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cutekittenlady · 5 days

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Earthspark Breakdown Summary Fic part 1

(needs a proper title)

[NEXT]

Another fic idea that there's a decent chance I wont have the time or energy to write. This time for Earthspark featuring Breakdown. Figure I'll do what I tried out awihle ago with a Pokemon fic idea I knew I wouldn't have time to write and write very very brief summaries of how I see the series of events playing out.

Kinda like a heavily abridged summarized fanfic with some stuff I cant figure out or have no ideas for yet skipped over in the interest of just getting the idea out.

Think I'll call it a Summary Fic or whatever.

(Probably going to do this in parts so might as well go ahead and put the necessary pits for a link here)

Takes place after the end of the first season during a rather delicate period between the Autobots, Decepticons, and darn well near everyone for that matter.

G.H.O.S.T. is gone and all their decepticon prisoners freed, and while there are certainly Decepticons who aren't going to let their necessary saving of the world stop their ambitions, they're hiding out atm. Regrouping, gaining resources, and figuring out what to do next.

During this tentative period; Bumblebee and co (whoever is involved in "co" is a work in progress) visit the now abandoned GHOST base in an attempt to potentially gain some information on whatever else GHOST may have been up to as well as retrieving potentially damaging information about Cybertronians.

While there the group is shocked to encounter Swindle, the still armless Hardtop, and Breakdown of all bots picking through the remains of the base. A fight breaks out between the Con bros (my special name for Swindle and Hardtop) and Bumblebees gang before Breakdown breaks up the fight and explains that hes helping Swindle and Hardtop pick through the remains to find parts to build Hardtop a new arm. They "are NOT there to pick fights!" (directed at the bros).

He asks Bumblebee why he is there and, Bumblebee rather carefully tells him about the data recovery mission. Breakdown offers the Cons aid on the mission as recovering the data could benefit him and the rest of Decepticons (former and otherwise) just as much as the Autobots. Swindle and Hardtop try to argue but Breakdown pretty quickly quiets them down, reminding them of an unexplained "deal" that they struck that meant they had to help Breakdown out.

For various reasons (that I can't explain because the magic wand of plot contrivance hasnt produced anything et) Bumblebee accepts against his better judgement (actually its probably because the base still poses dangers. rogue automatic security measures and all that), but makes it clear to Breakdown that anything the Con Bros get up to is Breakdowns responsibility and that he won't hesitate to strike back if they pull anything. Breakdown agrees to the terms and the groups heads into the base.

After some fun actiony stuff featuring the teamed up groups getting past security, they eventually make it to the core server where all the memory storage is. Hashtag, or Nightshade (becuase the Terrans should be there. They're the main characters darn it) manage to access the information and find that it contains, amongst a lot of other things, a complete list of all the known Cybertronians on earth. Both Autobot AND Decepticon. And what GHOST knew about their abilities, whereabouts, status post war etc.

This is, needless to say, kind of a big deal.

Theres a bit of a scuffle as Breakdown and the Con Bros and Bumblebees team have a disagreement of what to do with the information. Bumblebee doesnt trust Swindle and Hardtop at all, so Breakdown asks that he be allowed to see the information without the two Con Bros present. Bumblebee admits that while he WANTS to trust Breakdown, the fact that he's still technically a Decepticon makes it impossible for him to just handover incriminating information about the autobots who might still be in hiding. Breakdown argues he could say the same thing.

Eventually the two agree that Breakdown will be allowed to come and see the information, but only if he comes alone. No Con Bros or anyone else. At a time and place Bumblebee specifies. With both Optimus AND Megatron present.

Breakdown isn't thrilled at the idea of being so disadvantaged, and makes an attempt at appealing to his and Bumblebees old friendship. In the end though, he accepts the conditions. Which surprises Bumblebee prompting him to ask Breakdown why he wants to see the information so badly. Breakdown vaguely answers that there are certain Cons he knew during the war whose fate he'd like to know, and leaves with the Con Bros.

Once out of earshot the Con Bros make their displeasure with Breakdowns decision known and threaten to relegate on their deal. Breakdown becomes a lot more intimidating and makes it clear that they're perfectly free to leave and can even take the parts they found with them. Of course that'd mean they'd be left constructing a new arm compatible with Hardtops Cybertronian body and figuring out how to safely attach it without frying Hardtops circuits. Meanwhile he, Breakdown, would have no issue at all going to his old pal Bumblebee and making a new deal with him and the Autobots to get what HE wants. He'd even have information about Swindle and Hardtop to buy admission into the Autobots.

In his own mind Breakdown knows such information is flimsy and wouldnt be enough to get him into the Autobot ranks. But its enough to scare the Con Bros into compliance.

With them placated Breakdown drops the intimidating air a bit and reassures them that he's fully intending to keep up his end of their bargain by finding them an expert who can reattach a new arm for Hardtop. All they have to do is continue giving him a hand when he needs it.

With that they all leave the base with Hardtop asking Swindle under his breath if he thinks Breakdown actually knows such a person, and Swindle answers that even if he doesn't and hes just leading them on they have the advantage over Breakdown in terms of numbers. At bare minimum they'll follow his lead long enough to get all the parts they need and can always ditch him if they get tired of the 'partnership'.

End of segment.

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jazz-miester · 3 years

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Lying is supposed to be easy. So why do you make it so hard?

Pairing: Optimus Prime X Reader

Song: weathers- c'est la vie

Warnings: Bit of angst. Cursing.

An: A character/story idea I may never write. Let me know what all of you think!

A cigarette hangs loosely from thier lips. Unlit. The lighter they had pulled out wove around thier fingers. Y/n's mind still undecided if they wanted it lit or not. Granted, it wasn't a normal cigarette. Herbal. Some sort of lavender and chamomile medley.

They had promised to quite long ago. But some habits die hard and it's easier to find an alternative than fall back on old vices.

Thier hands shook slightly as they finally brought the lighter to the cigarette. On hand curling protectively around the flame and the wind howled around then.

Rain fell heavily down to the earth. The first rain in Jasper Nevada since god knows when. They needed it. Desperate for it.

God's knew they missed it. Some old memory locked away in thier mind. Cobwebs dusted away from thier not to long ago childhood.

They were barely into thier adulthood. Some would say.

It doesn't matter.

Smoke spilled out from between thier lips. Curling around and drifting into the cool air.

Thunder roared from the dark clouds. A sounding trumpet for lighting to follow.

Y/n's old chevy rattled with it. Thier heater sputtering a few times before finally giving up. Soon blasting cool air instead. They cursed. Smacking the dashboard.

"Mother fucker." They hung thier hand out the window. The cigarette almost put out by the wind. "First the fucking tire then this." Y/n hisses through thier teeth. They smack the dashboard one more time. "Last time I let someone else work on you." They turn the truck off. The silence sudden and heavy broken only by the rumbling thunder and rain smacking against the trucks roof.

Y/n checks thier phone. It was six now. Two more hours before nightfall. The tow company said they be here four hours ago. They wonder if the company decided to stay because if the rain. Wait for it to pass. Maybe this wind knocked down a power pole or two.

Or maybe the company was just lazy.

Y/n's stomach growled and they glanced over at the take out in the worn seat next to them. Chicken teriyaki and rice. Should they eat now? Probably. Before it got cold.

They blew out another huff of smoke. The window frame was wet now. As well as part of thier leg. They smashed the end of the cigarette into the ashtray and rolled thier window up. The hand crank sticking momentarily before letting go with a squeak.

They began to eat. Still keeping an eye out for the tow truck in the rapidly dimming light.

Halfway through eating thier phone buzzed. Rattling across the dashboard and onto the floor. Cursing they swallowed thickly and sputtered. Clearing thier throat before answering.

"Hello?" The phone cracked in and out. Reception was spotty this far out if town.

"We..... Can't..... Unable." Thier phone screen lit up. They held it out in front of then. The screen cracked. Obscuring part of what they could see. They looked at the number on the phone. Then to the one on the crumpled piece of paper.

"You have to be shitting me." They tossed the styrofoam back into the seat. The plastic fork falled to the ground. It was the tow company.

The bastards. Couldn't have called sooner.

Fuck it. They'd walk home and tow it themselves in the morning. Before work.

Or at least they would have if it weren't for the rumbling semi heading thier way. It came to a stop next to them. Engine deep and rumbling. It was fake. They knew. Ment to imitate earth's vehicles.

Thier phone rang. An image flashed across the screen with the caller id. Optimus. He had looked all to peaceful in that field to not take a picture.

"Hey Big Guy." They chuckled.

"Y/n. Hello. Is everything alright?" Y/n snorted. Oh fucking peachy they were. First they were late for work. Got yelled at by thier boss for shit they didn't do. Had thier piece of shit phone stolen so they had to go fucking find it. Paid sixty bucks to get it back. Had some dickhead think they didn't know shit about vehicles so they tried to scam them.

And the list goes on.

They looked over at the semi as they spoke.

"I'm fine Prime." Optimus rocked on his wheels.

"Are you sure? I was unaware one could drive with a blown tire." Y/n scoffed. Brows shooting upwards with disbelief.

"You sarcastic-" They cut themselves off. "You here to make fun of me?" The truck rumbled.

"No. I'm here offer help." He paused. "You have been here for over six hours." How. Oh ya. Patrol. They forgot he frequently came through here to and from base.

"I. Ya. I could use the help." They hated admitting that. That they needed help. They knew they could manage and y/n always felt like they owed the person back.

Optimus pulled in front of their chevy. An unspoken "I'll tow you" hung in the air. He would. Optimus knew they would come back shortly to get their truck back. Might as well help so they don't try to do it in the dark.

They were shivering and slightly soaked when they finally got in the driver's seat. Optimus wordlessly turns the heater on. Angling the vents to point at them.

"Sorry for tracking water in." Y/n muttered. Doing their best to wipe off any excess water that got inside.

"There's no need for apologies." The semi pulled away from the side of the road and began to drive. Slightly clicking gears as he rumbles downwards. Rain splattered across the windshield. Wipers working overtime to keep it away. They new it was more for them than him.

His headlights were dim, they noticed. Barley lighting up the old gray road.

It was silent. Comfortable.

It was dark now. Even more so without the full moon. Heavy cloads still cloaking the sky.

"Are the kids home?" Y/n broke the silence.

"Yes. I had to drop Rafael off at home." That's right. Bumblebee has been busy on a scouting mission. He's supposed to be back tomorrow. Short. By cybertronian standards.

It's been almost a month for us.

There's was flashing in the distance. Orange hues erie in the heavy rain. They can make out more shapes the closer they get. A red blob turning into a car. Two small blurs turned out to be a couple.

Optimus stops next to them at their urging.

Y/n hope out immediately. The rain quickly soaking through their thin shirt.

"What seems to be the matter?" Y/n asks. A woman turns around. Hand on her obviously pregnant belly. "Well shit." They mutter.

"Our tire blew out on the way to Jasper." The woman brushes a few strands of soaked hair out of her face. "Me and my son can't seem to get the tire changed. We umm." They look over at their kid. Some tiny teen trying to pull the bolts off the best they could. The car wast quite high enough off the ground either.

"Do you want help?" They already began rolling their soaked sleeves up thier arm. A simple tattoo wove from thier wrist up to thier elbow. A memento from a close friend. The woman nodded vigorously.

"Yes please." Y/n points the woman towards Optimus. They hope he wouldn't mind.

"Please Ma'am. I don't want you catching cold." Her cheeks flush. "The kid can help if they want. But they can get out of the rain if they want." The kid grins at them, missing one or two front teeth.

"I can help!" Y/n chuckles and pulls the tire iron gently from thier hands.

"Well then. Let's get going." They popped the bolts off one by one. They themselves straining despite the fact that could easily toss tires like these around. Y/n lifted weights to get stronger and boxed to defend themselves. Thier muscles flexing beneath thier shirt a testament to that.

"God. Who stuck these fu-friggen things on." The kid laughed.

"My cousin." Well damn.

It took a few moments and a bashed finger later to change the tire. Y/n was thoroughly soaked by the time they finished. Practically drowning from the rain.

They helped the women down and out from Optimus. Both of them none the wiser to the alien next to them.

The two got into the car and drove off. Y/n watches as the car gets smaller and smaller until the rain completely obscures thier view.

They grab into the handle next to Optimus's door and hoists themselves up. Smacking thier boots to get off any mud or debris before getting inside.

"Well now I'm even more wet." Y/n snorts and peels thier shirt off. They had a tank top underneath. It sticks to thier skin uncomfortably.

