#Megatron indulges in being a provider
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Hi me again thank you so much for the merformers ideas!!! (Hopefully that lack of mer optimus will be filled soon, and if it isn’t soon i’ll be taking that into my own hands. I love him sm he deserves to be fishy). I really like your ideas!! Providing very very good inspo thank you sm mwah mwah. I will warn that this is supposed to be a pretty long fic, or even series of fics, and so it’s gonna be really self indulgent for me, especially with the ships (your minimegs idea is so brilliant and i might do it with minimus and someone else but i have a big soft spot for optimus and megatron being nasty together so), but i hope soon i’ll have at least a bit done and can post it, get some more merformers fics out there, since i do agree there’s a deficit (also can i say i love the licking the inside of the mouth idea, it’s so good. I’m taking it. Shamelessly)
- Robooby
wooo i'm glad my ideas were good enough lol. do take the licking mouths thing, i would love to see it in a fic. please write the merformers fics. we are dying over here we need them. make em as self-indulgent as u want
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Megop Week 2023
June 17th, Day 7
Mercy/Freedom
Optimus decided to reveal a major secret of G.H.O.S.T to Megatron. What will become of them after the revelation?
Thank yall so much for reading my entries for MEGOP week 2023. Im so happy to have written for every day (despite the time). Not only do I love Megop, but this is the most consistent I've been with writing for years
Thank you to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged my work, hope to get more out soon!
“Another successful mission was it not?” Optimus beamed, slinging a large arm over Megatron. Megatron let out a gruff chuckle, “Sure sure, if you call me having to cut you out of a cement block successful.” Optimus laughed at that, but soon Megatron’s attention was drawn elsewhere.
He looked around for any sign of Thundercracker, their latest capture. He was more than surprised to see no sign of him, despite seeing him carted off in a G.H.O.S.T van to their same location. “Where do you suppose they take them after we’re done fighting them?”
Thank Primus he missed Optimus’ nervous gulp as he spoke. “Im afraid G.H.O.S.T doesn't quite trust us enough to indulge that information.” doesn't quite trust you more like it. Megatron only glared at the shut doors, a small window giving way to Thundercracker’s scared face.
“Is that right?”
Already he was turning down the way to his training room. Not the wisest decision after being knocked around during a mission, but Optimus knew well enough what that meant. He sighed, walking the way with Megatron. “Look, Megatron–”
“Look Megatron,” the ex-Decepticon repeated, “You shouldn't be too quick to judge them. G.H.O.S.T has already provided us so much, surely we can trust that the Decepticons are being kept in well condition.” He turned with a cross of his arms. “Is that along the lines of what you were going to say?”
Optimus couldn't help but shrug a bit in acknowledgment. “Perhaps in a less sarcastic tone but . . yes, yes that is what I was going to say.” Goodness, he must've given a lot of speeches like that for Megatron to steal the words right out of his mouth. He sighed, “But I would mean it the same.”
Megatron protested, “And if that were the case, then what’s the harm in saying anything to us? We help capture them, we’re owed at least what happens to them.” His eyes burned with a determination that Optimus was a bit worried about. He couldn't help but let the truth slip out, “Unless . . .”
“Unless?” Megatron tilted his helm. Sure enough, that simple word made a very apparent point as it crossed Megatron’s face. “Unless they don’t trust me. Is that what you’re saying? Afraid an ex-Decepticon would take pity and free his former followers?” Optimus fired back, “Well, Im not the one who said that. That was all you.”
Megatron shot him a look, quickly making Optimus’ finials fall back. “A-Apologies, dear.” Optimus stood more straight, approaching the situation with a bit more concern for his lover. “Megatron, I trust you, you know that. And I understand you want better for the cons but . . .” he sighed heavily. “Every one of them we’ve encountered again has gone out of their way to try and kill you. Maim you even. We let go of Frenzy and the other cassette bots only for them to still reappear fighting us.” He recounted and placed a hand on Megatron’s shoulder. “You still care so much, and I truly admire that but why to the extent?”
Megatron’s own gaze softened as he spoke. “I owe it to them Optimus. I got them into this mess, left, and naturally, they’d be more driven by my betrayal than a chance to reform.” Optimus couldn't help but pierce his lips. It hurt seeing how to spark Megatron was taking this. He frowned for a moment, as Megatron continued.
“Now I can’t even ensure their safety. They deserve mercy, Optimus . . . and I feel like a fool not being able to guarantee that.” He sighed heavily.
Optimus couldn't help his own guilt, and spoke, assuredly. “Megatron, I . . . I believe there is something I need to show you.”
—
Optimus was lucky the lift continued to work after hours, quiet as he guided Megatron inside. The floors ended after a certain number, but a few clicks of different combinations sent them deeper down. Megatron felt a turning in his intake as they descended. “Prime?” He was a bit more worried just seeing the stone-cold look on Optimus’ face. It was so unlike him, and it only made their circumstances a bit worse.
“Prime what are you–” he gasped, as the lift jerked, hitting the bottom and opening slowly into darkened corridors, a cold stale presence in the air. Megatron looked ahead, optics widening in something akin to sheer terror. There ahead on each side lay rows and rows of field cells, all growing alive at the sight of the two.
Decepticons banging on their cell walls, shouting all sorts of curses at the Autobots as they walked. “They were . . . down here? . . . All this time?” The words came out slowly as he moved, gazing at every one of their faces.
“TRAITOR!” Soundwave yellde, smashing his shoulder into the wall.
“WAIT TILL I GET MY SERVOS ON YOU LACKY!” Novastorm yelled.
A roar from Skull Cruncher's cell alerted Megatron to stop.
He blinked for a moment, coming to a crushing retaliation. “They were down here . . . and you knew.” it came out, barely above a whisper.
Optimus spoke with the utmost despair. “I’ve . . . I’ve known.” he followed Megatron as he continued walking with him, right infront of Thundercracker’s cell, brand new. “And Im so sorry I didn't say anything. G.H.O.S.T assured me this was the best we could do, for now.” He tried to get just a bit closer to Megatron’s form. “I hate it, just as much as you do, I’ve been trying to find a better way to hold them, redeem them even.” He tried grabbing for his servo. “I just . . . I didn't want to hurt you.”
Megatron pulled away snapping, “And you think hiding my one concern was the way to do it?!” He glared, teeth bared in a grimace. “Captured? Rendered in prisons with barely any space under G.H.O.S.T.S footsteps?! In what universe did you think hiding this from me was a good decision?!” He yelled, alerting attention from the nearby cells.
“Megatron please, I–”
In the next moment, Megatron thrusted his arm cannon forward, charged up in Optimus’ face aimed to shoot. The captured cons all cheered for the sudden switch in the room.
“SLAG HIM!”
“TEAR EACH OTHER APART!”
Optimus stepped away, little by little while Megatron lurked towards him. “Megatron, please.” He reasoned, “I swear it when I say I didn't want this.”
“And you did nothing!” He yelled, the faintest trace of glossy tears filling his optics. “You stood by, let G.H.O.S.T take the reigns over my burden and imprisoned them!” He stopped once Optimus was backed against the wall of the prison.
Optimus stared first at the heartbroken face of his love, and then down at the floor in dismay. “You’re . . . you are right, Megatron.”
“Damn right, I am.” Megatron hissed out.
Optimus moved his servo up against the wall, resting on a large switch. Megatron’s glare weakened slightly. “They deserve mercy.” Optimus flipped it, humming around the floor dying as the cell walls went down freeing the captured Decepticons.
