, and far from worthy of the routine mistreatment he received from of his own people.
Unless, of course, Megatron thought that his people secretly deserved such mistreatment themselves- the kind Optimus was tirelessly fighting against, though somehow failing to establish for himself. Like, if Megatron didn’t explicitly know better, Optimus was attempting to put the needs of a few Decepticons, the deserving ones, before his own… Like their proper treatment was at least worth fighting for…
He could say instead that Starscream was letting her behavior consume her and was looking a pitiful mess for it, and as vain as she was, that’d be devastating enough to hear that she might drop the issue. She had only recently established a change in the designation of her pronouns without receiving a reformation with it, garnering plenty of odd looks and outright rejection from the sleek and well-defined frames of civil types and those identifying similarly. The way they’d rejected Strika and Blackarachnia for not fitting certain standards.
It’d left Starscream feeling more fragile about her appearance and reputation lately, and such a thing would be shattering to have to acknowledge when her anger finally subsided and the weight of it all settled upon her.
But goading Starscream for something Megatron himself was constantly struggling against felt undeservedly hateful- the fight to be accepted and respected as well, as a Cybertronian with rights.
Though he couldn’t believe that Starscream didn’t seem deserving of a perfectly effective punishment he could inflict upon her.
“Thundercracker helps jou all ze time.” Said Blitziwng then, finally breaking the overwhelming tension of the moment. His grip still carefully settling her in her place.
Megatron blinked himself out of his stupor, out of his embarrassing lull of feeling guilt and concern for the seeker, and loosened his grip on her then.
Starscream took the opportunity to push both their arms from off her frame and sulk away with her wings indeed held pitifully low. They watched her go, and cords unwinding and struts re-straightening could be heard across the bridge in unison.
“Seekers are moody.” Blitzwing suggested, after a look over his unusually beaten master.
As evidenced by said former seeker’s split personalities, Megatron would agree with that assessment, and spun around in a hasty retreat from anymore emotional confrontations.
————————————
He didn’t allow himself to miss any deliberations after that, lest Starscream subject him to anymore of that guilt still weighing heavy in his spark with another pent up tirade about discrimination in her own faction some ways down the line.
This, watching Motormaster -a recent addition to high command and a poor one- barter for ‘derby rights’, however, wasn’t much better…
“Street racing is illegal.” Optimus said simply- something he’d picked up from Fanzone that had interestingly never been applicable to a race of sentiment, self-driving vehicles before.
Motormaster and his Stunticons were a… different breed, however. One which demanded a new definition for what qualified as ‘safe and legal driving’.
“You mean it’s illegal for war types ta’do it.” Motormaster growled back at him.
Plenty of other Decepticons here today would agree with that false assumption, simply for the sake of being contradictory. Flight frames included.
These talks hadn’t really done a thing to change the relationships between their peoples. They were all still viewing one another as an enemy threat, which, while true, would do nothing to help their goal of changing that viewpoint later on for their futures together.
Megatron wasn’t sure he wanted that to happen, though.
“Why in spark is this bolt head here?” Sentinel said loudly then, turning to Optimus. The only other mech there brave enough to speak over the terrifying Stunticon leader.
Interestingly enough, Sentimel Prime wasn’t particularly frightened to speak his mind at the insubordinate bastard either.
Megatron made a note of it for future blackmailings. He couldn’t send someone the airheaded Prime wasn’t afraid of to do his manipulating.
“Motormaster is Polyhex's defence garrison.” Optimus sighed, having a rare moment of sharing in Sentinel’s distress during one of these meetings.
“Uh-huh. Which you should be the one voicing all the complaints of.” Sentinel said, pointing at the Polyhexian governor, Straxus. Who Megatron had been embarrassingly forced to welcome into the senate, as his mostly made up position also came with lots of mostly made up authorities and responsibilities.
Then Starxus had the audacity -in front of Megatron- to speak.
“Well, yes… I suppose so. Would you… like me, too?”
Strika whipped her helm back to send Megatron a withering look of disgust- which he could share the sentiment of.
Straxus, never soft spoken and never one to acknowledge when he was speaking out of turn and not worth the hot air he was blowing out of his pincered mouth, had been using that tone in regards to Sentinel every time he spoke to the other mech for several weeks now.
Alpha Trion had, again, not so subtlety raised curious optics towards the display. Making his own list of alarming mental notes that Megatron would rather him not be keeping on even his most useless of subordinates.