Optimus hums. The deep sound rumbling in the cab. Y/n pats thier pockets fully intending to light another cigarette before remembering where they're at. More precisely, who, they are with.

Instead they pull out a stick of gum. The minty flavor almost overpowering.

Optimus hums again. A sign they've come to find, was of him thinking. A habit he never broke of even after becoming Optimus Prime. Perks of being his charge they guessed.

They never knew why he did that. Became thier guardian. Y/n was well enough an adult. Had a house, payed the bills. They never understood and didn't plan on it anytime soon. Optimus was Optimus and he does what he does. He was one of the few people they never second guess thier opinion.

They held a lot of respect for the old mech.

More so than a lot of people in thier life. They wondered if he knew that. He could tell them to leap off a cliff and they would. Trusting him to be there to catch them.

It took a lot to earn that trust. And they had given it to him. With shaking palms and to high walls.

'Here'. Their actions said. 'Here is the key. Open the door and you hurt me. Guard it. Please. Because I am unable to anymore.'

And Optimus did. Because Optimus is Optimus. A being to good for this world.

Y/n had a scar that reached from thier shoulder to the small of thier back. It would have killed them if Optimus didn't step in. They got the relic. Optimus got thier trust and friendship.

"You do that often." Y/n head jerks up from where it had been resting against the window. Startled from thier thought.

"Do what, Prime?" Optimus slowed down. Rolling to a general stop at the battered stop sign.

"Help others without question. Despite it often being inconvenient for you." Y/n pops thier gum. Thinking.

They never really thought about it. They just did what felt right.

"And?" They scratch at thier neck.

"Why?" A simple one word question. Might as well been a loaded gun. They knew exactly where he was taking this.

"Because I can. Because it's the right thing to do. Because I'd want someone to do it for my friends and family." Optimus rumbled his engine. Pulling off to the side of the road.

Son of a bitch. He's gonna make them do feelings now?

Last time it was from a simple, yet self deprecating joke. Last thing they will joke about around him again was being dumber than a box of rocks. Who knew the old guy could be so silently, and heavily caring without a single word.

"And what about you? Would you not like help as well?"

The rain lessened to a drizzle now. No way we're they gonna do this shit. Not again. Don't make them face things yet.

Y/n reaches to open the door.

Optimus locks it shut.

"Fucken hell man." They mutter. Not for the last time they began wishing for an actual cigarette.

"Hmm." They sunk down in the driver's seat uselessly pushing at the gas pedal urging for him to go on.

"You can ask. You do know this." Y/n chuckles.

"I did." They wave thier hand at the steering wheel. "I called the tow company. Not my fault they didn't call me till forever later." Optimus sinks down on his tires. If they don't wrap this up now and tell him what he wants to here they'll be here forever.

But he can tell when they're lying.

They both loath and like it.

They can be truthful to him. But sometimes it hurts. Because he makes them feel. He makes them know.

They're people to. And they deserve so much more that they give themselves.

Deserve more than the punishing pace they put themselves through.

"And no one else? What would you have done after?" Y/n shrugged thier shoulders.

"Walked home and make tomorrow me deal with it. They're a bitch in the morning but they get shit done."

Shit.

"And you would call no one? Again?" They shake their head.

"It's just a tow Optimus. Not me bleeding the fuck out." They feel bad. A sour taste in thier mouth as they bite their answer out.

"You where feverish and unable to walk last time." His voice was low. Almost sad. He was upset without showing it.

He cares. Cares so much.

He cares enough about me for the both of us.

"It's fine."

"No."

"I.." I shiver. The heater turns on. "Lying 'spose to be easy. Why do you make it so fucking hard." Optimus rumbles.

"Because you care." He's right.

"And so do I. I am here. Always. No matter what. No matter how trivial you think it is Y/n. I am here. And, as you like to say, I am stuck to your side whether you like it or not." He begins to drive. His words stick to me.

"I know. It's hard." Its hard when you don't think you deserve it. Any of it.

I lay my hand on the center of the steering wheel.

"I know. I know. But I will tell you again and again. Until you truly believe it y/n."

I was lost before him.

God's I hate that he makes me feel. Feel more than I ever have. But he got me to quite one bad habit. And he's working on the other.

#maccadam #transformers #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp optimus x reader #transformers fanfiction #transformers prime

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scienceglitches · 4 years

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Proposed Hypothesis: Emotions are based in memories.

How far back did his go? Far enough. He is no protoform, no youngling. Where did they stop for him? If he gave himself even a moment to ponder far enough back he could remember coming to...Rising from a haze of silent slumber, to the distant sounds of cheering that overshadowed the sounds of metal clashing viciously against other metal with the anger of different facets; The situation, the unrelenting determination of life, the simple fact someone had stolen the competitors share of energon that morning.

No. This is not where it started. Shockwave’s memory banks went even further.

From day one, Shockwave had always shown promise, his ways ever methodical in a particular way that no one had quite yet matched. A wonderful, beautiful, flow of thought that lead to many massive discoveries for the Cybertronian race. Modifications, additions, and acclimation of weapons both defensive and offensive, transportation, and quality of life. So many of them credited to that of a single scientist, and the few that could stand to tip toe around his dance as some disappointing title of dance partners. A even greater portion of that already trifling number sticking around not for the pursuit of science and adventuring beyond the horizons already set by those of past, but rather the glory that came with it.

Initially coming off as abrasive, most lab partners that he was tasked with wound up wanting little to nothing to do with him by the end of the first project they’d complete with him. Shockwave could swear on his spark that it all only came from a place of passion. A wanderlust to go where no other Cybertroni- No, A wanderlust to go where no other lifeform had gone before. The commodity of praise served no purpose to him and the destinations with which he strove to reach..., and he once only hoped that his endeavors could and would inspire others to take interest in the Scientist class. Willfully ignorant to the privilege he rested comfortably in to be blessed with his gift of mind. Willfully ignorant to the unfair caste system that plagued those around him immediately or far off- beyond even his ever expanding vision. For his eye only saw what was right in front of him, his most recent projects and perhaps the next one to come after them. Never did that single optic ever stray from his lab tables and off into the distance to the civilians who were effected most by his findings and research. Whether it were the unjust enforcement on the lesser caste of a weapon he had modified, or the no questions attitude he’d taken on for his research when given death row criminals to test with.

Whether that death row criminal was deserving of their sentence or not, mattered nothing to him. The question of ‘why’ never passing through the scientist’s ever driven processor. A question that should be there always. It’s the ‘why’ that beats the first beat of life for any project.

It’s the ‘why’ that drives any living things compassion, regardless of the spectrum that it operates on.

To ask ‘why’ is a true sign of life.

Inevitably, the projects started to become too “inhumane”. Requests for particular study being turned down, and others being heavily monitored where as before the senate had been fairly trusting of the scientists and his advancements. Ever eager to tighten their grip on the growing and evolving society of theirs.

The risk outweighed the reward, even when it came to experimenting on inmates. Death row or not.

The study was so close, he recalls. The framework was done, he’d crunched the numbers and data countless times instead of resting. Shockwave became restless with the project that could prove to be a huge advantage when dealing with traitors and spys.

The Cortical Psychic Patch was at a breaking point.

Looking back now, of course, he knows it’s flaws. Knows how long it would actually take to come to perfect the Psychic Patch so that it posed as little threat to either of the two participants. Sees where things could have been adjusted more proper. Leaving less room for error and the unfortunate tragedy that was to follow him. The event that would haunt his ‘why’ as long as his spark beats.

Eager to fine tune it, eager to finish it, eager to show the senate what he could be even more capable of if they would just entrust him with even more facility and bodies that he may need in any capacity;...Caution became a third thought. So sure in himself, he did what he thought was the only logical thing at the time.

Scientist became experiment.

He’d breached the idea with some of his most recent assistants, requesting their help in recording data and keeping optics on any wrong goings. For them to make in the moment decisions and adjustments, should the need arise. All of them declined, all very unfortunately aware not just of the Senate’s disapproval in the cortical psychic patch research but also their extent in which they would go to punish those that disobeyed them. How far they would go to spin and weave just how wrong the person of persecution actually was, even if it couldn’t have been further from the actual AllSpark seeing truth. Shockwave cannot remember the disappointment, offense, and upset he’d experienced at his colleagues lack of interest in the project, and the almost down right fear they exhibited.

Scientist became experiment, alone.

All of it had been completely illogical to act so recklessly on. Stupid.

Shockwave still had gone through with it, and it’s the last memory that he has before everything went emotionally black. What actually happened during the attempt didn’t matter match, there were no others in the lab. He’d had to go in at an offline time of cycle, which would wind up being none too strange for him. Leaving on time, or earlier, was more uncommon or question raising than this. As the head scientist, there was hardly anyone to retort on it. Another instance where his privileged class left him ignorant and stupid, abusing his power for no good reason other than science. Becoming the experiment would wind up having him to pay for his hubris. Setting everything up was simple enough for him, and too simple at that- because it was no where near a point where it should have been ready to be doing this. Let alone on himself when there was no telling the outcome. Such a delicate procedure that had only been dreamed of until this point, all relying on the bots in question of participations’ processors and mental capacities.

So certain and proud in himself is Shockwave, though, he does not consider for a moment the consequences. Either he would succeed in this testing and preparation stage, be praised by The Senate. Fail, and they would slap him on the wrists for not listening to them. At worst, he’s offlined by his own experiment- and in that he is completely okay with it. In fact, that would most likely be his preferred way of going however that is not the topic at hand.

No, the outcome would be worst than his own experiment sending him to the Well of All Sparks. Shockwave can very clearly remember the pain it put him in. Wired directly into his spinal column, it sent large waves of electricity through him- forcing him to convulse. Going from leaning against a lab table, to a terrifying thud upon the ground. Something that would have certainly alerted any other bots in the vicinity were it not so late into the night. The pain burned him from within, yelling and screaming. Destroying itself as it so desperately attempted to find it’s way outside of his body, not only did it force him more into the ground in a needy attempt for a solid plateau it also forced some of his energon out of his body. Slow, meticulous, trickles evacuating from his joints as Shockwave makes attempts to focus on his survival rate at this point. Morbidly still collecting and recording data and numbers for the next group were he to not survive this.

As he solemnly reached, and over extended his restarleus, it seemed like survival was sliding through his digits one astro-second at a time. It felt like eternity that several times the tips of his claws would graze across the top of the leaver, only for him to fall to the ground once again.

Filling in the space, Shockwave can recall the pain stopping and his body falling to a pathetic pile on the floor with no antagonizing energy puppeteering his body. He does not particularly recall his hands managing to make contact with the proper leaver and end it, but it’s what had to have happened. There was no way to confirm otherwise than his still beating spark against the record time it took for him to pass out after relinquishing the intrusive energy.

Not too soon after, once he’d finally booted back up from recovery, he was put on a private trial with the senate. Something he could not believe, they were actually going to persecute and sentence him. It was almost unthinkable.

However, the most disturbing part that came to his processor was the fact that he felt nothing. Not “nothing” in the way someone would feel terrible and unforgiving after being caught doing something unthinkable. No there, simply, is not anything there for him to feel. Instead of feeling angry and betrayed at the senate and his fellow lab workers- he could only think of how it was logical that the senate felt it right to put him on trial for punishment. He’d disobeyed some direct instructions from the senate, explicitly done something they’d forbade him from doing after he plotted against that ban.

The risk outweighed the reward, so here he stood.

Chances were given for him to try and appease to them, to attempt to explain himself out of the situation but even if he could go so far in his brilliant mind there was no extracting it out of him. Processor much more occupied and concerned with trying to figure out the absence of shock over these most recent developments. Trying to feel without, apparently, having emotions. The trial passed smoothly enough, a member here or there passively expressing their disappointment in him- but there was no overlooking his blatant disregard for their authority. It’s nothing something that could just be glossed over, let alone for somebot that is only a scientist at that.

Shockwave is escorted to a transportation vehicle with what looks to be a handful of other rapscallion and criminals, silently staring and observing their every moves and taking the time to preoccupy his mind by predicting their next movements based on what he’d learned from them already. Once they’d all arrived at their apparent final destination, the sounds are only amplified from what he’d been subjected to on that vehicle. Only now it’s amplified to the umpteen degree.