For a lack of better words, Megatron was stunned, lowering his still-charged arm cannon. “What–” he yelled out, once Optimus grabbed his arm, aiming it up again at the opposite wall and blasting a hole open through it. The air around them rumbled with warm charged electricity.
Soon enough, Megatron was being pulled by his arm back into the lift, Optimus working fast to shut the doors before any escaping Decepticon decided to enact revenge right then and there.
Once they were alone, raising back up, he let out a heavy breath. “I . . . I mean it when I said I’m sorry, Megatron. Letting them go, perhaps wasn't the best decision, but I . . . I thought–I wanted.” He was interrupted by Megatron grabbing his face plating, and pulling him into a deep kiss.
Optimus’ optics widened, about to wrap his arms around the ex-Decepticon, before Megatron pushed him away, with a harsh punch to the shoulder. “That is for still lying to me.” He hissed out coldly.
Optimus rubbed his shoulder, “I deserved that.” But he could catch the slight smile on Megatron’s face plates before it faded again with resolve. “G.H.O.S.T will likely start an investigation . . . send us out to capture them all over again.”
Optimus’ finials drooped, speaking out loud, “Yes I truly . . . truly didn't think this through. What do you suggest we do, when it comes to your burden?” He moved a servo a bit closer since he hadn't the opportunity down in the cells.
Megatron hummed, reaching to hold the Autobots servo. “Ask me in the morning. Before the other shoe drops.” He spoke, staring down at the ground.
Optimus gave a sad smile, squeezing his servo. There wasn't much to say, the two of them seemingly standing at a dead end.
At least, despite the closest of calls they were together.
They were together.
Still.
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Northwind Quarter AU Introduction
Hello and welcome to the Northwind Quarter/Pirate Bay AU blog. What is this blog about you ask? Northwind Quarter is a Transformers/Humanformers AU set in a pirate themed historical fantasy setting. Most of the characters and story beats are inspired by Transformers Prime, though there will be some extra faces from other continuities.
Synopsis:
This AU follows Starscream, a fearsome pirate granted immortality by Primus. His life is sustained by his own heart, which has been locked away in a treasure chest, so long as the heart persists, so does Starscream’s life. He can come back after death, and regenerate his body, though it takes a heavy toll on his psyche.
This story will focus on Starscream’s life, and the people he meets, his friends, lovers and enemies.
Some warnings:
-This AU will contain a lot of suffering for poor Screamer. It heavily features and depicts GORE, VIOLENCE and ABUSE. There will be discussion and depiction of sex, as well as sexual abuse and rape in certain instances. If that is not your thing we heavily encourage you to block any trigger warning tags that contain these topics.
And we strongly encourage minors to avoid the more mature tags.
-This is not a ’Starscream is an innocent angel who did nothing wrong’ type of story. He suffers far more than he deserves, yes, however we recognize Starscream as a morally complex and grey character, and this story will be an exploration of that. We want to see no ’oh he deserves it’ in the interactions.
We will try to cover these darker topics with as much tact and respect as we can.
-Megatron features heavily as the antagonist of this story, and he does some very morally reprehensible things. If you dislike or are uncomfortable with Megatron being portrayed as an abuser, this isn’t the blog for you. Simply block and move along, no starting shit in replies or asks.
-This AU features a LOT of romance and relationships. We will provide a list below.
There will be a tag list and trigger warnings further down, please read carefully and curate your experience.
Ship list:
Starscream/Knockout/Breakdown/Skyfire/Wheeljack/Shockwave/Soundwave (yes, all seven of them in a big ol’ polycule, Star deserves six boyfriends)
Megatron/Starscream (In an unhealthy and abusive dynamic, sorry no cute moments for these two)
Optimus Prime/Ratchet (the old codgers in love)
Arcee/Slipstream
Windblade/Chromia
MODS:
Mod Toon Intro:
Hiya, name’s Toon! My main is @toon-topaz
I’m 20 years old and my pronouns are she/they. I’m one of the evil masterminds behind this AU. What can I say, Starscream is really fun to draw get beaten up hehe.
You can find posts made by me under #mod toon and my art will be under #toon’s art
Mod Chip Intro:
Hi, my name's Chip, I'm 23 and I never learned how to read. I use They/Them and my tags are #mod felonic and #mod felonic art
Find me @felonius-glitch where I draw and just vibe!
I'm just your average Starscream Whump enjoyer who likes to feed this au Angst (and fluff) Fodder!
TAGS N’ TRIGGER WARNINGS:
#pirate bay au- general tag for the au
#not pb - content unrelated to the au
#pb constellation - ship tag for Starscreams polycule
#mod toon - posts made by Toon, art tag is #toon’s art
#mod felonic - posts made by Chip, art tag is #mod felonic art
#whump - Starscream suffering
#fluff - cute and fluffy stuff, nothing angsty in here
#nsfw - general nsfw tag for sexual topics and extreme gore
#gore - stuff involving gore
#tw SA - Sexual assault trigger warning, block this tag if you don’t want to see discussions of that stuff
#tw eyestrain - images that may be hard to look at for photosensitive folks
#tw death / #tw death mention - Anything involving or mentioning death (which is a lot for this au)
#tw abuse / #tw abuse mention - If y'all wanna see #whump but don't wanna see any mentions of the actual abuse!
#tw sh / tw suicide - For mentions or depictions of self-harm or suicidal tendencies
#Q-tlass - queue tag
That's all for now, hope you enjoy our self indulgent lil AU :D
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Optimus getting pampered because he deserves it-
We love that boi-
💖Oh! Oh 💕a stranger 💖who loves💗💕me! Ohhhhh!!! OHHHHHH, I love you 💗💝too ✨stranger💞
💘Thank you for this chance to project💘
I shortened it to heck and back, please believe me, but this is fic length, again.
I’ve also been sick for a couple weeks and really channeled that humiliation into ruining Optimus here. He’s baby to the max.
✨Warnings are in the tags✨
💕Thanks everyone💕
——- ————- —-
“Are you paid hourly, sniveling whelp?”
Optimus tilted his helm up towards the blur of navy and violet, looming in tall, twisted shapes above him.
This particular Decepticon apparently had much to hate him for -maybe more so than Sentinel at times. Thankfully, Optimus had learned this mech would never dare to pose anymore a threat to him than being an infinite source of insults and condescendence. Much like Sentinel...
And while he hadn’t a clue what he’d done to offend him so, this was thankfully a normal enough occurrence that Optimus knew he wasn’t in any real danger. Which was good, because he could barely suffer to stand upright at the moment.
Optimus, in his haggard state, only then remembered that he was holding a very breakable datapad in hand and scrambled with pitifully shaky servos to right his grip. Somehow this minuscule task was an entire feat to accomplish. It predictably earned him a sneer from the other mech.
As far as this ‘Cyclonus’ with all his unrepressed hate, standing there only half expecting to get a real reaction out of the smaller bot went, Optimus figured he’d do well enough to give him his usual proud flick of the finial and continue his work. Seemingly unbothered. Seemingly undisturbed by tonnes of angry war frame that’d like to crack open his helm for invading his terf and enraging him by simply existing.
But right now, the floor was precariously close to spinning out from underneath him, and he couldn’t remember for the life of him what his work actually was.
7 cyberweeks of pathetic bits of recharge. Nothing solid, nothing deep enough to free up all the clustered data he’d tried to shove in on 14 hour shifts.