“Our needs are individual.” Straxus said simply to the court at large.
“Burning excess energy is not a staple of my function, as it is a Stunticons. I’m a big mech. I need to conserve Energon, you know. Might I say, a very big mech…”
Straxus finished by staring pointedly at Sentinel again. Optimus watched from the corner of his optic, extremely invested in his colleague’s reaction- which was only to shuffle his datapads in front of his obnoxious face to hide it, like his notes were more important than addressing the issue he himself had caused by challenging the High Governor himself.
It was a rare moment the plow had been effectively silence.
“Alright then…” Optimus began slowly, clearly disappointed there wasn’t anything more to that interaction.
“Motormaster, war frames are obviously built with fewer limitations than civil frames. Releasing all your frustrations out on the public will result in injuries… To say the least.”
“So we’re just s’posed to fly over to Polyhex anytime we want to spin our wheels!? Get our exercise in?! It’s our right, y’know!”
“No, there are city destinations specifically designed for war frame inhabitants.” Optimus countered, much too calm in Megatron’s foul-tempered opinion. He’d like to see Motormaster verbally whipped to pieces in one of Optimus’ scathing sass-attacks from having lost his patience.
“Where are they?” Motormaster asked smugly, knowing the little Prime had just set himself up for another bout of endless bickering over the inadequacies of care the prejudiced Autobots were bleeding them of.
Which, true, but-
“They haven’t been built yet,” Shockwave -the biggest slight on the company of the proceeding council of any Decepticon mech here- answered on Optimus’ behalf. Though his presence had been won through the stipulation of Megatron agreeing to sign Magnus’ Decepticon Registration Act Part ll, he regretted nothing for the sake of the joy his place on the council had brought him.
“They are scheduled to be completed in less than another decacycle.” Shockwave leant over to stare at Motormaster.
“You can wait a little longer to run your tires to bare threads, can’t you?”
There was an air of irritation about the secular mech. Megatron eyed him several seat podiums down. Sitting as far away from the Magnus as Shockwave could be put.
Shockwave didn’t wait for the other mech’s answer, of course.
“Optimus Prime has personally seen to the construction and collection of the resources needed to make it so. He’s single-handedly enlisted the help of the specialists needed to build these destinations, no less. Much of whom, surprisingly, are volunteers.”
Megatron tried…… VERY HARD…… not to think about the lowly Prime’s status as a former maintenance bot at that.
And yet, the searing reminder kept persisting -as it always did- because Megatron could only imagine with a reputation of such casual dislike amongst a good many of his peers these negotiations had garnered Optimus, there were only so many ‘specialist builders’ he could think of who were going to volunteer the first hand construction of Decepticon resources. And one of them had been severely -possibly permanently- hospitalized because of him in the heat of their final Earth battle before his capture…
“Optimus Prime this, Optimus Prime that.” Said Hook suddenly from a seat behind Megatron.
Hook, the studious, current chief Decepticon medic -after Scalpel had proved both morally unstable (Megatron’s favorite thing about him) and unwilling to subject himself to negotiating with Autobots. He was happy preforming horrible medical services inside his medbay in or out of an everlasting war either way, so it was up to the newly integrated member of Scrapper and Mixmaster’s gestalt to appear before them all today.
Megatron turned his helm to see the insufferable mech speaking his mind -also out of turn, as was his mech’s habit- and caught a worrying glimpse of Strika at his side, looking murderous and ready to stand and punch a new hole in the Constructicon’s head.
Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.
“When exactly is Optimus Prime going to get a seat in the center of the court, so he can delegate all these matters for you?” Hook said, speaking as a whole to the Autobot chairmen across the room. Likely just upset still that he’d been denied special medical privileges to Autobot hospitals.
Probably for questionable access to the resources and records.
But the offhanded comment struck a devastating chord with the audience it’d been addressed to. Megatron watched curiously as facial plates twisted in disbelief and some in outrage.
“Preferably where jou are sitting, Magnus.” Said Strika then, and hardly in jest. Significantly adding to the problem.
Megatron’s field flared beside her in quiet despair for her to silence her vocalizer. His processor spinning with the implications that he had just become the sole protector of the Autobot High Command by trying to keep his mechs civil long enough to give this peace an honest try.
Optimus, constantly challenging the council mechs himself, certainly wasn’t there to do it.
What were these negotiations doing to them?