As he scans and takes in the layout and other inhabitants the ruling plays again in his mind. Because of his background, he is technically medically equipped to handle a doctor’s job when given the proper tools. (Though Shockwave would argue that true for any able body out there, regardless of their class before pseudo doctor.) And with his larger frame, it made more sense for him to be sent to the pit. To deal with the gladiators who either lived with the class drafted to them or those that wished for their next opponent to finally be the one to end it all. Shockwave could physically handle these brutes if they became unruly. Here, in the gladiator pits, he could silently fade away. Either he’d live the rest of his days out caring for those the rest of society saw little more than entertainment in, or be brought to an end by those very same brutes. The problem would be solved one way or another, on a day later or sooner, eventually.

Even now, however, Shockwave looks back into these memories searching for any sign of emotion. Turning up fruitless, and finding that he does not even experience a light tinge of disappointment or frustration. The working theory is that if one cannot visually recall memories than they should be able to ‘feel’ those same feelings from that moment in time. When he focuses he does not remember anything beyond the night he decided to turn himself into the experiment on his own. Everything is blank within his mind’s eye, which by all proven data is- Abnormal.

There is something in him that knows this is wrong, something that spirals out of control in his chest plate, but even he is unable to label this “something”. Since that life changing incident, he’d done his best to substitute outwardly where he lacked internally. Acting out and mimicking motions and habits of other bots that he deemed viable enough to do so with. Some part thinks that, perhaps, if he enacted emotional vulnerability on a physical level it would entice something in his spark...Eventually that theory was dropped, now only acting in habit or for the sake of giving Soundwave something to read off of. To be more “approachable”.

Conclusion: Undetermined.

Other things called for him now, much more important experiments. Experiments that he knows can logically be finished.

#drabble #IM BACK BABEY #slaps some words together as i try to properly depict my headcanons ahasoidfjasdf;;;;;;#anyways im gonna work on some replies today!!!#im prolly gonna stick a handful of them in my queue but yes!!! expect me to be around more now again!!

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officerofcybertron · 4 years

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Demolition Part 1

Iacon was not quite the crumbling ruin anymore. There was still debris in plenty and many of the buildings were still merely skeletal remains of what once was, but there were a few smaller buildings that were starting to look as though they could be the beginnings of a new city.

Nothing too tall, or fancy, but they provided what was needed. Shelter, a place to gather, and to rest. The only building that looked more important than the others was the Hall of Iacon itself, but even it was not finished yet.

There were days where the sense that rebuilding would never be completed lay heavy on the air. Autobots, Vehicon, and Eradicon alike, toiled on day after day. There wasn’t a single member of Iacon who was not required to join in the rebuilding efforts. Not even Ultra Magnus himself. Especially as they had few mechs of his height and strength. Bulkhead was certainly strong, but Ultra Magnus was taller. Many days passed with Ultra Magnus moving beams in position, arms extended above his head, while bolts were fastened into place to prepare the beam for welding.

Solarrail, the shuttleformer, was another such mech. Taller, and broader than even Ultra Magnus, he could often be seen carrying massive loads and standing, as a pillar, while others worked about and around him. It was quite often that Ultra Magnus found himself working with the new spark. They worked well together; both of them quiet, unlikely to spend too much time talking beyond what was necessary to the job. It was not an uncomfortable quiet, either, and while Ultra Magnus was always curious as to how the younger members of Iacon were doing, he trusted they would come to him if they needed something.

Today, however, Solarrail was not present at the construction site when Ultra Magnus was, and he instead would be working with a trio of Vehicons and another, younger, mech named Downshift on a demolitions project. ‘Downdrift’ was a name that had once been quite popular. It hadn’t been all that strange to know more than one Downshift before the war.

Ultra Magnus’ steps were heavy enough that the four, who’d been chatting away happily prior to his arrival, turned nearly at the same time as one another. He was happy to see that Downshift and the vehicon had been talking so animatedly, but the moment he got close the laughter and words died down. The vehicon did not look directly at him, while Downshift stared up at him in a manner that made Ultra Magnus uncomfortable. He did not care for being idolized, but in some ways, it was a consequence of the position he held now. He was the leader of the Autobots, and City Leader of Iacon. It was a reaction he’d come to expect.

Still; Ultra Magnus would have preferred that they had continued talking amongst themselves. He felt no need to butt into other’s conversations as he worked.

“Ultra Magnus,” Downshift started to say, and then as though someone had coached him, he immediately snapped off a crisp salute. “Sir, it’s a privilege to be working alongside you today.”

“At ease,” Ultra Magnus replied immediately. “Today I’m just another member of the crew,” though he never really was. There would be times he’d be pulled away for something else. Sometimes it related to the rebuilding efforts, but more times it involved something that required his attention as Commander, or City Leader.

Downshift seemed to beam, but comparatively the vehicons, he thought, looked miserable. Ultra Magnus was still doing his best to learn how to read their body language. He was unused to working with individuals who wore masks at all times, but right then he suspected they would have preferred to only work with Downshift who – New Spark that he was – carried no memories of the war and seemed at ease talking with a trio of individuals who were seemingly indistinguishable from their fellows.

It was ironic, Ultra Magnus thought has he followed after the two vehicons with Downshift walking along side him, that the Decepticons who’d started the war due to the oppression they were forced to suffer, would create identical clone-like soldiers. Soldiers who were so much canon fodder, and yet among them Ultra Magnus could see distinct and varied personalities.

That was, until he walked among them. He did not know if it was only himself that saw this sudden snap and change in attitude, or if other members of Team Prime did as well. The moment he started to work with the vehicon and eradicon, it was as though they dropped their personalities into their tool chests and returned to being nameless numbers in a horde of clones.

There were a few individuals who often worked directly with Team Prime who did not make this sudden switch when speaking with Ultra Magnus, but they were vastly in the minority.

A trailer, currently empty, lay sitting in wait for them at the edge of the current construction site. The job detail today was to go and collect materials from one of the more devastated buildings and assist in the demolition of another. Ultra Magnus immediately set the tools he’d been carried onto the trailer and transformed. It took only a matter of seconds to back into place and wait for the others to hitch the trailer to his alternate form.

Once all the tools were secured into place on his trailer, and the others had transformed into their vehicular forms, Ultra Magnus pulled forward. The rumbling hum of his systems perfectly mimicking the engine of his Earth-guise.

Side-view mirrors adjusted and he watched as Downshift moved into position behind him. His alternate mode, interestingly enough, was almost a combination of a more typical Cybertronian alt mode, and the guises the Autobots had used on Earth. It was still obviously Cybertronian, but the lines looked very similar to Smokescreen’s. What had caused this mutation in alt mode? Perhaps it was that Optimus was now one with the All Spark and his memories and experiences, as a Prime, were bleeding out into these new sparks.

Comparatively to the vehicons, Downshift was slightly smaller, his cab not quite as large. Perhaps, one day, he would need to see to repairing the damage the Quintessons had done so long ago and return the Cybertronians back to a time when they had no compartments for alien life to sit in.

Or maybe not. The cabs came in handy more often than they didn’t. Furthermore, if they continued to spend time on Earth it would make assisting the humans in different matters easier. Instead of bringing an extra vehicle, the Autobot working with them could transport them.

An Autobot’s frame is also far stronger than the metals making up a human vehicle, Ultra Magnus thought. Turning and moving out into a clear lane that would lead them to the site. Had Rafael been in a regular vehicle, and not within Bumblebee’s cab, it’s highly likely he would have died at the moment of impact when Megatron fired on the pair. With the Decepticons still in space, and the resources available on Earth, there is still a chance that we may need to return to Earth in order to protect it from any rogue Cybertronian force.

For the period of time it took to drive to their assigned location for the day Ultra Magnus was left alone to contemplate his thoughts. The longer the silence lasted, the more aware of it he became. Downshift did not strike him as a quiet mech. He had thought to be pestered by pleas for an accounting of his time during the war. It had happened with a few individuals, fresh from the Well. Though he always managed to find a way to dissuade them from continuing their queries, it was enough that he found it interesting that Downshift was not questioning him.

The building was surprisingly tall, a large portion of it’s western wall jutted up into the sky like a dulled blade. Sunshine added to the effect, bringing out the harsh metallic edge where the metal had shorn away and left an area of exposed metal free of rust. It was not the tallest building, however, so perhaps what made it so surprising was the simply the long ‘blade’ that jutted up out of the foundation. There was another building close to it that had faired better, and was taller by a couple stories, but this one stood out in contrast.

Like a bizarre handle, scaffolding circled the ‘knife’ and on it climbed twenty vehicon and eradicon workers that had arrived shortly before them. Each team was made up of five crew members who worked a section together. The crews were made up of five members and at least one consisted entirely of eradicon, particularly on demolitions jobs such as this as they would be capable of transforming into their jet forms if they were to fall. Each had a crew ‘lead’ who organized and communicated with the other crew leads.

Ultra Magnus, ultimately, was the overseer of all the crews when he was on site, but if he could he would cede that position to the eradicon, or vehicon, who was senior among the crews. When it came to construction, and demolition, Ultra Magnus had little useable knowledge. Thankfully the eradicon on this site, who had decided to call himself Sixten, was quite affable. Ultra Magnus had worked with him several times and, he was beginning to suspect, Sixten was rotating his own schedules so that he could join the crews which Ultra Magnus was assigning himself to. For which the Autobot Commander was grateful.

“Sixten,” Ultra Magnus greeted as he pulled up, remaining in vehicular form until the trailer could be unloaded and unhitched. “How are things proceeding in this quadrant? Has there been any trouble?”

“Nothing to report, Sir,” Sixten replied. Though he was relaxed enough with Ultra Magnus to speak directly with him, in front of the others Sixten remained formal. “When we first arrived, there were signs of something small having been in the area, but no indications of sapient life.”

It was not just Cybertronians that the Well seemed to be producing, but other Cybertronian fauna too. Aside from the Frizz-rats, glitch-mice, and scraplets that had continued to survive on Cybertron even after it had turned dark, Ultra Magnus had seen a Turbofox skulking about the ruins near Tyger Pax on one of his patrols.

Where there were small predators it was possible there were larger ones, but there was always the possibility that a group of Decepticons, or Autobots, could return and attack the work sites. Which was why Ultra Magnus insisted on groups of twenty-five split into fives. Two groups would stand as look-out while the other three worked. Every four, to four and a half hours, the entire group would take a break. After which those who had been on watch would help with the construction or demolition, and another two groups would take up the watch position.

Because of the odd number, though, at least one group would work through the whole day, but even that was rotated on a daily basis. Ultra Magnus wanted the process to be as fair as possible and thankfully these precautions were only needed on outlying demolitions projects.

“Good,” Ultra Magnus commented and as the trailer was unhitched, he pulled forward slightly and transformed. He offered a nod to Sixten before turning to pick up the equipment he had brought. Cutters and clamps, along with lengths of cabling they could use to haul chunks of the building down with.

Walking up to the site Ultra Magnus reflected that, realistically, it would be easiest to simply use explosives to bring these buildings down, pile the resulting debris into a trailer, and haul it off to be smelted down and refined for new building materials.

There was one main problem; many of the major energon lines had moved since Cybertron’s revitalization. Some were closer to the surface now than they’d originally been, but others had completely dried up and new ones had been forming over the last few years. So far, the Autobots had not managed to map them, and as such explosions of any sort were a risky business.

So, they did things the long way. Cutting away portions and hauling those portions off to Iacon central. The Autobots had spent months working to map any energon deposits around Iacon. To both their relief and chagrin Iacon was clean of deposits. It would have made things easier when they first started if they could have mined localized energon, but as it was it allowed them to put more focus into excavation and initial demolition.

“If you would, Ultra Magnus,” Sixten was saying to him. Ultra Magnus turned and looked down at the mech, waiting quietly for him to continue. “We need another team working the base of the building…” It was a request, but also a hint to where Ultra Magnus would help the most. Ultra Magnus was capable of lifting far heavier sections, which meant the job could actually increase in speed with the cutters at the top being able to dissect larger sections. Ultra Magnus nodded his assent. It was a good idea, and he appreciated that Sixten had offered it to him.

Not a word came from the vehicon who were with him, or from Downshift. He knew that they were all tired. This was their last rotation before they received time off. Even Downshift, younger mech that he was, seemed to have less energy now looking at the task ahead of them than he’d had when Ultra Magnus had first joined up with the team.

Granted Ultra Magnus never took time off. The days he was relieved of his duty from the construction and demolition projects he instead used to focus his attentions as Commander. Going over the next rotation’s schedules, energon reserves, and equipment in need of repair or requests for equipment at different sites. It was probably menial work that he could have handed to someone else, but the honest truth of the matter was Ultra Magnus liked to keep busy. The classic workaholic.