Getting used to life on the Nemesis, the work expected of him from the Magnus as the sole mech trusted enough to handle the raging rouge that was Megatron -while also not being a terrible loss if all his leaders’ worst fears that they were dealing with unreachable beasts in this truce attempt came true- had left him seriously sleep deprived.
There was plenty to keep him awake at night.
His leaders, for example, had left him with little faith in any of their futures. Optimus had known from the start of this arrangement he had a far better grasp on the genuine civility of war frames than an out of term council who were quite stuck in their ways. Including the likelihood an entire enemy faction were going to open up for them before they did a grunt with little say in anything without the desire for confrontation than the history books had shown his superiors had. Demanding respect, demanding conformance.
Obviously Optimus was just hoping to survive this ordeal, and made him leagues more approachable than the council did. In that sense, the route they’d chosen to take with his role here was a much better idea than their direct involvement.
It still pained him to think they’d be so eager to shunt him off with what they believed were hoards of dangerous, raving lunatics still. It’d definitely kept him from having a peaceful recharge for some cycles now.
He couldn’t say he was surprised they had, however. And there was evidently some consolation in admitting the roots of this bizarre culture of mecha to be undoubtedly absurd, and thus somewhat a lot of raving lunatics. They had absolutely proved to be unnatural forces of crazy-
But still quite reasonable. Still Cybertronian. Still worthy of a chance.
One rather ethereal creature from the dark depths of Tarn in particular had proven so.
Optimus would kick himself in the aft for prioritizing thoughts of Megatron of all horrid creatures over whatever he’d been standing in the command center at this hour for.
His struts ached, his vents rattled, his helm felt muddled and cloudy.
He could hardly make sense of what Cyclonus’ weary once-over meant -his lagging processor trying to focus much too hard on the datapad down in his servo and why he’d brought it in here.
After another beat of uneventful silence, the dark mech finally chose to move on with his gruesome morning, and Optimus watched him go.
“Don’t vorry about zat lu-lu.” Blitzwing chirped happily from somewhere behind him. Optimus would need to see the medic onboard about his shorting audio receptors when it came through with a touch of static.
Blitzwing carried on.
“He’s a bit of a vild card! Always causing a stir, ja?”
Optimus nodded like he knew all about the terror from the sky that was Cyclonus, and his supposed antics. Deciding then that a walk about the place would jog his processor back up to speed.
He moved a bit sluggishly, careful not to hover too long at someone’s shoulder.... Lest he make another enemy among these easily offended sparks.
Then someone, he couldn’t imagine what kind of Decepticon would be concerned for him in anyway -or if maybe he’d just hallucinated the voice whispering things in his audial in the first place- mentioned something about him being a hazard, and that he didn’t belong on deck in this state.
Which was war frame for, ‘You need a break, bud’, and Optimus couldn’t help but feel a bit endeared by it. Wheezing through ex-vents, or not, he was starting to recognize a place for himself here.
As for their lack of faith that he wasn’t about to tumble over the nearest control panel and send them all careening into a star, well... Optimus was terribly offended. Maybe he could have used a few more kliks in recharge, sure. But he could do his job!
Everyone needed him to!
Whatever that job was exactly....
He surely looked like a lost turbo-puppy, shuffling aimlessly about, finials dipping low. Out of breath from his rigorous traipse across 3 war frame sized stairs. Thankfully, though, he noticed a rather quiet spot that was practically void of bots at the top and center of the room, overlooking the organized chaos below.
Optimus hardly registered his pedes carrying there until he was nestled into the nice, dim quiet. His optics long since adjusted to the strategical use of black light on the main deck.
Having a moment to stop and rest, he found it the slightest bit easier to think up here. He took a labored breath that did nothing to clear his vents and held his datapad up to optic level.
He blinked down at the same header he strangely remembered reading over and over a few hours ago before the glyphs had started to merge and the room began to spin. Clearly he’d been in this poor shape for a while now and had had far too many chances to fix the issue. He deserved everything coming to slap him ‘round the faceplate for it.
Optimus stared intently at the pad like that would unlock all the secrets it possessed, staring numbly with helm swimming, until the datapad began to move father and farther away. Farther and farther, and then-
Warm, blissful silence.
——- ————- ————
Megatron had watched the little fiend stagger around the room in a kind of daze, wandering like he hadn’t spent the last 3 deca-cycles leaving his prints around the place. Pestering Megatron about ethical nonsense the entire time.
Clearly his processor was vacant enough not to know which way was up, as the little bot eventually came to stand on tired pedes beside him at Megatron’s throne of all places. Likely having moved there completely subconsciously in an effort to find somewhere quiet and soothing in his addled state.
His absolutely desolate state, really... poor thing wasn’t processing slag.
Megatron was surprised to find him take his place among him, wondering -hoping- if Optimus had perhaps *sought* his company out by some kind of instinct.
They certainly seemed to calm in each other’s presence under more cordial circumstances. Mostly notably during their occasional evening fuelings together where they entertained themselves by digging at some of their favorite tasteless literature -a hobby of sorts which they looked forward to, though the evenings were never actually planned.
And during the short briefings he’d decided at last to give the Prime a part in- the two quickly devolving into thinly veiled teasing in favor of committing to their very important work. Giving each other backhanded compliments until someone cracked and it turned in to full on sass and a mockery of the command room.
And during their trips across opposite ends of the near infinite ‘vessel from hell’, stopping when they came across each other to whittle away hours upon hours on stunted small talk, talk that Megatron would have sooner shot the jaw plate right off of anyone else who thought they should waste his time with. Optimus’ most common subject of interest being about how pretty the nearest constellation looked that evening.
Weirdly enough, running in to each other after having not seen the other for the length of that cycle doused the tension in something intimate. Those little talks always felt the most fragile and precious.
It was inevitable really. Wasting that time away doing nothing more than yammering about their ridiculous time on Earth in some kind of reminiscing that old friends do. Things that Megatron had hardly even made sense of at the time and felt strange and surreal they’d even shared those moments together -volatile as they were.
And sometimes it was them discussing their favorite theater (and Megatron’s endless surprise that Optimus even had such) until one of them remembered they were long overdue somewhere important.
Drawn to each other, like magnets.
Maybe, truthfully, he was romanticizing any time they spent together. Megatron was familiar -Optimus was likely only lured so easily by his company, because he was the only familiarity on an entire fleet of hostile faces.
But he could hope, because....
Well, because.... Because *Megatron* certainly liked having his company.
There, he breathed it into being. Couldn’t pretend it wasn’t so now that he’d spared so much thought about Optimus’ taste in defensive maneuvers over early fuelings, now could he?
Right now, though, the little Prime’s normally welcome presence was overshadowed by one anxious warlord with fists clenched, watching as the smaller mech began to sway.
The little fool hadn’t done a thing he’d been told about keeping his own schedule for recharge when he’d come aboard. The place was a chaotic mess, no one would be there to remind him to do ‘self care’ -a word that made most ‘Cons cringe away.
Of course, head strong, young and eager to prove himself, Optimus hadn’t listened... So sure he wouldn’t be struggling to keep up with powerful war type engines with enough stamina to work a kilocycle without a defrag (Megatron thought fondly of Shockwave).