“I second that.” Said a voice from out of the blue.
It drifted in over the polished floor from afar. Indeed, far, far beneath the deliberators’ notice.
All the way to where Saberswipe was stood guarding his respective door at full attention.
He was relatively young for a war machine and stupidly charismatic, thinking both were enough to buy him some leeway in to injecting his opinion on matters 30 sectors above his ranking. Megatron bit back an almighty need to show him which level he was on with his fusion canon then.
“You are not to speak!” Said Sentinel Prime, having recovered from Straxus’ unwavering optic-ogling assault across the way.
“Agreed,” said Alpha Trion. Not one to allow nonsense of even this caliber. Though Megatron suspected he enjoyed a lower form of it in these drawn out meetings when the mood allowed for it.
“Leave at once, guardsmen. There is no a place for you here.”
“I’ll see him out!” Said Optimus suddenly. Standing and, without anyone’s permission, making his way down the platforms and over the length of the cavernous room to greet a happily surprised looking Saberswipe.
Megatron watched with furrowed optical ridge as the taller jet’s charming smile convinced a timid smile out of the shorter mech, before they awkwardly shuffled towards the door.
“This conference will proceed without you, Optimus Prime.” Came Ultra Magnus’ first articulate sentence of the exhausting cycle, as he watched the little truck with tired optics.
“Are you sure you wish to conclude for the remainder of it?”
Optimus had stopped walking with a far too close Saberswipe at his side to address his leader then.
“I’m causing you all too much trouble.” He said as way of shoddy explanation, barely suppressing an amused smile at the Decepticon portion of the room.
“Pheh. That’s everyday.” Senator Botanica seemed to say rather warmly as the little firetruck went on his way. She was possibly one of the few who were steadily becoming too fond of the brash little mech to think badly of his efforts.
Megatron sat, watchful optics taking it all in as the two retreating mechs came even closer together as they exited the door to the chambers, centimeters apart. And feeling somewhat… disappointed all at once.
While this wasn’t an issue Optimus needed to be present for or press anymore, as hopefully the council wouldn’t deign to change subjects of debate and infringe on anybot’s rights while he wasn’t around, his presence was still…. Necessary.
To Megatron’s gargantuan surprise, Optimus Prime, creating a steady pace of good deeds and commendable civil works for even some of Megatron’s more undeserving of mechs, was, in fact, necessary.
Of all the things Megatron expected to hear during the proceeding conversation in Optimus’ absence, Shockwave leaning forward to jab a talon at Motormaster and hissing, “You just ran him off! The only sensible Autobot here!” Was not one of them.
A Decepticon as unfeeling as a slab of dead durasteel tissue, and thinking favorably about a nobody little Autobot?
Not at all…
Apparently that irritation he was sensing off Shockwave from earlier was on behalf of the little Prime’s shockingly genuine efforts for the Decepticon Cause, and not because Prime kept inserting himself into issues.
It was worrying to think the ‘Decepticon Cause’, though, had somehow shifted to a cause centered on finding themselves a place on this planet. A semi-peaceful one. One that didn’t speak of domination and death.
But even that was not more worrying than thinking his arguably lost monstrously devoid mechs would be so supportive of one little Autobot’s attempts to make that so.
————————————
It was only a matter of time until someone was going to snap. Tensions between their two peoples were too high, and Prime just had to keeping shoving his olfactory into places it didn’t belong.
Megatron was contacted almost immediately after a team of medics were by a suspiciously blocked frequency. Meaning whoever they were, they may have been involved- which didn’t narrow down who that could possibly be with so many bots on both sides making questionable choices all throughout this merging.
What he was certain of, was that Rippersnapper had seemed to have wandered too far from the other Terrorcons and was doing his damnedest to make a mess for everyone.
Which meant Megatron was now looking for a mecha sized shark-former with a thousand tonnes too many to be laying his hands on a little, overly assertive Prime- most likely having been there ordering him to leave the civilian gallery for his foul, reckless behavior. Stepping on the crystalline garden dividers and biting at the air below where terrified civilians scurried out of range to keep their helms in tact.
Megatron was beyond furious to be reduced to playing dog catcher, but with peace as precarious as it was, this was too severe an offense to go beneath him. Being their faction wide leader, Megatron was already out of his berth from a restless recharge and bounding out the docking bay to put a stop to it.