The slab that fell to the ground, hours later, was far too large for even a team of Vehicon to lift by themselves, but with Ultra Magnus’ assistance his team, and half of the other that was working the base of the building, were able to lift it and place it on the trailer. They were making excellent progress. Ultra Magnus had already returned to the smelting site once, and he would need to do so again shortly. The Eradicon working the top of the building were making exceptional progress today. Ultra Magnus had wanted to commend them on it, but they continued to keep their backs to those stationed on the ground, with the exception of Sixten. He was always on watch, ensuring that no one on the ground was about to be crushed by a falling piece of the building.

Ultra Magnus adjusted his grip. His clawed-hand was not well suited to the task of holding onto things. It worked for basic functions, but his grip was unsure. With the help of the others he was able to mostly balance that portion of weight on the claws, instead of gripping it, and he always used his left hand to shove the slab of metal onto the trailer as he was better able to apply the necessary force with his remaining hand.

“Ultra Magnus,” the question came from his right, he turned and found Downshift standing there, looking almost sheepish.

“Is there something you need, Downshift?” he asked, and was rewarded with a moment of surprise in Downshift’s optics. So often Ultra Magnus found that most of the younger, or newer, members of Iacon did not think Ultra Magnus would remember their designation. Most seemed to believe that he was too busy, which they understood, while others believed he would think himself too important.

He was busy, but Ultra Magnus still insisted that no one was ever so important that they should not know the designations of the people they worked with. Even when he was about to meet with total strangers Databank would get him the necessary information on them so he could properly remember their names once they’d introduced themselves.

“I’m a little confused,” Downshift admitted after a moment. The vehicon had already walked away, immediately returning for another portion of the building which was smaller as the eradicon working top side had reached the last section. They would need to lower the scaffolding again.

“Confused?” Ultra Magnus prompted after a moment when it seemed like Downshift was having trouble speaking. He only wished he could sound more like Bumblebee, or Bulkhead when he did so. The pair were very much like Optimus. They cared, and you could hear it in their voices. Ultra Magnus cared, of course, but despite his best attempts he had difficulty softening his voice. Downshift must have heard something encouraging though, or maybe it was the way Ultra Magnus remained relaxed, almost casual, in his stance.

“Yes, sir,” the formality came out almost as a fall-back, “I’ve worked with the crews quite a bit, and I really enjoy my time with them. I know there’re some Autobots who don’t think they’re all that smart, but you don’t seem to be one of them… and, I was trying to figure out why everyone is so quiet.”

Ultra Magnus vented softly and let his optics focus elsewhere for a moment. It was the same question he’d been asking himself that morning. Why was it the vehicon and eradicon seemed to become quiet in his presence, saving a select few?

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to your question,” Ultra Magnus admitted, and gestured that they should rejoin the others. “There are many reasons why they may feel uncomfortable speaking in my presence.” And all of it was due to the war, that much he was certain. How many of their people had Ultra Magnus slain? Beyond counting. The blood-energon on his hands, and frame, was thick. Likely there was no other Autobot still alive that was as stained as Ultra Magnus.

Perhaps it would have been better if he did not force his presence on them, but Ultra Magnus did not want to be a leader who lorded above the others. The only time he had done so was as his time guarding Sentinel Prime. Even then he would do what he could to engage in some of the more miniscule tasks of his job, so that he might be visible to those who were required to follow his orders. Sentinel Prime had not approved of such things, but it was the one way in which Ultra Magnus defied him. They were his crew, he’d claimed, he would work with them so that they might be more efficient as a cohesive whole.

That logic, at least, Sentinel Prime had agreed with, though it was not Ultra Magnus’ real intent. Just something he offered as a means to continue as he had been.

Downshift said nothing more. He looked thoughtful as they returned to work along side their crew. After this section was finished, and before they moved the scaffolding, Ultra Magnus would have them take their mid-day break once they’d finish loading the trailer. He’d take the trailer back while the others took their break so they could have time to relax and talk without him there to distract them.

“Ultra Magnus!” Sixten called out to him, just as he was considering whether he should ask Downshift to join him in the trip back, or if it would be safe enough to leave the young mech under Sixten’s care. The eradicon stood next to another building, crouched down and brushing his hand over something. The three vehicons who were part of Magnus’ crew stood next to him, looking over the side of the building. Concerned, Ultra Magnus adjusted his course.

“What is it, Sixten?”

“I’m not sure,” Sixten admitted, “I’ve never seen markings like this.”

Kneeling down to be closer to what Sixten was looking at, Ultra Magnus scanned over the side of the building. It was pocked, the marks so tiny that it would have been impossible to see unless one stood right next to the building. Frowning, Ultra Magnus slid his good hand over the surface, letting his finger tips trail slowly over the markings.

“Does it continue around to the front of the building?” Ultra Magnus asked, standing up and moving along the side, sliding his hand against the surface until he found where a gaping hole served as an entrance.

Pulling his fingers away he rubbed his thumb against them. There was a fine powder on the tips. He would have thought it similar to the metal dust that resulted from grinding sharp metal edges down into a smooth surface, but the particles were even smaller.

“Auger mites,” Ultra Magnus said at last, dusting his hand off, “like Scraplets, but a great deal smaller. Harmless.” His optics narrowed again and Ultra Magnus leaned closer to the wall. “There may have been a colony here at one point, but I detect no movement.” Turning to look at the others, he found them watching him. He had to stop for a moment and remember it wasn’t particularly likely that any of them would have ever heard of Auger Mites.

“They’re actually quite beneficial to the planet,” he explained, “and harmless. To living metal, that is,” Ultra Magnus put his hand against the wall again and pushed, just lightly. It wasn’t enough to put them at risk. The area where his finger tips pressed began to dent inwards, flaking away from the tunnels underneath the surface.

“Though as you can imagine, they can also be a pest. Buildings that become infested with auger mites need to be treated, or they’ll quickly—”

Ultra Magnus’ helm shot up at an oncoming sound. The air began to vibrate, and the smaller pieces of metal rattled on the ground. Too quickly the vibration became a roar; a roar that tripled. Three Seekers came into visual range; flying far too close to the ground. Despite the distance, Ultra Magnus recognized the leader of the group; a young mech he was growing far too familiar with.

“What are they doing, flying over a demolition site?” Ultra Magnus asked and raised his hand to his audio receptor to comm. the trio of fliers, but the roar grew to unprecedented levels, building to a shriek.

In quick succession all three Seekers broke the sound barrier directly overhead. The very ground and the surrounding buildings, shook from the force. Soft pings sounded up from Ultra Magnus’, Sixten’s, and the other’s armor as dust and chunks of the building next to them rained down on top of them.

“Ultra Magnus to Tailwind,” he called into his comm. unit, but received only static in return. The trio had already gone out of range of his short-range communicator. A large ex-vent rushed out of his systems as the static continued, but it was the odd growl from Sixten that caught his attention.

“Do you want me to go after them, sir?” His voice sounded more aggravated than Ultra Magnus had heard before.

“No,” Ultra Magnus sighed, “I will have a word with Tailwind.” Again. Tailwind wasn’t a bad sort, but he was prone to showing off. Particularly if he knew where Ultra Magnus was working for the day. It was an almost bi-weekly ritual with Tailwind. He’d ply Magnus for permission to fly out further from Iacon’s city limits and Ultra Magnus would deny his appeal.

The trouble, this time, was that he had roped two other Seekers into his performance. Ultra Magnus would need to learn who it was that had joined Tailwind today.

“We’ll see how cocky he is during our next lesson,” Sixten said, surprising Ultra Magnus.

“I had forgotten,” Ultra Magnus admitted, “you are one of the flight instructors for the new Seekers?” There was a little pause, as though Sixten had not meant to bring up the subject, but he nodded a moment later. Magnus gestured for them to head back to the site where the other crews were waiting for them.

“I am, but only on my off periods,” Sixten admitted in an almost sheepish tone. Ultra Magnus watched him for a moment with a questioning gaze. “Obviously,” Sixten continued, “I’m not the instructor a proper Seeker would be, but it’s better than nothing and it would be dangerous for them to learn on their own.”

“If you wished, I could assign you as an instructor on a more permanent basis,” Ultra Magnus offered. “That way you could provide them with the education they needed, and still have a rest period.”

“No,” Sixten said immediately, holding his hands up as though to ward off a blow, but Ultra Magnus suspected it was an entreaty to allow Sixten to continue speaking. “… apologies, Ultra Magnus, Sir. I appreciate your offer, but I’m content as I am.”

Ultra Magnus nodded his helm, respecting Sixten’s wish, but it also brought forth his normally quieter curiosity about the vehicon and eradicon. From what he’d seen there were very specific individuals among them who seemed to have a more forward personality type. There was a whisper of a rumor that Shockwave had created the clone-like soldiers, but from where did he collect the sparks necessary?

It was possible that Shockwave had collected the sparks he needed from the Well, but early on in the war the Well began to produce less and less life until individuals came out only in two’s and three’s over an extended period of time. It was not feasible that Shockwave could devise an army from such a small supply.

But there was another source. A chilling rumor whispered among the Wreckers as they battled endlessly against Shockwave later on in the war when the majority of the Autobot and Decepticon forces had left the planet. It was not widely spread, to do so would hempen the war efforts, but the Decepticons were known to take prisoners.

For a brief, cold, moment Ultra Magnus could only look at the lines of Sixten’s frame. Questioning. How many soldiers had he seen dragged off in the midst of battle? Some still fighting, others yelling for help that could not reach them in time. How many had he been unable to save?

Could Sixten have once been someone Ultra Magnus knew? Or had Shockwave devised some means by which to create sparks without the All Spark? It was a truth that Ultra Magnus had no desire to discover. If it were true, if Shockwave had used Autobot sparks to help create this army of drones, then the Autobots had been fighting prisoners of their own faction.

“Look out!” Deep in his thoughts, Ultra Magnus did not immediately parse the warning shout, but his optics quickly snapped up to the look-out on duty, and turned when he noticed the mech pointing. So, lost in his thoughts about the war, Ultra Magnus thought to see a line of Seekers approaching their position.

Instead he saw a slab of metal plummeting down towards the group who walked a little way behind him and Sixten, broken away from the decrepit building.

Ultra Magnus twisted mid-step and lunged towards the group. The vehicons flinched and within a split second their arms transformed into their blasters and leveled them at Ultra Magnus’ chest plating. An Autobot had just turned and rushed towards them, they felt they needed to defend themselves. Ultra Magnus understood, but he still pushed his way past them.

The slab, which would have likely crushed the four beneath it, landed squarely on Ultra Magnus’ upraised hands and shoulders. Chunks of building quickly followed it, pelting the slab with enough force to make Ultra Magnus’ frame shudder. The noise grew to a crescendo and the air filled with dust, nearly blinding those in the vicinity.

“Go!” Ultra Magnus shouted, twisting to better support the slab. When they hesitated, his voice gained a snap of command he’d not used since the war had ended. “Go! That’s an order, get out of here!”

The vehicon were the first to react, with one of them grabbing Downshift by the arm and hauling him away from the Commander. Ultra Magnus grit his teeth against the fierce pain in his right hand, in the claw-like device Ratchet had devised for him. It was not made to bare the brunt of so much weight.

Shifting his grip, intending to throw the slab free and run, Ultra Magnus was forced down to his knees with a new collision. He struggled to get back up, yelling from the strain. He pushed himself up, got one of his feet underneath him. On one knee he began to lift the slab again…

But with a great shriek of metal a chunk of the slab broke away. Pain, hot and searing, ate it’s way up his right arm through already sensitive circuitry. Energon streamed from the wound left behind when one of the prongs of his claw sheared away with the force of the impact.

A large chunk of metal crashed down before him, tilting and leaning against the slab he already held. Ultra Magnus growled and heaved with all his might to push up from under the slab across his back, only to be driven back into the ground as the building continued to fall.

Pain was his only companion. The drip of energon sliding down his arm and across his frame. His legs were an agony, pistons and gears grating against the strain.

With a resounding crash the slab fell forwards, and the remains of the building toppled down.

#Demolition Drabble #ultra magnus slice of life #Yes it's a cliffhanger #but it was already at 9 pages #Don't worry it's the weekend so Part 2 will be up soon!

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pipermca · 5 years

Text

Anniversary, Part 6

This is the last bit of this fluffy, self-indulgent twaddle! I’ll be cleaning this up later and throw it on AO3. :)

Rough draft, hot off the word processor, mind the typos.