Optimus simply had gone and overclocked himself like an aft. Megatron had noticed a disturbing pattern that involved Optimus not listening to anything concerning his health that wasn’t life or death. He’d seen a small instance of such when the bot showed blatant disregard for a gouging burn in his servo from his accidental contact with the lovely Sunstorm, convinced Ultra Magnus needed his report more than he needed emergency repairs. He couldn’t feel it, after all, so why couldn’t it wait another solar cycle?
For all his levelheadedness and practically, Optimus had failed further to recognize that sleep, at least, *was* life or death.
Well, then. Megatron, as a great and glorious leader, would just have to fix this mess himself. Possibly the only bot in existence that’d ever deserved Megatron’s kindness, and he wasn’t even cognitive enough to appreciate it.
A big, black servo engulfed a little, blue one and pulled.
Down went Optimus without a bit of fight in him, yanked right off his pedes and into Megatron’s lap. His optics had already offlined before he’d even landed, and he lay there silently, chest moving with every soft ex-vent.
Megatron shifted his thighs wider to offer more support to the little figure of exhaustion below, keeping him cradled. Observing the way his finials slipped lower down his helm and feeling rather enamored with the sight.
Getting Optimus in a state that wasn’t ‘suspicious’ or ‘cautious’ or ‘completely untrusting of a single mech in his vicinity’ was impossibly rare. It meant Megatron never got to see him with his guard down -something he’d have loved to see more of in their time on earth while they’d been at each other’s throats.
This look on him was surprisingly very much preferred -perfectly content to slumber away in his lap, unbothered, if Megatron didn’t know any better.
He couldn’t help but indulge in the sight of the little mech looking at ease, curling into his warmth. Incapable of being weighed down by the eternal war he seemed to wage with himself about whatever benign thing a pure spark had to guilt themself over.
The terror of Kaon, far too pleased with his new trophy however temporary, dared any curious optics looking their way that might settle for even a nanoklik a look of his own that promised slow, painful death. No one accepted his challenge and kept their helms down and about their busy lives.
Satisfied, Megatron looked down at his little menace from Iacon. The battered mech that’d both found his way onto Megatron’s pristine warship and -somehow- into the bounds of Megatron’s limited patience. And like a fool that wasn’t experienced for millennia in using good sense, Megatron had willingly opened both up to Optimus’ delightful presence, forcing them to allow him entrance and respect. Impossible to ignore.
Megatron would maybe admit he’d given in long before this truce and the bot’s position here.
Maybe around the time Optimus had snapped back at his attempts to break him with far too much confidence for a mech half his size. Maybe when he’d hauled him off his aft into custody with more nobility and honor than Megatron had ever seen an Autobot possess.
Optimus’ vents stuttered, worrying him further that something serious might be wrong.
Had he worked himself sick? Megatron had seen Lugnut do it -he’d seen Starscream do it.
He’d seen all his driven, loyal subordinates do it at one point or another.
This one was not the same, though. This one was small and easy to exhaust with pretentious has-beens like Ultra Magnus demanding the work of 5 mechs from him. From the few instances he’d seen him interact with the more sociable ‘Cons, he’d noticed Optimus was rather easy to guilt, too. Megatron had found that startling revelation quite a detriment to the little one’s health. A guilty Optimus, whatever had set him off, proved himself a workaholic and struggled to think of himself as more than just a cog in the machine. The ‘greater good’ outweighed the needs of the overworked few.
Megatron had no doubt in this case he had worked himself to sickness out of sheer guilt that some other bot might be even slightly inconvenienced by his absence.
Megatron bristled as he wondered who of his men could have put it in his processor that they mattered even remotely as much as Optimus’ well being did. Who was possibly more important than this weary one here?
A big, warm palm moved to fiddle idly with a windshield, stroking the glass, careful of its skewering claws. He received a tilted helm burying into his side in response.
Megatron was perceptive, and he’d directed that towards learning a bit about the thoroughly guarded bot below. When he considered every option, the chances were that Optimus had put the thought that he should be forgoing his health for the sake of his work in his own head. He seem predisposed to such from what Megatron had seen of Shockwave’s academy records of the Prime. Those very sensitive, very interesting records.
The little truck slumbered away. So frighteningly beyond the limits of a simple restful recharge with the hitch in his vents that Megatron was pushed to call in Hook. Fearful a permanent stasis was fast approaching.
Little fool....
—— ————-
Optimus awoke to a large warmth draped across his side, and the generous padding beneath his backstrut he could blearily make out as his berth. The pad felt near infinite, stretching on whichever way he sprawled, molding to his tired frame.
No.
No, not *his* berth.
Optics going wide, Optimus frantically looked over his surroundings, processor stalling when a visual feed finally made sense of things with smell and touch quickly following.
That large warmth was an impossibly large war frame lying a servo over him, pressed against his side. The smell of gun smoke, of something decidedly mech filled his olfactory. Without a thought he breathed deep, venting that heady mix deeper into his chest.
“You’re awake already?” Megatron -of all the horrifying creations in the galaxy- was sitting in a chair that’d been moved flush against the berth, so he could easily reach for his diminishing patient atop it.
Optimus willed his spark to extinguish then and there and let his frame sink into the padding, and further still, into oblivion.
Primus, just offline him now...
He clutched at the arm across him with hands he’d steadied through sheer force of will.
“I-where am I- what am I doing here- what are *you* doing here?”
“These are my private quarters, and I was told you’d be in recharge for at least a week.”
Megatron’s private quarters- with said mammoth of metal and muscle casually draping a servo over his unconscious figure? Great.
And this talk that he’d be in recharge for a week? A whole week?
Why in the Allspark would he-
Everything suddenly became more clear to him than it had since his steady decline of sleep on the Nemsis some deca-cycles ago. Awareness crashing into him all at once, cutting through his consciousness, and the unfortunate conclusion was-
“Oh... Oh no!” Optimus felt his spark sink to his tanks.
“I have to order rations for the crew on Kleese side! I have to secure a line between the expedition team that joined-“
In panic and sleep deprivation and whatever thing had made his helm all staticky, Optimus processor quickly got away from him.
“If we have another Phantom Fleet, it’ll all be *my* fault!” He cried, Megatron looking completely at a loss for *that* statement.
“I need to confirm I’m an available resource manager- they don’t even know I exist yet! They don’t have the proper facilities without someone to work the line! I have to report to Ultra Magnus- I-“ Optimus stopped with optics wide and rolled with great effort onto his side to level with the bigger mech.
“*How long have I been in recharge*?”
Megatron frowned accordingly.
“A few solar cycles.”
“No! *No*!” Optimus had to force himself to loosen his grip on the giant servo to keep from denting it. Easy enough, when defeat began to mingle with exhaustion.
He’d let everyone down, again...
That thought alone was enough to renew his vigor and send him practically crawling up the berth to escape Megatron’s hold.
“It’s too late, the expedition team will be starved to death already! I have to arrange a list of casualties-“
Free of one serval tonne servo, Optimus swiftly sat himself up, and was immediately met with a hot palm splaying over his chest plate. Pushing him back down with half the effort it’d take to restrain a fully functional Optimus.
“I have to get back, Megatron! The party have families waiting-“
“They’ve got everything they need, Prime!” Megatron said, half hysterical. The absolute delusion a frantic Optimus could conjure in his guilt. His *bizarre*, outlandish guilt.
“You aren’t the only communications source for my men- what an ordeal that would be.” Megatron had the audacity to roll his optics at the other’s mortal coil.
“But I-“
That servo moved from his chest to reach beneath him and lift his weakened frame just enough to stuff a pillow that was definitely not standard issue for the common rabble underneath his helm. Optimus’ aching shoulders fell into it gratefully.