Knowing his Terrorcons (about to be the newly dubbed ‘Torn-to-pieces-Cons’ once he got ahold of him) Rippersnapper would have steadily become more and more deranged in the time Megatron had taken to fly there. Which would have been sooner, if he’d just agreed to temporary housing in the city limit already.
And Prime for his part would have surely been an overwhelming nuisance who’d deserved what Rippersnapper had served to him, no doubt. Standing up to an entire war machine and telling him that he should literally watch his mouth and learn to act like a decent mech- even if he wouldn’t have been in the wrong for it…
Megatron’s men knew what was expected of them now- what was expected of them even more so at the moment, while they hoped to outlast the final phase of these negotiations until citizenships were finally trusted to be granted to them.
And while he couldn’t fault any of them for feeling disrespected and belittled by a mech from a faction that’d had them all disgraced from their own home planet in the first place, Megatron had had to do the unthinkable to make this union work and set aside all personal grudges for the sake of his people. He’d had to let go.
At least, he had to look like he had, and so they did, too.
And now he was going to be forced to make an example out of one of them… just to prove how seriously he was going to take his massive warriors acting out in public. Just to assure the Civilian Council that he could be trusted to conduct himself professionally enough for them to take a gamble on attempting a trial of peace with him.
Beyond the fury he felt at realizing now how desperate he actually was to see this union succeed, Megatron was carefully calculating all the ways to tortuously take out his frustrations on the Terrorcon for having forced him essentially to defend the Prime who he hated most in the infinite universe.
Megatron reached the city limit and prepared to land soon.
He was going to grab Rippersnapper by the sensitive dorsal fin and pull his mechanical gills out- make him choke around Megatron’s strangling servo stuffing itself down his intake. Help him to understand, and any present to witness it, that this was intolerable, and that their master would be eating the sparks of any wretch foolish enough to do such a thing in the future.
Jeopardizing all the humiliating work Megatron had put into sitting through those brain numbing Council calls at heinous hours of the cycle in an increasingly more unordered fashion (which was somewhat bound to be the case, since they had Decepticons keeping chairs in the chambers)….
And he was in danger of losing l all of that, because one shark shifter had the split second insanity to put their hands on one of Primus’ precious chosen ones. Even a disgraced nobody Prime who was only important in title.
When Megatron arrived at the open gallery with the anonymous coordinates he’d been sent, he soon realized that none of his fantasies about brutalizing Rippersnapper would even be necessary.
To his amazement, the commended portion of Optimus Prime’s reputation as a burgeoning enthusiast for cross-faction equality had reached far and wide in the Decepticon’s ranks, and while Megatron wasn’t sure what he’d done to elicit the favor of the brilliant Combaticon leader, Onslaught, Megatron now suddenly found himself rather desperate to know.
Just how far out of the loop was he? How lost had he been to all the mountainous changes in his mechs while he was allowing his mind to focus on Magnus and the stale moving parts of the senate that’s he’d missed this?
The wondrous world he was only catching the tail-end glimpses of that Optimus Prime was hand building?
At this point, Megatron had to wonder if in the event this all did fall through, if whether it would even be a real loss, now that they had such a widely liked, capable mech like Optimus Prime so openly advocating for them.
What it would matter, though, purely beyond sentiment, amounted to very little, and their people were not attached to ideas such as that.
Megatron blinked himself back to the present so that he could assess the damage, as crowds of traumatized civil bots, watching with their backs flat to the surrounding buildings as Brawl beat a hole into the opposite side of Rippersnapper’s sternum. Missing his spark by an inch, blessedly preferring his victims to live long enough to remember the lessons he enforced. Megatron would rather not have his mechs be publicly broadcasting an infighting casualty.
Vortex was cheering Brawl on from over his shoulder, hovering too close again, about to receive another accidental, friendly-fire medbay visit.
Megatron was starting to see the necessity in Sentinel pushing for divided recreational sects in the cities, despite Optimus’ best intentions to see everyone coexist and treat one another with the proper respect.
The average civil mech didn’t possess a quarter of the foul tempered, carnal aggression a Decepticon gestalt did. Feeding off one another and causing a ruckus, encouraged further by the other supportive members of the group, aiding in some way to the destruction.
Megatron debated which position to take then.
Whether to do damage control and hoist the heavy mechs up and away from the near lifeless body, Energon puddling up beneath its cold frame, or to focus on calling for someone of Autobot authority to come separate and treat the horrified civilians present for the mental strain of what they’d just witnessed. Were still witnessing.