An hour later, cleaned, dried and freshly polished, Bluestreak kicked back in his chair on the porch. If there was one aspect of their house that he loved, it was the huge porch that wrapped around the front of the house. They had borrowed the feature from the farmhouses they’d seen on Earth. The Constructicons hadn’t been quite sure what to make of it, but after they saw it in practice they said they started recommending the feature to other clients looking to have homes built on the reformatted Cybertron.

The sun had set hours before, and the yard was dark and shadowed. From the porch, he could see the glow of the optics of the zap ponies in their pasture, and the security lights at the edge of their property up by the road. To the south, skyglow marked where Iacon lay, hidden just below the horizon. Bluestreak had lit the small lantern they kept on the porch for when they sat outside on evenings like this, and tiny glowflies flitted around its cylinder.

“I got into the good stuff. I figured you wouldn’t mind,” Hound said as he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. He handed Bluestreak a cube and settled onto the glider bench next to him. “After all, it’s a special day. To us,” he said, holding his own cube up to Bluestreak’s.

“Here’s to another 25,000 vorn,” Bluestreak said, tipping his cube so it clinked against Hound’s. “I still can’t believe you’d known me for that long.” He took a careful sip from his cube, and rolled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing. “Mmm! This is that aged visco that Prowl gave us, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It is,” Hound said, and threw his arm around Bluestreak’s shoulders. He took a noisy sip from his own cube, aerating the liquid as he drank. Bluestreak turned his head to look at the zap ponies so as to hide his smile; he’d always thought that Hound’s method of drinking engex was funny. But he looked back at Hound when the green mech gently rubbed his shoulder where his hand rested. “Did you have a good anniversary? I thought about maybe booking us into a hotel in Iacon and going to a concert or some fancy restaurant, but that isn’t really our style.”

“This was just fine,” Bluestreak said, leaning into Hound’s embrace. “Perfect even. It was the right mix of special and normal. I mean, from the moment my day started it was nice. You told me that story you’d never told me before, about how you first met me... I wish I could remember you, but I guess there’s somethings your memory just doesn’t hang onto. The cabinet was a really fantastic surprise, too!” He grinned at Hound. “Those carvings are spectacular, and I’m still completely blown away by how you managed to get real organic wood for it. I desperately needed a better way to organize all my gear. Thank you for that gift.” He leaned back in the glider and looked out at the yard. “And there’s all the little things, the things I know you do all the time, like washing the backs of my wings where I can’t reach myself, that’s just –“

As he spoke, things clicked into place in Bluestreak’s processor, and his optics widened. The story. The gift. The wash and polish. He looked at Hound and pulled his field in as tight as he could, afraid of what he’d be revealing. “Hound... Did you... Did you perform the Conjux Ritus today on purpose?”

Hound’s field flared with trepidation, but his expression was one of resolve. He set his cube aside on the table beside the glider, and slid off to kneel on the porch floor in front of Bluestreak. He took one of Bluestreak’s hands in his, looking up at him earnestly. “Yes, but it’s not how you think. I know, a long time ago, we talked about becoming Junxies, and you said that you didn’t think that was something you could commit to. And I said that was fine.” Hound squeezed Bluestreak’s hand, and Bluestreak could feel the green mech’s field swirling around him, seeking any hint of how the Praxian was feeling. “It’s still fine. Nothing has changed there. I am not asking you to do anything that you are not comfortable with.”

Bluestreak stared down at Hound. He remembered that conversation, the one they’d had after the war had ended, and they were both just happy to just be alive after everything that had happened. They both said they wanted to stay by each others’ sides, but....

But.

Bluestreak remembered Hound asking if he would like to be joined together as Conjux Endurae... And Bluestreak had said no. Not because he didn’t love him, Bluestreak had hastened to reassure Hound, but because he was worried that solidifying their relationship into something different, something named could somehow... That it could cause him to lose Hound. Bluestreak had lost so much since the bombs began to fall on Praxus. In one of its anguished twists, his processor had managed to convince him that if he and Hound became Conjux, he would lose Hound just like he had lost everything in his old life in Praxus. No matter how crazy it sounded when he voiced it, Bluestreak could not shake the feeling that the very act of committing to Hound would mean that he would lose him.

Anxiety was never rational.

Hound, Primus bless him, accepted this, and had never brought it up again. Until now.

Bluestreak felt his anxiety swell, but he wrestled the feelings back down so that he could think clearly. Or at least try to think clearly. He kept his field pulled in tightly. “I don’t understand. Are you asking or are you -” Bluestreak started to say, but Hound reached up and pressed a finger against Bluestreak’s lips.

“This is not a proposal,” Hound said. “These are not the Rites, not really. The things I did today... I did them because I love you, not because I want anything to change between us.” He massaged the back of Bluestreak’s hand before pressing his lips against Bluestreak’s fingers. “I would do all of them for you, again and again, for as long as you’ll let me, just because I think you deserve it. And I don’t need our relationship to be formalized or codified or celebrated. We know what we have together, and that’s good enough for me, really.”

A half smile lifted one side of Bluestreak’s mouth. “I’ve heard some mechs say that even if you don’t intend the acts to be part of the Ritus, they still count in Primus’s optics.”

Hound laughed, and Bluestreak felt his field relax slightly. “And you’re about a religious as a rock,” he said. He kissed Bluestreak’s hands again. “And besides, I didn’t do all of the acts. I left one out. You know, just in case you made that argument.” He winked at Bluestreak.

A million different thoughts flew through Bluestreak’s processor as he considered and analyzed all of the data that he had been presented. It helped relax him, soothing the anxiety that some of the threads created. Bluestreak’s powers of analysis were nowhere near as advanced as Prowl’s, but engaging those skills helped calm him. He had been an effective sniper on the battlefield because calculating trajectories and targets and windshear and movement took so much processing power that he was left incapable of having a panic attack. Now, after the war, his processor was rarely taxed with that much data. But all of the information, from Hound’s actions that day, to what Bluestreak knew of their history together, to Cybertronian law, to conversations that Bluestreak had had with his therapist Beacon over the past vorn, was reviewed and evaluated until he reached a conclusion.

He could do this. He was sure.

And for the first time, it felt right.

Bluestreak’s half smile became a full one. “And it could also be argued that by agreeing to stay by my side even though I’ve told you I don’t want to become Junxies, you’ve demonstrated the Rite of Devotion anyway. Which would mean you’ve done all four Rites in one light cycle.”

Hound’s field tensed again, and the smile slipped from his face. “Trust me, Blue,” he said. “I would never try to coerce you or guilt you into doing anything that you wouldn’t be comfortable with, and –“

“What if I said yes?” Bluestreak asked. He finally released his own field, threading it through Hound’s reassuringly.

Hound’s field writhed, caught between surprise and shock and hope. His mouth worked silently for a moment before his vocalizer re-engaged. “What?” he asked.

Bluestreak lifted Hound’s hands to his lips and kissed his fingers the way Hound had done to him. “You know how Beacon has been working with me on stopping my negative thoughts?” When Hound nodded, Bluestreak continued. “So, if I apply that here... I resisted becoming Conjunx because I was afraid of losing you. I knew that was irrational, but I couldn’t shake that feeling. So I ask myself: how would I lose you? And the answers were always crazy. Things like: you’d find someone else who you liked better as soon as we became Conjunx, or just the act of registering our relationship would cause the administration to find some reason to keep us separate. Or you’d drive off a cliff.”

“You’re the only one of us who’s driven off a cliff,” Hound said quietly, and Bluestreak was thrilled to feel the tang of amusement in his field.

“Right? And we’re still together, even after that.” Bluestreak leaned down to rest his helm against Hound’s. “So Beacon told me to ask myself these questions, and see if my fears are actually rational. If they aren’t, he said that maybe I should reconsider my first impulse of avoidance.” He vented softly and fixed his gaze on Hound’s optics, just centimeters from his own. “After all... Avoiding something that could bring myself so much happiness is pretty much the definition of self-defeating. So, to stop that, what if I said yes?”

“Yes?” Hound repeated faintly. His optics darted around, and his field flared with excitement. “Yes? Really?”

“Yes,” Bluestreak said, and kissed the tip of Hound’s nose.

Hound squealed and threw his arms around Bluestreak’s neck. “I honestly didn’t think... I mean, I was just fine if... I still am fine if you change your mind, and... Yes? Are you sure?”

Bluestreak hugged Hound in return, laughing along with his partner. No: laughing along with his Conjunx-to-be. “Yes, pup. I’m sure. I want this. I think I have for a while, but my anxiety wouldn’t let me admit it.” He could still feel the old disquiet trickling around in the back of his processor, poking and prodding at him, seeking attention for its concerns. Bluestreak resolutely smothered those thoughts, focusing instead on the armful of happy four-by-four he held. “I can’t promise that I won’t have some moments where I need to be held and reassured that this will be a good thing, but I think that once we’ve got everything done and settled I’ll be fine with it.”

Hound climbed back up onto the glider and pulled Bluestreak against his side. “You know Mirage is going to want to host a party for us,” he said.

Bluestreak huffed slightly and nodded. “I know,” he said. He hated going into the city, feeling much more comfortable out where he could see the horizon in all directions. “Maybe we could host everyone here. Bring them out here, instead of doing it in the city.”

“We can do that,” Hound said. “If you want.” When Bluestreak nodded, Hound leaned over to grab his cube of engex and waited while Bluestreak picked up his own. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, Blue,” he said, and held his cube up against Bluestreak’s again.

“I have an inkling,” Bluestreak replied, gently brushing his field against Hound’s joyously vibrating one. He sipped at his cube and then said, “So if this is what we’re doing for the 25,0000 vorn anniversary of you knowing me, what should we do for the 25,000 vorn anniversary of me knowing you?”

Hound shrugged. “I have no idea,” he said. “But we’ve got 13,000 vorn to think of something.”

#rough draft #antidote fluff #maccadam #my writing #tf bluestreak #tf hound #black on white on black au

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petitelepus · 6 years

Text

Decepticon For Life, Part 11

Now that you got your friends Constructicons back your space bridge program is finished! Or is it? It may be that you might need your sworn enemy to help you out with the program. Tagging @fyrestrike because she’s my biggest fan! Love ya you silly!

”So, eh, any advice for this oath we’re about to take?” Mixmaster asked from you as you lead two Constructicons towards the main chamber where the ceremony would take its place.

”Yeah, uh, do we sign papers or something?” Scrapper asked. You giggled lightly. They were so funny!

You stopped and smiled at them over your shoulder. ”First you must kneel before lord Megatron and bask in his saving grace. Then you will repeat after him the holy Decepticon oath and as you do that you get the Decepticon symbol on you and you will become real Cons, just like me!”

The duo stared at you long and hard before they both let out a long whistle. ”Frag sounds pretty intense.”

”None at all! I just make it sound nicer for appeal.” You turned and lead them rest of the way to the main chamber. ”We’re here.”

Your three superiors were already perfectly lined up in front of the space bridge. The enormous project of yours was lighting whole are in teal light as it stood there finished. Now with Constructicons on your side, you were able to finish the bridge and use it to take over Cybertron and Earth.

You quickly moved Mixmaster and Scrapper to take their place before lord Megatron, helped them down on their knees and you took your place on Blitzwing’s left side and bowed your helm in honor at the sacred oath you were about to witness for the first time as a onlooker and not as the one subjected to this oath.

”Mixmaster. Scrapper. In honour of your successful construction of my space bridge, the time has come to officially initiate your both into ranks of Decepticons. Now, repeat after me…!” Megatron repeated the sacred oath he had announced once before for you. Mixmaster and Scrapper repeated the oath faithfully with their helms down in honour and it didn’t take long before ceremony came to it’s final step.

The branding.

Megatron pushed the irons sizzling with energy into their chassis and the reaction was almost instant. Mixmaster’s scream tore through the mountain first, followed by with Scrapper’s scream. The duo went down quicker than you had ever seen a mech went down and rolled on the floor in pain, with their new handsome paint jobs and red optics now on display.

The sight brought memories to your processor by the time you were branded and taken as one of the Decepticons. You smiled gleefully, your friends’ screams dying out to whimpers and a lot moaning in pain.

”There’s gonna be oil… Right…?” Mixmaster asked as he got up and rubbed his sore aft. You went to help him and Scrapper up while your lord chose to move up to space bridge with the shard of Allspark you have been all collecting into one fragment piece by piece together.

”With this Allspark fragment powering my space bridge, nothing will stand in the way of victory…!” He said as he inserted the the big shard on the machine and turned towards your holding cell where your apparent human pet stayed. You didn’t know much about him, other than you were denied from talking to him. ”Professor Sumdac if you do us the honour?”