Megatron continued to undo the tension tying him into knots with more of his usual bleak, hopeless reassurances. The ones Optimus was oddly endeared by and appreciated the familiarity of, despite the cold honesty.
“This alliance between our people is a glorified test run, and, inevitably, an excuse to continue the war when your leaders choose the most damning evidence you’ve unwittingly presented to them these past cycles to declare us ireedemable by Primus. And further, a wasted effort. Others far more capable at the moment have your position filled, Optimus Prime.”
No, Optimus wasn’t sure his leaders were actually so eager for the war to wage on- more like they had little to no hope an alternative was truly possible.
Which, why send him here in the first place then?
It was at that moment Megatron’s shameless spark burst to life, and a thick digit reached out to tentatively trace over the vents in Optimus’ abdomen. Up and down, crossing over the dull, bladed edges of his grille with a ‘clink’ when his claws caught over each fold. Careful not to bare down.
“W-what are you,” Optimus cleared his vocalizer and pushed that warm palm putting a flutter in his tanks away.
“What are you doing?”
‘It’s me, Optimus. Not that you remember my name when it doesn’t explicitly suit you.’ Was what he’d wanted to say. But how *exactly* could he deny how weirdly intimate their encounters had been as of late, anyway?
What with long, pointless conversations at late hours in empty corridors about Megatron’s extensive exploits from long before Optimus’ creation. Or asking, perhaps a bit too forwardly, to hear of his recreational works -which Megatron would deny him, though clearly flattered all the same. Or actively seeking the other’s gaze to share an eye roll with at the insanity of morning refuelings with all the ‘Cons who’d happily see each other pushed down a quarry forced to interact, providing endless entertainment of the violent sort.
One more unabashed display from this deplorable mech was hardly a surprise.
Even if this had been the first time their.... weird relationship had delved into this side of something genuine -like Megatron appearing honestly concerned for his well being.
Which was ludicrous, of course, but...
He had dragged him into his berth after all.
How and why had he ended up here, again?
Megatron looked unbothered by Optimus’ sudden shyness.
“I was merely trying to keep you relaxed. I need to keep you comfortable.” Megatron purred, like being in his berth wasn’t already questionable enough without *that* particular tone.
“Hook was quite clear that you needed ‘proper’ rest -and so, are you feeling content? How can I put your processor at ease?”
Optimus stalled.
Hook? The medic that’d threatened to throw Skywarp’s dismembered arms into a smelter instead of helping reattach them, but a medic no less? Optimus could only figure he’d fainted then, since he was missing such a large chunk of his memory in the time before Megatron’s overwhelmingly big berth was all he’d come to know.
And if the medic involved had assigned him here, then he’d been put on berth rest...
How humiliating.
Now he wished he’d just taken the extra care to recharge before he’d passed out in front of his superior.
His superior? Was Megatron even? Optimus was incredibly grateful his role and orders when given this position were so painfully vague now, and didn’t have to worry too much about his insubordinate streak towards both factions if it meant he didn’t have to consider *Megatron* his *superior*.
He made to move again, feeling he had to do *something*. He sat up again and got as far as swinging his legs over the edge of the berth before Megatron proved he was apparently happy to follow doctor’s orders for once -A miracle, considering the time he’d walked around on poisoned Energon once, refusing a system flush. He’d thrived off the contaminated fuel even, by pure spite to Starscream alone.
Optimus was really ready to get out of berth now.
“You’re staying here.”
Fantastic....
“Can’t I stay in my own room?” He pushed at the mech invading his space and blocking his escape.
“Certainly. And I will ensure you stick to doctor’s orders while you do so.”
Optimus’ finials tipped forward threateningly. Megatron ignored the pitiful display.
After a moment of unwavering wills clashing together and filling the expansive room with tension, Optimus had to sigh and swallow his shattered pride. Hoping this wasn’t the kind of thing he’d have to make a report about that would inevitably end up in the hands of Ratchet for future physicals.
He looked down at the big servo resting on the berth beside his thigh, waiting with deadly precision to jump out and snag him around the waist should he attempt freedom once more.
Controlling bastard.
“What sort of orders do I have?” Optimus growled, finials flat to his helm in an entirely different kind of threat.
“Luckily, the simple sort. And all very manageable by me.”
“You? You’re my keeper now?” Optimus hoped sassing would provoke the other into releasing him. Even if that was relatively hard to do.
“Can you afford to add ‘Nemesis Din Mother’ to your terrifying list of aliases?”
“I couldn’t very well afford ‘Forsaker of the Only Mech I Find Tolerable And At Times Reasonable’, now could I? But seeing as now isn’t one of your more sensible moments, I will assume the role as ‘Temporary Carer’.”
“Why?” Slipped out before Optimus could think better of ruffling the only bot concerned with his safety -and even with his scratchy vocalizer, he’d manage to sound quite demanding.
Who could blame him? With a history composed of violence and distrust once, this was the stuff of fever dreams.
Regardless, “Weren’t you listening?” was the significantly bemused response he received, and it was nowhere near satisfying enough an answer.
He supposed he would have to let ‘coworkers’ via ‘peace time’ be good enough a reason. As if that normalized being doted on in a work associate’s bed.
—— ———— —
Stuck in a berth on medical leave was one of the most painful experiences in Optimus’ lifecycle.
He was trapped there on special orders in a room where his former archenemy, who’d never bothered to remember his name at one time, could just waltz in and irritate him with news about the ship’s perfect functioning while their martyr took a much needed break. Aft.
Optimus could handle the sarcasm and pigheadedness -he’d gotten both from his Earth crew and Sari regularly. The awkward doting, however, when Megatron would bring him cubes and wait patiently (unnecessarily) for him to finish them before asking if he was still hungry was another thing.
As were the extra berth sheets that’d slowly started accumulating around Optimus, until he was practically lying fluffed up and wrapped inside a nest.
As were the corrosive polishes freshly bought and presented to him to use for a quick buffing when a private wash rack was a door away.
Confusing- mind blowing- so, so unnecessary- so, so humiliating.
He could have done without all this, yes, but he wasn’t sure if he’d have been saved the same fate if he’d demanded to suffer alone in his own quarters. Megatron was clearly actively seeking him out.
Finding the ex war lord locked inside his private room any other time was a rarity, ever present and foreboding someplace on the ship where there were blithering mechs to scare.
Now that Optimus couldn’t even get rid of him with Cyber-bear mace if he tried, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been something of a personal target of his since coming aboard the Nemesis. They did have a way of running in to each other, but *this*.... Megatron was always fluttering about his room now, having such important paperwork to do all the sudden -the sort he’d shuck off on Shockwave prior- and leaving Optimus to endure his frequent company.
Which wouldn’t be so bad- Optimus couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy the niche similarities they did share. Who else honestly thought tactical maneuvers was a fun subject? Or that the great wars the bigger mech had weathered made for interesting story time?
But the fact that he was spending hours lying uselessly around a cushiony little nest, accepting warm fuelings, Megatron’s personal literature, and allowing himself to doze to the sound of that baritone voice when there were bots upstairs working themselves to stasis -and not by their own doing- was just plain unacceptable.
“Don’t rush your recovery, Optimus. Your system functions need time to come back online- and to do that you need adequate recharge for all the cycles you missed. And fuel.” Megatron extended a servo to the pouting mech, holding a mesmerizing, swirling cube of Energon.