He’d finally had the processor to deduce that the mechs on the scene at the time that somebot had called for the ‘authorities’ must have been of Decepticon descent themselves- and they had naturally missed the point of calling for authorities entirely by calling upon a mech they assumed would allow them to finish the job first. And while he was certain now whoever they were they’d had some kind of part in all this, Megatron would admit that their assessment that he would rejoice in his warrior’s hardy bloodbath first would have been an accurate assumption in any other setting. In one where he was not currently issuing for the position of a willing protector of Cybertron.
As the Decepticon medics that’d been alerted were being painfully slow to respond to the anonymous caller -and would not have had the understanding to do so themselves- someone was going to have to tell Ultra Magnus about this…
Out of time since one breem ago, however; Megatron would have to deal with this before anyone actually useful to Prime could arrive.
His optics tracked back over to the incredibly damning sight he’d been subconsciously avoiding since he’d glanced optics over it.
Optimus was there being cradled like a broken doll against Onslaughts’ massive chestplate. Being held higher than any horrified Autobot’s brave enough to collect their mess of a Prime could reach.
There were evidently no takers around at the moment, though, which caused something odd to shift in Megatron’s core beliefs, as he considered for himself the notion that acts of blind bravery would predominantly be their jobs soon- war machines. As it had been once before the divide of their peoples.
It was the only exchange he could offer the Auotbots for the new age of peace- to protect. To fulfill once more their shackling roles as the guardians of weak, ungrateful, prejudiced little civil mechs, and face the atrocities lurking in the cosmos in lieu of the pampered, privileged, sheltered little things doing it themselves.
Oh, how these things had a way of repeating themselves. It’d left a bitter taste in his mouth… at first.
But now… seeing how easily Onslaught had resumed control of the situation so abysmally out of the little ones’ depths, undoubtedly the one to thank for saving the Prime’s life as he had…
Civilians weren’t entirely useless to their species by any means, but a Decepticon easily outweighing them in strength size and ferocity were only the start of their problems in a galaxy much, much bigger than them.
As bad as it was, this could have been far worse.
Megatron looked twice and noticed that Swindle had materialized out of thin air at some point, possibly having been there the whole time, expertly sneaking about his brother with his shorter stature. Busy trying to talk Onslaught into purchasing a cushion to elevate Prime’s dripping helm, as Onslaught wasn’t capable of much in the way of a delicate touch.
Pink dribbled down the Combaticon’s torso as he shifted the body in his servos.
Megatron did a quick sweep next to locate the only brother missing, Blast Off, and decided whatever his involvement, it was not detrimental to him securing the crisis finally.
Megatron chose action over dissertation, leaving the innocent bystanders to console themselves -thankfully a rather hardier lot than Megatron had come to realize he’d given them credit for. Some of them shaking themselves from their stupor at the sight of him and doing what the others present had neglected in their shock by calling the Autobot forces.
There, now Magnus knew…
With that decided, Megatron marched over to the supervising Combaticon leader to work towards fixing the most pressing problem at the moment.
Fixing Prime.
Onslaught’s visor dipped in his direction, as Swindle used the magic of monkey business to all but disappear again.
“Let me have this.” Megatron said as he took the Prime away.
There was no quarrel as he was unceremoniously dumped into Megatron’s single servo, as Onslaught watched their leader whisk him away to someplace unknown.
Despite having had his servos around Prime’s waist once before, hefting him up as weightlessly as a cube of Energon, he felt even lighter now.
Worried he’d lost his grip on him, Megatron stole a look down at a peek of white denta behind full lips. The badly bruised Prime slack jawed and unmoving, beyond his helm as it was lifted and supported by Megatron’s servo.
He thankfully didn’t get very far toting a battered Prime off before a pair of civilian medics arrived well ahead of his disgracefully arrogant ones.
Protocols hadn’t been set in the event of something like this. And he was considering forgiving everyone who’d done well enough to become involved for treating the situation as casually and non-life threateningly as it actually was. Few would have the foresight and understanding that walking away from a mauling like this wasn’t nearly as common a shift-end activity as it was for Decepticons.
He could have Shockwave conduct a thorough lecture on the matter later and instill in them the severity of situations like this.
He allowed the civilian medics to carry the unconscious trucker away, decidedly too awake now to attempt sleep again.