The tiny professor pulled the lever upwards and you all turned to look at the space bridge heating up and making whirring noises as it came to life. Or at least it should have came to life. The giant machine died down quickly and your lord turned his attention to your pet human. He was quickly speaking of if and what not and why it wasn’t working.

Lord Megatron sighed. ”Uugh…! If my space bridge is to become a reality I must require additional help.” Suddenly he turned to address you, Lugnut and Blitzwing. ”Make sure Constructicons do as our professor tells them to do. I must address this problem privately.”

You three nodded and went to advice what to do while your lord made his way to his private chamber, but just as he was about to enter someone cleared their intake behind him. Megatron turned and was addressed by Blitzwing in his cool personality. ”Pardon me my lord, but there is something I must bring to your attention.”

”Whatever it is it can wait.” The warlord snapped and turned to leave Blitzwing on his own, but the triple changer quickly stated what was on his scrambled mind. ”It’s about Dreadtrap, my lord. She was having another heat stroke a week ago. I… relieved her wiz best of my abilities before she collapsed.”

”What does her virus has to do with anything?” Megatron growled, getting inpatient. Blitzwing swallowed hard under the heated glare of his leader and blurted out what he had heard. ”Before she fainted, she mumbled something about Autobots. I’m worried she might be a spy after all.”

Megatron grew quiet, but his glare didn’t die down, if anything it grew harder. ”Keep an eye on her. If she appears to try to sabotage space bridge or contact Autobots… put her down.”

”Yes my lord!” Blitzwing saluted him and left to join others. Megatron grunted and went on his way as he took a seat on his throne and turned on the communicator system right by his left side. The screen sizzled to life and a single red optic owning con appeared on the screen.

”I’m so glad you contacted me. Everything is going as planned oh Great One! As you predicted the Decepticon uprising of the rim of the galaxy are straining Autobot forces to the breaking point.” Shockwave greeted his lord and master, his single optic as emotionless as always.

”Excellent, but I got a more immediate problem. Track down Cybertron’s top space bridge technician and deliver them to Earth as soon as possibly. By any means necessary. A future of a Decepticon victory depends on it.” Megatron ordered.

”One moment Excellency.” The cyclops con turned his attention on his left as he fiddled with buttons off screen. ”While I excess the Cybertronian datanet…. And that’s odd!”

”What is?”

”I’ve tracked down Cybertron’s top space bridge expert, but he’s not on Cybertron.”

”Then where is he!?” Megatron was starting to loose his calm. He was done with this scrap, he wanted answers and more than that results.

”On Earth.” Shockwave replied and a image of Bulkhead appeared on the screen. The con pressed a button and another until Bulkhead’s records came up on the screen as well. ”This Autobot is a rather unique case. According to his file, he scored higher than any Cybertronian scientist on his space bridge ebjicute test, yet seems to have no other skills.”

”I don’t care if he knows his crankcase from his drying shaft! All it matters is it’s ability to complete the space bridge.”

Shockwave nodded, but still kept spoking. ”But an Autobot would never willingly work with Decepticons.”

”That won’t be a problem. I plan to making him an offer he can’t refuse. In the mean time, I want you to find out anything you can about our newest recruit.”

”Dreadtrap? I can certainly try my glorious leader, but it won’t be easy with her real name, frame and occupation hidden. But, knowing what I’ve of her from you I can find out who she is.”

”Excellent. Report to me at once when you find out about her.” The corner of Megatron’s lips quirked upwards and he shut down the communication with his special spy. New plan in his mind, he rejoined his loyal Decepticons, pleased to see that no one had to be put offline. Mainly you.

When three of you noticed that Megatron had came out from his quarters you all gathered behind him as he walked up to take a look at the space bridge and the two Constructicons working on it.

”The importance of this mission can’t be underestimated. I will handle the Autobot’s Bulkhead myself. But while I’m away I need three of you to pick an item for me from Sumdac tower. A little something that should help the Autobot to co-operate with us.”

Bulkhead? You were confused. Why would you need that big sack of bolts? Or perhaps he was going offline him for you for hurting your friends? Oh, Megatron truly was a grand and glorious leader! But wait, he said you guys needed Bulkhead? What for? You didn’t dare to ask as Lugnut was already talking. ”But oh grand and glorious one, the professor can’t be trusted alone with the new recruits! Who would keep an eye on him?”

Lord Megatron didn’t reply. He walked up to your pet’s closure, punctured in a code that would open the lockdown space and snatched him up with his two servos. ”I’ll handle him. He could be use for me. Now go and don’t disappoint me! I’ll comm you the details of your mission!”

You, Blitzwing and Lugnut went rigid as metal pipes, saluted your leader and took off with your jets and turbines hacking the air. You were out of the mines quicker than you could say coal and on your way towards the city and Sumdac tower.

As per usual, you needed to stay a little bit behind your superiors because of your higher flighting speed, but you didn’t really mind it. Instead, you took the chance to wait for your mission details to come. You didn’t need to wait long before your lord’s voice ran through your processors.

’Retrieve me the Headmaster unit. We are going to need it if we want to persuade the Autobot to help us with our space bridge.’

You all thanked your master for the information and you went on your way as you reached to city grounds. The Sumdac tower was easily the tallest building in the whole Detroit so it wasn’t hard to find. Lugnut did the honour, knowing already where the Headmaster was being held and he blew up a hole into the side of the building with his rocket. Blitzwing went close in, transforming and taking what you needed from what you expected to be a warehouse, before transforming again and you three returned to mines where unconscious Bulkhead was already waiting for you.

You all transformed and Lugnut threw a robe of steel cable to you. ”Tie him up and make sure he won’t be able to move!”

”Yes, sir!” You nodded and went to tie down the evil bot with the best of your skills, making sure that the robe was tight and that knot wouldn’t come off no matter how much he would struggle. Once comfortable with your handiwork you pleaded Blitzwing to check the robes and he nodded, pleased with you.

”Good job. We’ll take it from here.” He said and together with Lugnut’s help they each jostled Bulkhead up on his feet and just in time as he started to come around. ”Uuugh… Hey, what’s going on…?” The prisoner mumbled as he tried to online his optics and keep them that way. None of you answered to him and your superiors started to drag him to Megatron.

As soon as you made it to the main chamber your pet human, back in his cage, and Bulkhead started to talk between each other, but they were silenced by your lord Megatron. ”Silence Autobot!”

You stopped before your leader and he crossed his arms. ”As improbable as it may seem by the looks of you, I have an a good authority that you are quite the genius when it comes to space bridge technology. Equally improbable is that I need your help.”

”Never gonna happen Megatron! Not as long as I have an ounce of spark in my chamber!” Bulkhead shouted stupidly boldly against your lord and you felt like smacking him over the head, but you didn’t dare to harm your prisoner without your lord’s permission.

Megatron smirked. ”Have it your way Autobot. Why don’t you show our guest what you picked up at Sumdac tower?”

Lugnut and Blitzwing let go of your prisoner as he fell to his knees and laid out the machine you had picked up. You shivered. You had no idea what it did, but it couldn’t be good as it looked really creepy by the looks of it. It literally looked like some mech’s chopped off head.

”Refuse to co-operate with us and I will have no choice but to cut of your helm and replace it with this Headmaster unit.”

”Been there, done that, the answer is still no!” Bulkhead snapped. Megatron grinned. ”Ooh, so very brave of you.” He walked past you all towards the Headmaster unit and that was your and your superiors’ sign to pin down the prisoner on the ground with his helm sticking out easily.

Megatron continued to speak as you all held Bulkhead down. ”Of course your suffering will be relatively easy thinking back to what your friends will endure when I destroy them using your body.” Megatron reached his arm towards Headmaster unit and two tips of his servos bolted into the Headmaster, bringing the unit to live. ”Starting with professOor Sumdac.”

”No! You wouldn’t!” Bulkhead shouted and struggled in your hold. Your hold of him actually faltered, he was that much stronger than you, but Blitzwing and Lugnut had a good hold of him. But you had to wonder, was your lord serious about killing your pet human? You weren’t allowed to talk to it, but it did help you to get your voice back when you first met.

The Headmaster was flying now with it’s jets on either sides of it’s head and a thin beam of laser shot out from it’s bottom. Megatron’s smirk faltered and he turned serious again. ”Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

The laser moved slowly closer towards Bulkheads struggling helm and the bot’s struggling doubled, but your superiors were far bigger and stronger than he was. The laser was just about to reach him when there were footsteps behind you and Scrapper and Mixmaster came from lord Megatron’s private oil chamber with canisters in their hands.

”Yo Megs! I hate to complain, but we’re running a little low on oil.” Mixmaster said as he held up an empty canister of oil. How did they drink it all while you were away anyways!? You couldn’t think about that, you had to watch over your prisoner.

”M- Mi- Mixmaster! Scrapper! I- It’s me, your buddy Bulky, remember!? Little help here!?” Bulkhead pleaded, much to your shock and annoyance. He knew them? Buddy!? He was the solemn reason why you lost them in the first place!

”Yeah, but…” Mixmaster trailed off and Scrapper continued where his buddy left off. ”Not ringing any bells.”

Smug by their answer and denial of knowing the evil Autobot, you walked over to your friends from behind your prisoner and presented yourself for the prisoner with your friends.

”See, they don’t know you! I told you, they’re my friends!” You shouted smugly and yes, maybe you were being a bitch now, but this green bot was evil!

Megatron smirked. ”You have no friends here Autobot! When I’m finished, you have no friends anywhere!” For some reason, your lord glanced briefly at you, but he probably wanted your approval so you nodded your helm. You were no friend to this Autobot!

The laser was just about by the point of his chin, when-!

”Okay!” Bulkhead shouted. ”Okay! You win! I’ll… help you finish your space bridge…” He said as he hung his helm in shame and sweet defeat. You couldn’t help yourself. You crossed your arms and smiled smugly as lord Megatron smirked wickedly.

”Wise move, Autobot…!”

#transformerse #transformers animated #tfa #reader insert #reader #my story #writing #bulkhead #megatron #mixmaster #scrapper #isaac sumdac #lugnut #blitzwing #shockwave

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legendarysoulwolf · 6 years

Text

Story

(Universe: Transformers Prime)

(Warning: Cybertronian gore, mention of suicide)

(Cycle = 1 Year)

(Mega-cycles = 2.6 years)

(Nano-cycle = 1 second)

(Solar cycle = 1 day)

(Quartex = 1 month)

After the war, Cybertron had recovered as well as the inhabitants that had lived there. For several cybertronians, the war was something on their minds and seemed to stay glued there no matter what they did. Many medics were his way and Ratchet was no exception. Knockout hid his trauma well, claiming that he was fine and for the most part, that was true. However, another medic had separated from the rest, claiming that she had needed time alone and would rather it be the way it was before he war. While the Autobots didn’t completely trust the femme in question, many didn’t argue against her actions after what he had been through and to what extent.

Setting up shop on the outskirts of one of the many cities, Fireblaze stayed away from the public, becoming the doctor to go to for others who had decided to live away from the festivities and loud noises of the city. While she helped people survive any injuries, she also did the opposite. The first time she had been asked the request, she immediately said no. Thinking back on the memory, she felt herself shake her head at her choices.

“Absolutely not.”Fireblaze said firmly, her optics glaring at the mech in front of her. He fidgeted after her refusal and looked at her in sadness.”Please, doc! I can’t take it anymore! The flashbacks, the pain, the constant regret, it’s too much!” The femme suddenly got flashbacks of her own as she remembered her torture carried out by Megatron himself. She shook it off, hiding her shaking servos under the desk.”The answer is no.” She turned around, preparing to walk back and close the store for tonight.”PLEAS-“ “Do you realize what could happen if I am found out!? I will be locked up! These people who get hurt out here won’t have a reliable doctor to go to!” She yelled back. She looked at how sad and broken the mech in front of her was. He hadn’t thought of that.”Look...” The mech picked up his head in hope.”I can’t help you. I understand how you feel. The war was long and difficult. We were all effected. But...I can’t take such a big risk. Not when so many others need help.” The black and blue mech nodded slowly, understand where she was coming from. He got up from the desk and turned around, walking to the door that opened automatically opened for him. Once he left, the door closed, the femme leaned against the wall, sitting down in a chair near her and held back her panic. The flashbacks were getting worse, the shaking wouldn’t stop and continued to last longer and longer each day. She growled at the realization and got up, closing up for the night and going back to her room. However, she wouldn’t get much time to shut down that night, for the mech would be back.