Optimus sat up, thoroughly reprimanded for acting like a sparkling, and peered over at the dazzling purple slush inside.
“And *that* is supposed to be adequate fuel?”
More than adequate- that was the problem. The ‘that’ in question was an Energon goodie, that much was obvious, and while still very unnecessary, he couldn’t help but wonder about its unusual contents.
Optimus reached for it and gingerly took a sip, finials pricked high upon his helm.
He savored the smooth, sugary gush, optics locked suspiciously on the terrible mech awaiting his approval. A smirk slowly forming.
“This alloy tastes like an Earth solution. Potassium permanganate?”
Very much not a thing a despiser of all things organic would keep aboard his ship.
Further more, no matter how good and sweet it tasted, a splash of medical grade human antiseptic had never occurred to him he might try as a junky little treat. How’d Megatron figure so? Where’d he even get it?
And why hadn’t he stopped taking sips already?
His pout was significantly less effective when plush lips were busy sucking down their fourth fueling in a cycle -and especially so, when it was laced with additives for substantially less health related reasons.
He should really stop accepting this kind of treatment. Maybe if he just reminded Megatron that frivolous expenditures had always been beneath him before Optimus’ self induced injury....
“I’ll fetch you another.” The larger mech said.
He turned towards the door and stopped abruptly to consider his own words. A momentary pause that was dismissed much too quickly for someone who once openly sang of the conquering of Autobot Tyranny and its desire to reduce his people to little more than giant, thoughtless pets, and then he was off to ‘fetch’ his drink.
Leaving Optimus almost inconsolably bewildered, and with a half full cube of treated Energon he’d hardly made a dent in tilted towards his lips.
The absurdity of Megatron practically self proclaiming himself Optimus’ new errand boy seemed to bring him to his senses a bit.
Was Megatron.... coddling him?
Coddling *him*? Optimus Prime?
And also, *Megatron* and *coddling*?
No, no, no, no. Now he was just being an idiot.
First of all, the frequent playfulness in their interactions -yes, he could admit their constant taunting of the other was hardly the stuff of unbridled hate these days- didn’t exactly mean he’d earned himself any special privileges. Optimus was still an inconvenience to him, put here in a measly attempt to keep some control over the affairs of adventurous, destructive war machines in the wake of a shaky truce.
It wasn’t like Megatron’s interest in him went farther than Optimus’ ability to offer him challenging conversation and fresh perspective (on matters he apparently wasn’t being taken seriously in managing here either. Surprise).
And those were Optimus’ own thoughts exactly on the dangerous ‘Con. Megatron was a fun challenge -now that he wasn’t hellbent on his destruction. He was a welcome change to Optimus’ stagnant life.
This surreal, shocking amount of care he’d shown on Optimus’ behalf -which was again, unnecessary- wasn’t anything as outlandish, as *impossible* as Megatron wishing to *coddle* him. To keep him safe and see him back to health once more. It was just.... he was just....
Optimus hadn’t a clue *what* he was doing. He only knew it wasn’t coddling for Primus’ sake. Though still very odd and very much a mystery -one that’d tear him apart at the seams until he had suitable answers. Make him question everything he’d come to know about the Decepticon leader and whether he was just an ambitious, presumptuous mech for even entertaining the idea-
And Optimus should *really* stop frying his circuits over all this and get some much needed recharge.
He sipped his cube with both hands, finally used to the sizable difference in the war class’ servos to his own. It was still warm and sweet, and it lulled him into a comfortable recharge, back down into the pillowy layers of his makeshift nest.
Happily oblivious to Megatron’s heated gaze when he returned with his fifth ration, taking enormous pride in having secured the little mech’s comfort. Though, one more sheet wouldn’t hurt.
——— ———— —-
He’d figured he’d survived the full insanity of his situation and came out on top when his subroutines reverted to his usual standard, and Optimus was able to go more than a few hours without rest again. It wouldn’t be long before he was his old self, and he’d be cleared for the bridge.
So why now, when he was capable of walking himself over to the washroom for solvent showers and fuelings cut to twice a cycle again, was Megatron ten times harder to get rid of?
Optimus couldn’t swing a thigh over the edge of berth before Megatron was subspacing his datapad and hurrying to his side. Offering a hand to take.
“I’m not completely dilapidated,” Optimus mumbled -which he never had been.
“You don’t have to worry about me falling apart if I walk to the mess hall.”
“Why are you walking at all?” Megatron countered and sounded ever so slightly annoyed at the prospect.
Like having a mech who was capable of getting up and walking around to fend for himself was more annoying than having an independent bot with near perfect functioning lying uselessly in his berth.
Megatron was perceptive, calculating. He could see that Optimus was doing fine now, and it was more than a little shocking that he hadn’t decided it time for him to move on and resume their work like normal honestly.
Optimus thought it time he ask him such.
“I can’t thank you enough for watching out for me,” He began, even taking the servo offered in a gesture of goodwill.
“But I’m good as new -more or less. I can handle myself from here on, so-“
“Allow me to see you to your destination.”
Optimus was cut off, and that was as much a sign as any that Megatron wasn’t leaving this up for debate. Which was *odd*, but fine with Optimus. He liked his company when it wasn’t centered around him being babysat like a mechling.
Optimus dipped his helm and shrugged.
“Fine. Maybe we can get some work done while we walk. I’d like to know where we stand with the crew on Kleese now. Are they receiving full necessities? I’ve noticed you war frames don’t prioritize medical leave in the event of an injury.”
Megatron would like to shake him unconscious and explain to him how that was the greatest hypocrisy of the seven centuries when he awoke.
He walked with Optimus side by side, watching him from the narrow corner of his optic. As if he thought Optimus might be about to bow over and faint any moment. The smaller bot tried not to grind his denta together too loudly.
“Everyone is accounted for, all resources at their disposal, and communications have not been met with interference. They have orders to explore further.”
“But they have access to the home ship at any time?” Optimus asked, as he began to tread a little more slowly.
“What if they go too far?”
Megatron seemed to find the idea amusing.
“You are the only civil frame in our ranks, Optimus. A war frame is capable of amazing arduous feats, immeasurable to the strength of your little engine.”
Not so immeasurable the most powerful of their class couldn’t be beaten down with the Magnus hammer, firstly.
And secondly, ‘part of their ranks’?
“I’m not actually assigned to a position in your military.” Optimus pointed out, finding it a bit difficult to say so. Why was the room getting darker?
Megatron only sighed whimsically.
“Unfortunately, no.”
‘Unfortunately’?! Optimus gawked.
He would argue that the council couldn’t wait to get rid of him, and here his former enemy was acting like he’d make even a decent fit among a lot of cut throats and thugs able to work through recharge and survive whole missing sensory circuits without shedding a tear.
“However,” Megatron continued, unconcerned with Optimus’ inner turmoil.
“You’ve certainly made a place for yourself here. You’re practically one of ours now.”
Optimus went very quiet then, worried the affects of his self induced injury had somehow become contagious and spread to Megatron to damage his processor. Did he hear himself right now?
“Well,” Megatron began, voice deep and thoughtful. So low it was unlikely Optimus was entirely meant to hear his inner musings.
“I consider you so. I’d be a fool not to claim you as quickly and thoroughly as possible.”
“Excuse me?!” Optimus wheezed through his vents. He hadn’t even realized when they’d come to a stop, but that’d been enough of a gut punch to send him clutching at Megatron’s armor like a lifeline.