He wandered a bit, deep in thought about the behavior he’d witnessed from the fearsome, calculative, rather far removed from even the appeal to sentiment itself, Onslaught. Holding the husk of a Prime, shielding him carefully from any potential threats- essentially anybot that wasn’t himself or a mech of higher rank than him.
And he considered how easily Onslaught could protect him- any civilian. How easily they could protect these hapless, idiot things that went well out of their jurisdiction as maintenance bots to tip the world upon its head and demand it show them respect.
How fitting their new role on Cybertron felt all at once.
How wasteful it felt to think that their natural abilities would have easily been provided and cherished and appreciated by all if they had had a mech like Optimus around to fight ruthlessly for their chance to be. They’d been missing respect and loyalty, not a proper calling.
That thought struck him to the core, and he quickly dismissed it. The Cause he’d given the Decepticons was founded in spark-deep, honest conviction. They had thrived and conquered for millennia, even from the shadows, by standing proudly in their beliefs that they had been onlined with the natural born rights to.
He couldn’t… let himself… forget that. Be manipulated so carelessly astray.
Megatron noticed yet another Decepticon gestalt in the form of the ever expanding, newly banded Constructicons, moseying their way down the street to go put Rippersnapper back together again.
At their heights, it was easy for them to spot one another and salute him. And then he noticed some of their optics catching on his chest plates.
Once they had moved on to finally fulfill their roles here -leaving Megatron to wonder when Constructicons had been given the title of ‘acting medics’, beyond the carefully appointed Hook- he looked down to where they’d been staring at the single, Energon soaked palm print one little Autobot had left there.
———————-
END PART ONE, YOU’RE SAFE NOW. I split this thing up cuz HOO damn, I am just unstable when I made this. Even now there’s like two other parts, I can’t stop talking about thiiiis
For all of you that read this far, you deserved a better proofread then what you got. I know there are lots of mistakes, but if I had proofread this even twice after indulging myself as deeply as I had with all this fluff, I would have died.
Appreciation AU will be the connecting tag I use to the other parts
#Appreciation AU#Crude Aggressive language#swearing#Some Violence#Cultural differences and marginalization#Megatron is a conniving exploitive bastard#Alien blood and some emotional torment#SLOW BURN HOLY SHI#transformers animated#megop#Megatron#Optimus Prime#Strika#Shockwave#Starscream is baby too and transfemme#Onslaught#Secretly jealous Megatron over random oc#I accidentally shipped Sentinel with a heartless miscreant And this is the first time I’ve had courage to admit this#tfa Megatron#tfa optimus#tfa
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Considering how Cybertron has been dark for a long time thanks to the war. Would there be a chance the airborne pollution would peter out enough for actual rain to occur and NOT acid? I can imagine the general reaction being fear at first especially since Cybertron has begun to rebuild after the rain.
Buildings being either heavily damaged or destroyed so any safety from the downpour is very scarce. The rain comes without warning and everybot are in a panic. At least until they realize it isn't melting them.
No one thought this would ever happen again after the millennia long pollution that ran amok. A blessing that hopefully no one takes for granted again as rebuilding is less stressful without acid rain at play.
I would write for this, but I personally believe that even in its healthiest state, Cybertronian rain remains highly dangerous for organics. Perhaps the composition of the acid rain changes due to lack of chemicals in the atmosphere. I imagine in that case it would end up as more of a stable solvent, a free shower for bots on the ground. No longer would it melt a mech, but rather become more like a nice bath with exfoliating effects. Kind of like a really nice face routine perhaps.
In which case, I can see the bots being TERRIFED at first until they come out of the rain looking better than ever. Pretty soon I bet its a whole tradition for the younger bots to go out to get their free plating care. Although I can see the older ones still abstaining just in case it suddenly turns to acid and the idiots outdoors begin to melt due to their lack of caution.
It would be interesting indeed.