A series of loud bangs came from the door of the clinic, causing the femme to shoot up in attention. Her processor thinking attack before realizing that the war was over and there was no need for such alarm. She scoffed, laughing slightly to herself for her own delusion. The banging from the door reminds dher that someone was outside. She grabbed her glasses and walked out, opening the door remotely and jumping at who came in. Two mechs holding another one, both looking scared, stumbled into the front room. She ran over, tapping the side of the glasses to scan the injured mech being held by the other two and getting a diagnosis of what had happened.”We found him in his room like this. He was trying to off himself. Please, doc, I know it’s late, but-“ Fireblaze out a servo up to stop him.”Let take him to the back, I’ll do what I can back there.” She said and the two didn’t hesitate in following the femme to the back room and putting him on the berth. Fireblaze acres quickly, hooking the mech up to a bag of energon, making sure he didn’t leak out before she had the chance to save him.”What’s his name?” “Gear Winder.” She turned to the two friends and nodded.”Alright. I’m going to need you two to wait out in the front. This may take awhile. Ask Grim up front for anything if you need it.” She said, shooing the two out and leaving the with the question who the frag Thai Grim was. They’re question was answered when a small, Cybertronian spider waited at the front desk. The two mechs looked at each other, one wiping his tears, only for more to fall down.

Fireblaze moves quickly, thing to stop the leaking and nearly screamed when a servo caught her wrist as she reached over the mech on the berth.”Don’t..save me, doc.” The femme got a good look at Gear Winder and leaned back, her processor remembering who he was.”You...you came in earlier.” She said and the mech, who was nearly stable, nodded.”I wanted to die...they found me.” She couldn’t believe what was happening. This mech wanted to die so badly that he was willing to ask for her to simply let him power down, forever, while his concerned friends sat in the next room.”You have people that care about you...why do you want to leave that behind?” She couldn’t understand. Gear Wonder was being so...selfish! He had others who were worried about him, crying for his recovery and hoping to Primus that she could save him.”Its too much...I’m alive, doc...but whatever this is...it’s not living.” The femme felt that hit her hard. For cycles she had been thinking the same but to hear someone say it out loud was astonishing. She shook the though from helm and nodded.”Fine. Are you sure this is what you want?” She asked, putting her servo on the clasp that would stop the flow of energon from the bag to Gear Winder’s arm.”Its what I need, doc.” She flipped the clasp on the bag and the energon flow stopped. She let out a huff and looked at him as he smiled up at her. She looked away and after a few minutes, the mech had started to shut down.”Thank you..” She put her servo on his helm and nodded. After a few more nano-cycles, he completely shut down and powered off. She hung her head and took a moment to clean up before going out to the two.

She remembered the spark broken looks in their faces as she told them that their friend didn’t make it. Fireblaze didn’t feel any remorse when taking the life of Gear Winder, nor did she feel remorse when she told them the news. She just couldn’t believe that someone with friends who cared so much had wanted to leave so suddenly. It was the case with several others as well. Some mechs would come in with their friends and their friends would swear to secrecy that they would keeep their mouths shut about the operations behind the scenes. It astounded her more than anything. After seeing so many happily throw their lives away, she had to stop doing such things or else others would get suspicious. She didn’t hate it, but she didn’t love it. It was merely a pass time for her while she figured out her own problems. Being a Decepticon in the past had hardened her emotions and over time her remorse had gone away replaced with curiosity and fascination. She played her new Autobot role well. Saving those in need while also satisfying her curiosity for science. She dabbled in weapons here and there and she would be lyin if she said that she wasn’t hoping to find a significant other at some point. Whatever happened in the future was up to fate. She’d mere let be along for the ride.

#transformers #oc #story #tfp #decepticon #autobot

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canon-anon-roomba · 4 years

Text

Updated lore (Very DARk don't read if psychological, physical or just general vague description of abuse ain't your thing)

Anon comes from a planet of Cybertronian origin, on the edge of the galaxy, secluded from most paths of passing by ships. His species is related to those of Cybertronian origin, however years of evolution and habitats changed their looks and food intake largely. So, Anon has the ability to digest practically anything, and turn that into source of energy without producing any waste. Which is why he can't be poisoned.

His species way of reproducing is similiar to that of fanon transformer, but what is important to know that they have the ability to pass on knowledge of the creators off to their offspring. This takes a lot of energy, and sometimes it results in carrier and sparkling to be snuffed out. Hence why they ususally only have one offspring.

Anon's caretakers were undoubtedly wise and knowing creatures. They felt that cooking could solve most problems, bring together peace with rivaling planets.

Sadly they weren't very empathetic creatures. As soon as Anon could walk, he was taught to implement all his cooking knowledge. Anon is like a data base for every single recipe existing in the universe

They treated him more like their tool, and carting him around the galaxy to cater to others of their choice. They didn't have much love or care for him, mainly shushing him if he got fussy, and verbally berated him till he grew quiet and submitted to their authority.

Anon isn't his real name, his parents named him Dread. More to his namechange later.

So Anon grew up in a cold, and lonely environment. He never had a planet to call home as he was constantly switching places. The only constant in his life was his family, and the ship. He was never allowed to mingle with others besides mentors and his parents, his daily life was always set out for him. And it mostly involved cooking with little to no down time for him to relax or discover any hobbies. He only cooked meals, he never was allowed to talk to the guests or change up recipes.

Hitting 'teenage' years was when he grew rebellious, and frankly quite aggressive, escaping from his caretakers hold multiple times for a while. This only happened a few times, the last time he escaped was when his parents locked him in a locked and darkened room with no contact for a few days.

Then he stayed complying to their bidding until early adulthood.

So, Anon is now in his early adulthood. A quiet, but not timid, moreso a person that is filled with seething rage, but it's only boiling, not exploding. The way he looks and stands, showcases alot.

One day, they were traveling to their next destination, and they were passing by a planet. Curious as to why they weren't stopping there, he asked. The blunt and dismissive response was that that was Earth, and it was not worth their time there.

He decided then and there that this was his chance to escape. Gathering raw materials and food, he contacted Earth, asking for safety, explaining his situation. He was quite fortunate to have come into contact with the superior officer of the Secret Military force (idk the proper term). A quite lovely woman, who promptly told him the'd help.

Waiting for nobody to see him and scrambling his signal, he took an escape pod to earth. He took some time on earth in the care of the military to adjust and figure out what he would do, before coming to a decision. He realizes he has little to no social skills, and is very averse to being with others. He found he does quite like his skills, but his past affects him too much. So, creating a chip he implanted into his processor himself, he scrambled his entire memory, but only

Once scrambling his processor, Anon came across a rather unforseen consequence. He is no progammer or medic, so the chip he inplanted screwed up his system so badly, it damaged his pain and emotion receptors.

This wasn't really noticeable by the humans, that's why it went untreated. Before they let Anon go in the World, they made sure he understood social cues. They set him up to talk with a random person through anonymous means. The person didn't know what to call him, so they went with Anon.

Having had 0 knowledge of who or where he is, he took that name as something he can call for himself.

The Humans then set him up to have a guardian to overlook his work in his own restaurant, teaching him about earth's ways.

A blue screen was created for Anon to wear, as Anon had previously traveled to many, many, many planets, he wasn't exactly unknown. His prominent trade mark was his face, so he created a screen to hide it, so that others wouldn't recognize him. As he would forget that once his memories were corrupted, the people asked the guardian to come up with a reason for him to wear it. They also gave him a Serialnumber, to make it more believeable that the Government made Anon.

He took that into a dark direction.

The first words the Mechian heard when he arrived at the place basically stated he had to hide his awful face. Anon was timid and naive then, he had to re-learn everything, so of course he believed it. He was however stubborn, meaning he occasionally forgot to wear it when he would bring out food. The Guardian didn't like that, he was very irritated that a programmed robot couldn't take simple orders. He installed a shocker on to Anon, since it was difficult for a human to control a giant robot that way.

(cw dehumanization) Guardian didn't truly view him as a living sentient being due to that. He purely referred to Anon as an "It" or a "thing", and refused to call him Anon, despite the many attempts he tried to ask him to stop that. He only called him C00K-800T.

His Guardian used the shocker alot, but he usually took Anon outside since otherwise people would notice. He hated his job and he'd been forced into, but the pay was excellent.

In one of the early days of Anon's residence on Earth, his Guardian was berating him yet again for not using his screen, and using the shocker on him. By then Anon had learned to deal with pain, as not only did he use shockers on him, he also made Anon test out new drinks for the E.T Customers. 8/10 times they were acidic, burning Anon from the inside out. But he had to stay silent, otherwise he'd get chastised. So even if he is about to pass out from pain, you wouldn't notice he was until it was too late.

At that moment when his Guardian was hurting him again, he was saved by a Cybertronian that happened to notice them. His Guardian retreated quickly back inside, and Anon became more aquainted with his rescuer. It was the Autobot Wheeljack, who happened to be based on Earth at that point. What Anon couldn't remember was that Wheeljack was the same young bot he met on Cybertron. Wheeljack started coming more often over to the Restaurant, to Anon's joy. They quickly became friends, and helped eachother through bad times. Anon was always left alone at night, and had trouble finding sleep, so Wheeljack would keep him company there. Anon tought Wheeljack how to cook, and he in turn tought Anon how to fight.

They formed a tight bond, trusting eachother with their lives quite early on. Wheeljack was keeping Anon sane, his Guardian continously kept treating him worse, he felt utterly miserable.

Until one day when Anon finally snapped. When he was being terribly berated again, he lashed out, killing his Guardian. He instantly regret it though, since he still did look up to his Guardian, despite the bad treatment. His guilt and regret was crippling, and he didn't know what to do.

So he went to the one person he trusted the most, Wheeljack, for help. He took him in until he got back on his feet again, adopting him into his family he was gradually building up. They became brothers.

Through his now turned brother and new found family Anon learned to find other things that interested him, to discover himself. He found himself pulled to the artistic sides of hobbies, enjoying dance, singing and theater. But cooking remained his passion, wanting to still pursue it, but to do it how he pleases.

During that time he met another bot, who had adopted a human name, Philipp. He was an Author and a Researcher, finding great Interest in Anon. They got to know eachother, and Philipp showed romantic interest in him after a while. Anon, experiencing that for the first time, immeadatly jumped into whatever Philipp wanted. Their Relationship went so far that they even became Conjunx Endura. But Philipp was just holding a social experiment with Anon, and left him abruptly one day, leaving Earth at that.

Anon was heartbroken for a while, not daring to go into any relationship out of fear of betrayal.

To distract himself he completely renovated the restaurant, adapting is so that any species could come in and dine, from human to E.T, all were invited. He passionately created dishes, and found great joy of seeing other people genuinely enjoy it.

At some point, Wheeljack abruptly left Earth, never to be seen or heard again. While Broken Hearted, Anon knew Wheeljack wouldn't have stayed long anyway, so he presses on forward, making and getting happiness for himself.

Remaining things of his past are that he constantly wears the screen, not being able to bring himself to show it to strangers. He trusts his family enough to be without it around them, but otherwise no chance.

#cw psychological torture #cw physical abuse #tw physical violence #tw psychological trauma

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black-strike-otp · 7 years

Text

part 55

Ooooh bitch you thought >;33333

Nestled into formidable dark armor, Novastrike released a sigh of euphoria. Between the late jours spent snogging, the much-needed wash thereafter and a comfortable drift in a dreamless deep recharge, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to spend the leisure time given to them. Her spark was chanting a quiet harmony as she arched, radiating a loud purr that only added to the shivers that trembled through her spinalstrut as Blackout’s arm squeezed her a bit closer.

He’d chosen to keep his holoform active while they rested. One arm was wrapped snuggly around Nova’s shoulder and part of her back so that his servo rested against midriff. With a dashing smile of warmth just for her, he pressed a kiss against her forehead as his other servo held one of hers against his chassis.

Their digits wiggled against each other’s and Blackout gave a tranquil chuckle as his femme nuzzled her face against his chassis. He could only just barely make out the sound of her spark. A melody unfitting for him to hear. In fact, other than his own and Scorponok’s perhaps once or twice, he couldn’t ever recall hearing anyone else’s spark sing before.

But hers, Primus, hers sounded celestial. Far too holy and alluring. Soft on the audios and gentle as it pulsated.

He was aware that the monstrous hymn of his own spark was playing. No where near as ravishing or enticing; the low bass striking cords that probably could only resonate with that of a black hole. The music of his soul was shrouded by layer upon layer of thick armor however; so Blackout was left to hope Novastrike couldn’t hear the sound.