“You’ve pushed yourself too far, little one.”
Optimus opened his mouth to hiss indignantly at the pet name, and immediately devolved into a coughing fit. His grip loosening, as he curled in on himself.
“I’m calling Hook.” Megatron hummed and almost sounded panicked, but the single palm wrapped around Optimus’ waist, pushing his weight into the bigger mech’s felt calming and sure. Promising the other his grip wouldn’t slip in the slightest.
Beyond feeling like there were slivers of glass cutting at his intake, Optimus decided Megatron’s rather overbearing approach to him as of late wasn’t such a bad thing. If he hadn’t been here, Optimus would have been stuck struggling to vent for however long until someone came walking by. And if it had been Cyclonus who’d found him in this scenario, he wouldn’t have gotten the appropriate care he’d needed.
He let the dizziness blur with his sudden exhaustion and was soon fading into unconsciousness against a sturdy chest plate.
——- ———— -
Optimus woke to that familiar warm servo draped across him sometime later. Now waring the effects of a system flush on Hook’s command, trying to turn the room upside down on him, he had little choice but to listen quietly to the firm lecture Megatron had clearly prepared for him.
“Why do you push yourself? You understand there are consequences to such foolishness, yet you are optimistic the risk will prove worth the punishment. It hasn’t thus far.” Optimus certainly didn’t need reminding of that truth.
“It’s left you in an even worse state now. You must see how much progress this has cost you as opposed to have simply *waiting* until you were fully recovered. Why push yourself?”
There was so much disappointment in his tone, and the little bot couldn’t believe how that could feel more miserable than his aching tanks.
Optimus felt like a bigger idiot than when he’d boarded that ship for Archa Seven.
He was blessedly spared the awful, crushing force of his embarrassment by a system alert to purge. He jolted against the servo pinning him down, but the warning passed as quickly as it came. Faulty code from the flush- it was doing away with contaminants on its own without the need purging. Which means Optimus would just have to lie there uselessly, absolutely swimming in nausea, and endure the seething mech at his side while he fought random alerts to purge his brain module out.
“Sorry.” He croaked. He was only sorry Megatron was the one having to see him act a fool.
He surely made a pathetic display, as Megatron’s other servo came up out of the purest sympathy he hadn’t known him to possess to smash his cheek plate into the palm of his hand, cradling the side of his helm. Thumb stroking a finial. Optimus shivered.
“I doubt it.” Megatron finally said, and he’d be right.
Optimus had had a job to do, and recharge hadn’t been such a priority. He was much less likely to stand by that now, though, if it meant he’d be withering away in Megatron’s berth for eternity.
He’d rather be here on more pleasant terms.
Or not at all.... Definitely not at all.... yeah... uh...
“Who convinced you to take such little care in yourself, Optimus? Who put it in your processor that you matter so little? *It is appalling*, you understand?”
Optimus would tell him ‘nobody’, if he had half a mind and none of this dizziness making his helm spin. Mostly because he wasn’t even worth most peoples’ processing power.
But without the privilege of good sense and a throat that wasn’t aching with untapped emotions, Optimus simply shrugged and confessed, “I think it’s kind of obvious.” And clung a little tighter to that servo keeping him grounded.
He couldn’t tell what Megatron thought of that- whether it was disgust at the self pity or anger that a mech he apparently considered quite capable and intelligent would let such doubt overwhelm him. His optics kept shuddering, and in the dark, Optimus could barely tell which way was up without Megatron to hold him there.
But a rumble came from a powerful chest above him, rattling through his frame and filling him in a terrifying way for the possessiveness with which it spoke. He leaned into the palm at his cheek and basked in it, thoroughly surprised to find Megatron so doting for his unbecoming confession.
“If that is so obvious, why am I here? I, who wouldn’t waste my time on anything so ‘unworthy’?”
Megatron’s servo slid free to stroke languidly down Optimus’ middle. Seemingly fixated on the blades of his grille like the first time he’d taken him to berth.
And in a voice much deeper than Optimus was sure he’d ever heard it, lulled him into a quiet recharge with the softest confession of his own.
“Your worth isn’t measured by my infatuation, mind you. You are simply enough as you are, Optimus. You.... matter.”
Whether that was true or not, Optimus could hardly hope to deny so. It felt too good to hear it, but especially when it’d been Megatron to say it. Even if he sounded quite out of his depths.
He’d never know Megatron simply felt there were no words to convey the true importance of the brilliant little mech he’d stumbled across by dumb luck. This mech that deserved higher praise than one lowly lord could hope to give him.
——— ———— -
Optimus drifted in and out of recharge, offered plenty of fuel and warm words whispered in his audial between them. A few stabs at the foolishly fearless mech that had once challenged Megatron to a battle back on earth when he was so easily defeated by recharge, too. Optimus had just enough energy to sass back with talk of the pitiful space bridge debacle.
Having turned over to low prone at some point, it earned him a gentle caress along the place between his shoulders, and he was forced to hide his burning face in the hoards of blankets, willing the flutter in his spark to recede with the tension Megatron dutifully rubbed away there.
He’d deny up and down the way his engines purred at the generous touch. Soaking the foreign attention up quicker than he had the Energon.
Megatron’s affections were their own abundant source, apparently, and Optimus felt blessed to be their receiver. Finally allowing himself to give in and believe himself absolutely worthy of this explicit care. Humming and stretching when a particular spot was pushed into just so, turning him into little more than a puddle of mech.
“Roll over.” Megatron ordered, unwilling to entertain protests of any sort. So much so that he took the smaller bot by the hips and flipped him himself.
Optimus felt awash in the sensations of those battle worn hands against his chassis, undoing decades of stress. Pawing at him until his frame felt anew and free of ages of wear. Processor, too.
————— —————
He wasn’t surprised to see the ex warlord in remarkably better spirits when the illness had finally passed, and Optimus had returned to his now substantially more esteemed position. If only because Megatron knew he was taking care to get that precious recharge going forward- in Megatron’s berth, no less.
Optimus took the junky Energon treat the ‘Con shamelessly offered with all the grace of an overprivileged grunt receiving the special treatment of his high commander could. Bringing it over to sip happily from atop his perch on the throne’s armrest, finials flicking at an incensed Cyclonus marching by.
———- ——————-
This is disgustingly fluffy, I know, but I fought against the much worse fluff crimes I am capable of to spare you. And myself. I have to stop outing myself like this.
🤍Stranger, thank you, because this message was so amazing, and I want to give you something in return for allowing me to splurge and humiliate myself appropriately🤍 Being sick was worth it to scribble this thing out and just vent.
#Strong language used#Sick Optimus#Guilty Optimus#Pampered Optimus#Megatron is a cocksure aft but has genuine concern#My strange obsession with eating weird objects showed up in this I’m sorry#Random au#The general chaos of me attempting any kind of half baked lore so I can focus on giving Optimus a tummyache to make better#Megatron indulges in being a provider#Strange and undefined relationships at first#Mentions of the council and Magnus being foolish but generally good bots#Megatron is HOPELESSLY infatuated#Tfa#megop#tfa Optimus prime#GRAMMAR AND SPELLING ERRORS sorry bout that
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Rung's Bad Therapy Masterpost
Yeah, yeah, you know the drill already, Rung is a terrible therapist and comes across as a different character that JRo intended. But this time I'm just going to compile every issue (I can think of) in one post.