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hi, hello, big fan! literally all of your writing is so good and top tier and i love every second of anything of urs i've read. which the most recent thing i read was ur jason and danny big hero 6 story. and i was so excited bc i love big hero 6, and u served like u do every time. that voice recording from mech-Robin took me out into a puddle of my own tears.
that being said i had a potential scene stuck in my head after i read that and i need to make it ur problem so here (i love love sibling angst) :
(kinda playing on ur implied engineer/inventor jason and implied danny's weakness being electricity above a certain threshold):
danny' despite telling dick that he would do a last patrol to say good bye, does not actually do that. he can't. not after- he has jason's face. he calls himself the red hood apparently. murder, mob boss, assassin, call him whatever you want. danny knows jason and that- that's not words people use for jason.
danny knows all abt pple coming back. first hand. that- that was is jason. they fought a few times. danny tried to figure out what was going on. either red hood (bc hes not jason- not yet) is being extremely tight lipped, or he doesn't know wither.
this time had been like every other time this past week danny encountered red hood in jason's turf (it would always be jason's, danny was just taking care of it). they met on a roof top, or rather danny had intercepted him. dick had told him not to go, said red hood was too dangerous, no one knew how far he was capable to go, what he was capable of doing. (danny didn't have the words to tell dick who was under the hood). danny didn't listen.
danny could tell red hood was getting annoyed of him. he was being more and more drastic, trying to get in heavier hits. if danny wasn't already half-way dead, hood would've gotten him there himself by now.
so when hood turned to look at danny, almost expecting- ready for a fight- danny hadn't been surprised. they fought like the always did. hood tried to kill, danny tried to subdue- get through to him. you can't kill whats already dead.
but hood was trying getting as close as anyone had gotten. a weird metal rope rapped itself around danny's foot, and before he had the chance to go intangible and get rid of it, electricity spiked through it.
danny could handle regular electricity, wall circuits, random door nobs, chargers - he was fine.
this- this was not normal electricity.
danny couldn't stop the scream that came out of his mouth as he crumbled to the floor in pain. pain that he'd only ever felt once before- thought he would never feel again. after all you can only die once.
danny did have a way with breaking rules though.
"danny!" he heard dick yell for him.
"danny you're hurt. on a scale from 1-10 how much pain do you feel." robin came out from it's hiding spot danny had told it to stay in. he didn't want jason to make that connection. if he even remembered.
"fucking a thousand." he barley managed before everything went dark.
-
dick knew he should've tried harder to stop him. should've known the kid would need more than a measly tracker. at least a comm, at least some good tech. not like they were short on funds. dick was suck a goddamn idiot to only realize that when he heard the most thought shattering scream of pain in his life.
"danny!" he screamed, not even thinking of code names.
"nightwing. what happened?" oracle asked in his ear.
he didn't have time to respond, only focusing on getting to danny as fast as he could. he's promised jason- god damit dick- you promised jason that u'd take the kid if smt happened to him. he would screwier dick if he had even known that he let danny go out vigilanting in crime ally of all places. unsupervised at that.
red hood towered over an unconscious but still withering in pain danny, crow bar in hand, ready to make the kill.
dick knew he couldn't get there in time. "danny!" he cried again, not feeling this helpless since his last circus act. oracle said something urgently, then b, but dick couldn't hear over the static in his own head.
red hood heard him that time. the crow bar inches away from danny's skull froze from what would've been a critical hit.
"danny?" he heard red hood's robotic voice echo from under the mask, but he didn't let the implied confusion deter him. he tackled him to the floor.
hood stayed there. watching dick as he untied the metal rope from danny's foot and called be to bring the batmobile and for someone to prep the medbay.
dick felt danny's pulse. it was light, feint, almost gone.
he could work with almost.
"danny." red hood said again, this time more sure of something.
there was something familar about the way he said that, but dick couldn't figure out why. (it sounded like jason) it didn't matter, because he would make sure danny never had to take on red hood again. not on his own.
he made a promise and he would keep it.
---
sorry i didn't think it would be that long, but it was such a bad itch in my brain and i needed to get it out.
OH MY GOSH YOU USED THE LINE
Poor Dick, he's Trying™ so hard but you cannot save/solve everything 😔 But also I'm sure this was intentional but that very similar parallel to the Joker was Concerning. Still oh so angsty though, thank ye for that. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to write for Whumptober, and yes I'm still thinking about writing for Whumptober despite of that lol
But all this was inspired by "On a scale from 1-10?" asfhjdsgh
But you are right that fic was very emotional (it didn't help that I wasn't feeling the greatest at the time so I probably added some extra angst as a result lol) I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! It was very heavy so I know not a lot of people could/would read it, but to know that there are fans out there, that really did enjoy it 🥺 Thank you so much for sharing <3
#halfagone replies#halfagone's fics#i guess?#technically yeah#but also#not my writing#but from a lovely fan#<3
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