Drifting her servo over Blackout’s chassis, Nova pressed her mouth against the nape of his neck softly. She could just barely make out the hushed echoes of his spark here and there. The moment she kissed him though, the song of his spark was entirely lost to her as Blackout uttered a playful growl.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I handsome devil?” she breathed between light pecks she pressed against his throat.

“Mmmhh... even if you were, the idea as to what has left my thoughts long ago.”

“Does that mean you should be checking in with Guard or Neutroboost?”

He gave a muted snarl in response, shifting his helm just enough to catch her lips with his own. Her mouth began to tug into a smile against his, and Blackout smirked in return.

“I’m entitled to a break,” he remarked in that tranquil voice; noticeably lacking the gravelly afflictions. “If Guard really needs me, he’ll let me know.”

“Goodness,” Nova breathed against his mouth. “Whatever would the old Blackout, proud stickler for the Decepticon code and abidding by laws and order and time ever say to this new, relaxed Blackout?”

A deep chuckle resonated through the large mech’s chassis, bouncing off of Novastrike’s armor and vibrating inside her.

“Who cares,” he all be purred, pressing a kiss to Novastrike. “Tell me him to get fragged.”

“Maybe fragging the right femme would have changed his mind sooner, so he’d stop and take care of himself more hmm?” she teased, running her glossia against Blackout’s lower lip.

“Fragging the right femme surely would have made him rethink his priorities a whole lot sooner,” he agreed quietly, insisting on stealing the breath right out of her as he stole a sinfully provocative kiss. Slow, sizzling, and extraordinarily gentle.

That same, unusual rousing in his spark started up again. The unidentified emotion ensnared everything in Blackout’s processor. Every ideal, every philosophy, every theory, opinion, sentiment, memory. It clung to him. He felt life soak into his veins. A catalyst had been struck aflame and he was on fire yet completely serene, bathed in water and moonlight.

He lost everything. Cybertron, his honor, his pride, his own emotions and himself over the years. He even lost his reputation and his rank within the Decepticons.

But he gained something more, something far too precious.

~Days Later~

The droning conversation of bots hardly made it to Novastrike’s audios. Datapad in servo, she was skimming through some of the training files that had been issued to her from some of the bots for review. It gave Blackout a little more freedom if she could just go over this stuff for him and give him a debriefing on what she noted and what bots needed to work on while he was busy on the brig, or commanding bots.

A quiet chatter captured her attention beside her. Reaching out, the little femme lightly brushed her servo against Scorponok’s helm.

“Hey there buddy,” she whispered gently. “Getting a bit lonely without your pal, huh?”

Blinking his optics out of sync, the scorpion gave a whirr in response. She couldn’t decipher if that was a noise of agreement or not. Either way, the minicon that rivaled she herself in size scooted a bit closer and furled his appendages against his body as he rested his helm against his side.

“Awww, Scorp, I love you too,” Nova murmured, pressing a kiss against the side of the small mech’s helm.

The little mech’s golden spherical optics lit up. He gazed up at her with clear shock. A sudden chatter emitted from him; metallic and loud.

“What? What’s with all the noise, hey-”

A quiet laugh escaped the small femme as Scorponok extended himself to the tips of his pronged legs and rubbed his helm against hers. Ana affectionate chime followed thereafter as the bug coiled his tail around to spiral somewhat around her frame.

“All you soft big bad mechs,” Novastrike giggled, scratching along the bug’s back and the small space between his helm and frame. “Always making such a fuss about restraint and keeping up appearances, but look at how sentimental all of you can be.”

“A good femme,” Scorponok chirped happily. “We lucky to have.”

“Oh, you think Blackout’s lucky to have me, hmm?~”

“Different life. Bit simple. But happy. Happy counts most.”

“Well I’m glad I have the both of you in my life too,” Nova whispered quietly with a broad smile. “You make my life a lot happier, too. And a lot bigger; more interesting.”

Tilting his helm to the side, Scorponok pulled his helm away from hers. She could only look to him with some puzzlement as he swung his tail back to its usual position. There was something about his optics that was commanding; sternly looking her over.

“He come around soon.”

The smile on the little femme’s faceplate grew less assured now. “What do you mean by that?”

“You see.”

With that, the vague bug turned away and scurried over to the recruits in the room. Novastrike watched him go with the confused smile on her face.

We’ll see. See what? What in Primus name did the bug know that she didn’t?

Looking down to the datapad offered out to him, Blackout raised an optic ridge. He accepted the pad, wondering why in Primus name a personal datapad from another bot was being handed to him. What was the point of this when they could easily just message him whatever it was they wanted to say?

“This is from Guard,” the courier instructed. “He wanted to make sure you got it. For your optics only.

His optics only, huh? A heavy weight felt like it had landed upon his chassis. Satan’s gaze raised up to the mech and back down to the datapad curiously. There had to be something significant and classified if this wasn’t even being sent out in a message to him.

“I’ll get right on it, thank you,” growled the large mech with a nod.

The emissary gave a salute, fueling a wave of discomfort that burned through the commander. He was all but too reminded of a time when bots were required to do that to him. Anybot who showed a sign of disgrace to him as a superior; did not worship he walked on or sucked up to his aft, was subject to punishment. Even if he didn’t care for their idol worship, if any other commanding officer in the Decepticon army saw him slacking off on dealing punishment, he was given his own lick.

For if bots thought they could walk all over one officer, who was to say they wouldn’t take advantage to walk all over them all?

Shifting awkwardly, Blackout watched as the mech hurried out of the command room. A few of the bots who’s consoles were closest to the sizable chair Blackout held near the helm were looking to him with anticipation.

Not about to disregard Guard’s trust in him, Blackout turned the chair away from the onlooking optics.

Tapping the file, Blackout raised an optic ridge as a square box appeared and the scanner light flashed on. He shifted his optics to the side. This definitely had to be important.

Raising the datapad up, Blackout remained still as it scanned over his optic. Giving a positive reading as his optic flashed across the screen in the box, the message opened.

Scrolling with his thumb digit along the message, Blackout’s optics darted back and forth as he took in the Cybertronian words. It had a regular debriefing on it; some words of praise peppered here and there in the beginning, and then Guard’s language begin to shift.

“I fear the results of findings on our energon thief may soon be upon us, and the development of our suspects worries me greatly. The gap in data and list of individuals grows shorter every day. Repeated offenses of more than one possible individual keep coming up, but one startles me more than the others.”

Blackout skimmed further down the page.

“... I will be authorizing an investigation into a particular individual soon. If my suspicions are proven correct, I urge you to stay out of the matter as much as possible...”

“... You should know that I have total faith in how you’re leading the ship. However with the instability he’s been showing lately, I hope to be wrong, but I believe the bot responsible for the burglary is-”

Before Blackout could finish reading the sentence, florescent red lights began to flash through the command center. Turning his chair quickly around, Blackout looked to the team of bots in the room.

“We’re picking up a signal of a ship coming out of hyperspace,” a femme reported.

Another mech looked up. “Guard’s pinging the bridge, sir.”

“Put Guard on,” Blackout rumbled, turning down his audios as the racket from the alarms began to blare. “And turn off the alarms; the sound is deafening.”

A crackle of static briefly came through the room as the comm system came online. The alarm died out just as Guard’s voice began to speak:

“What’s going on? Why are the alarms going off?”

“We’re looking into it sir, sorry for the disturbance,” Blackout responded in a stern voice.

A mech looked up from his scanners with surprise. He met Blackout’s gaze, opening his mouth slowly before finally speaking.

“The readings come off the ship exiting transwarp is one registered on the Rising Star’s log.”

“And?” Blackout pressed.

“It’s the Revenge II,” he reported grimly. “Stormstalker’s caught up to us. He’s found us, sir’s.”

#quid pro quo au #OTP AU #OTP Lit #Cute OTP

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illogicalshockwave · 7 years

Text

A soft hum travelled through the air as Trepan returned to the lab after a week away, keying in the lengthy and complex code to lower the alarms and triggers when entering the heavily guarded ship. It had been an immensely profitable excursion strengthening bonds with mercenaries and pirates as well as securing a consistent supply of mid grade energon to keep the lab stocked for both himself and his partner. After such a strenuous trip, it was reassuring to be back within walls and hallways he recognised as home.

The air felt warmer than usual- something he noted with increasing interest as he proceeded towards the elevator without hesitation, pausing only to log in his access key to the lift. The ride to the floor where the lab was contained was short, the doors swishing open with minimal resistance as the white washed sterile looking walls came into view. Trepan paused at the lift, glancing around at the silence until he spotted his significant other hunched over their desk and completely focused on whatever information flitted across the screen at a terribly high speed. Upon further inspection, they were transmitting files directly to their mind, hardlined into the machine with a small blackened cable.

Ah.

Trepan knew better than to interfere, returning to his own personal work station he had been gifted after becoming one of the few trusted mechs able to work alongside the ex-decepticon scientist in his official laboratory. Everything had been kept clean and free of dust he noticed with a half smirk, a lingering glance cast over at the still connected Shockwave. Any datapads on his desk had been untouched save for a regular cleaning, organised in terms of urgency, chronological occurrence and alphabetical ranking- just the way he liked it.

Slowly but steadily, the surgeon began his own work flow, sifting through each one and contacting the corresponding clients via private intercoms, messages pinging back and forth in a cyberspace the more righteous of bots had no idea existed.

By the time there were 3 data pads left, his optics dimmed as the lab entered it's night simulation setting- something Shockwave had installed to help regulate recharge cycles in rooms where there were no exterior windows to view the outdoors with. It helped keep track of time, and not interfere with the regular cycles a Cybertronian should be keeping when functioning correctly. In actuality it was simply dimmer lighting, the white walls fading to a lighter paynes grey as the transition slowly took hold. Lowering his data pad onto the desk Trepan got up to check on Shockwave only to be gently pulled into an embrace.

"...Heh. Did you miss me?" Trepan murmured, recovering from the initial surprise. With a silent nod, Shockwave knelt down slowly so they were optic level with one another, clawed servo resting on the lower section of their spinal strut. Trepan leant forward, finials flicking subtly in adoration as the two shared a tight hug. Two powerful arms encircled the surgeon's frame in its entirety but there was no other place he felt safer. Smaller, more dainty servos ran along the scientist's back they had bent down so much, digits idly teasing along wires and the wings which Trepan adored to play with. A dull purr resonated from Shockwave's upper chassis, Helm nuzzling into Trepan's chest which caused him to laugh quietly. "Down Shockwaffle, or i'll use that crop like I promised."

Breaking apart but still in close proximity their fields melded together in the first time that week, eagerly washing over the other in perfect harmony. It almost hurt how much Shockwave's loneliness had built up without him around. Bit by bit it though it eroded away with each reassuring wave Trepan's field sent out, crumbling into a feeling of intense adoration and affection until the loneliness was just an unpleasant distant memory.

"I missed you too you know..." The smaller bot admitted quietly, stroking along the underside of Shockwave's helm and pressing a kiss to each side, causing him to dim his optic and angle his finials with a content hum. "Come. You've been at your desk for far too long..." Shockwave finally spoke up, picking up Trepan with ease as he balanced reflectively on their shoulder axis, wings used as a counterbalance with every step forward. "I can walk to berth quite fine thank you," Trepan pointed out with a hint of sass, disapproving stare crossing his features immediately despite the lack of fight in his system.

"You've been 72 terran hours without a successful recharge, and refuelling was 42 terran hours ago." If Trepan wasn't so annoyed with how accurate he was, he might of been impressed. "What have I told you about spying?" Shockwave's audials flicked back in guilt intermingled with determined stubbornness. "...I missed you." A tired vent exited the small surgeon, holding on a bit more than he needed to in secret enjoyment at the treatment. It was adorable such a large war frame fretted over his potential conjunx in such a way.

He didn't complain when a small cube of high grade was carefully pressed into his servos once in their private quarters- nor did he whine at the gentle prompting to leave his data pads behind and stretch gracefully like a cat over Shockwave's now chestplate-less upper chassis. The warmth of the exposed spark chamber of Shockwave warranted a grateful mumble, too tired to complete their regular recharge method of hardlining. Curling up around their new heat source, Trepan found himself increasingly struggling to remain concious. "Sleep," Shockwave bid him, servo coming to rest gently over their back.

For once, Trepan didn't argue.

#synopsis of the past (fiction)#trepan #just some feel good fiction

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