Does this matter? I mean, in the grand scheme of things, no. But this is my version of people pointing out historical innacuracies in media. I'm having fun. And you guys asked for this, or were just indulging me. Yes, some of these may be to harsh on my part. Btw this is like 1800 words.
Ok, so let's start with the one issue the narrative acknowledges: Rung lost his license, due to, as the comic puts it "Inappropriate patient/practitioner relationships exemplified by a lack of professional distance and excessive self-disclosure", despite this, Rung kept on practicing for years.
Why is this a bad thing? Therapists are not your friends; therapist cannot be your friends. Not because they don't care about you, but because this relationship is asymmetrical and demands distance. I could do a whole post on it, but basically you don't owe to your therapist the same reciprocity you owe to your friends, this space is for you, they shouldn't take it to talk about themselves, you shouldn't worry about what they think of you. On the other hand, dealing with other people's problems all the time in mentally taxing and therapists need to learn to leave all of that in the office for their own mental health. You can't do this if your relationship with your clients is personal. On top of that, while objectivity is impossible, a therapist still needs to try to be aware of their own biases and mitigate anything that could interfere with their professional judgement. Similarly, the less you know about your therapist the better, of course they can tell you things about themselves to create rapport and a comfortable environment, but patients can also project in you things that interfere with therapy and you never know what that may be.
Could go into more detail if someone asks, but the point is that while therapists are friendly, they are NOT friends. These rules are there for a reason. So when truth comes to light, Megatron still tells Rung that he should still practice, which is very annoying because it makes it sound like besides this little mistake, Rung is still a great therapist. Which he's not. And is not just any mistake, particularly because Rung kept on being friends with his patients, because apparently he learned nothing. But at least Rung shoots Megatron's offer down.
But he really learned nothing, since he says he still thinks the tribunal was wrong. Very arrogant to think yourself above the rules like that.
Now, let's look at this snipped from Signal to Noise, the prose story that accompanies Mtmte #13 (when they go to Hedonia).
Whirl was banging his head against the wall, Rewind inquiries about this, not only does Rung tell him he does that to relieve pressure in the section of his brain Whirl thinks is the cause of his impulsive behavior, he then says is better to leave him to it if that's what he wants to think. So he's not only violating patient confidentiality here, he's apparently just.... enabling Whirl's self-harm. Like, what the actual fuck. This is so weird. Why is he letting his self-destructive patient commit self-harm?? Why is he letting Whirl believe some non-existent brain damage is the cause of his unpredictable behavior, when Whirl already thinks of himself as broken, instead of looking for ways so that Whirl can learn to self-regulate. If Whirl requires stimuli, why is he not providing safer options? This is all so wrong.
Also, the way he talks here comes across as condescending, which is not a big deal on its own, but is present a lot through Rung's dialogue and rubs me the wrong way. Condescension is, sadly, something many mental health practitioners can fall into and they should monitor themselves to make sure that isn't the case. Another example of him being this way is this excerpt from Bullets (the prose story that accompanies Last Stand of the Wreckers).
This point is more nitpicky, I’ll admit, but I really, really don’t like the way he talks about his patients. If I had ever referred to any of the people I worked with while getting my degree as something like “poor thing”, I would have been chastised by my supervisors.
We'll come back to Whirl, but for now let's look at Megatron's session:
Now, apparently Rung has spent most of the session trying to push his theories on the Deeper Meaning of the fusion canon onto Megatron. This is bad. First of all, whenever you have a hypothesis you present it as a suggestion, not a fact, if the patient rejects it you can try to bring it up again, delicately, if they reject it again you drop it. You can try other paths later if you're still convinced, but also you should trust your patients and not assume that you know them better than themselves. Rung just telling Megatron what his actions mean is counterproductive to their rapport and progress. Not to mention that if Megatron has been so closed off, then he doesn't even have a good basis to interpret what the fusion canon would mean to him in the first place. Even the most conservative of psychoanalysts agree that symbolic meaning is specific to the subject.
And yes, a closed off patient can be very frustrating, but theraphy is like 70% wording and I don't like how Rung says "It would help if you weren't so evasive", like he's blaming Megatron. Especially considering that this is the first session, and this is a guy who hasn't been emotionally vulnerable in 4 million years. You should be focusing in creating rapport, explaining your methodology, getting your patients trusts, not pushing your theories. You're not gonna make any breakthroughts in a first session. Is your job to be patient.
Anyway, here Rung senses Megatron won't come back for another session (who can't blame him) and asks him to forgive him to take the opportunity to ask him who is Terminus.... so he's basically admitting he's asking this to satisfy his own curiosity, instead of trying to help Megatron, giving him something to reflect on or persuade him to come to another session. This is what he chooses to finish on. Not only is this no way to end a session, but I don't care if Megatron won't come back, every single second of you two in that office is all about your patient, not about what you want.
Now let's look at the whole Fortress Maximus takes Rung and Whirl Hostage incident. First, Fort Max says he "apparently is having an acute psychotic episode", most likely quoting Rung. Now, a psychotic episode means experiencing delirium or hallucinations, this is not at all what was happening to Fort Max. There's nothing to indicate his perception of reality is compromised. I have no idea why JRo couldn't just google the term, but there's already enough stigma that equates psychosis with violence. Honestly, this mistake is so dumb I'm not even attributing it to Rung, it just really bothers me. Someone please edit the errors section for this chapter's wiki page to include this.
For the way Rung handled the crisis, overall is not like he does something wrong more like that he doesn't much something right. There are steps you take and techniques Rung does do things like identify the problem and offer validation to Fort Max's emotions, but at the same time he doesn't seem to know what he's doing. What really bothers me about the whole thing is how he treats Whirl.
So he insults Whirl twice, first subtly by trying to tell Fort Max he's giving Whirl too much credit, which is not the nicest way to word is not like Whirl to play mindgames in combat. And then he flat out tells him what's wrong with you. And remember, Whirl is very much trying to goad Fort Max into killing him. Whirl has a death wish. He's on a crisis of his own and comments like that are just gonna feed into his belief he's messed up beyond repair and certainly won't convince him to care about his life.
Again, I don’t like the accusatory tone in which he says this, and this isn’t exactly the time for it. Also, looks like someone forgot to establish professional boundaries, don’t look so happy. He did maintain patient confidentiality at gunpoint, so there’s that and then disregarded it later
It's true that this is a very stressful situation and Rung was under treath of death, so he can be forgiven some mistakes and snapping ta Whirl, but someone who deals with crisis intervention will get treathened multiple times and that's something you have to be ready for. Rung has been at this for millions of years and while he may not specialize in crisis intervention, that's still a basic skill he should have as a mental health professional. He deals with people traumatized by war. If he doesn't have the skills tho deal with these patients, he should not take them.
And speaking of poor crisis intervention let's look at the example that really drives me up the wall.
You know what's the first rule of crisis intervention?? What you should absolutely never do when there's a potential threat/murder/suicide? You don't challenge the subject. You never ever tell someone to do it. Neither do you tell them that they won't dare to do it. Which is exactly what Rung does here. He tells Brainstorm to pull the trigger and then says that of course he hasn't pulled it.
You see, Rung knew Brainstorm wouldn't do it because he had been standing there for 10 minutes and Rung is a pretty good judge of character and that doesn't matter because I can't stress how much you do not do any of that. That kind of thing can very much be an incentive. You do not gamble like this in a crisis. Anyone who has spent 1 hour at a crisis intervention workshop would know better than this.
I'm told in the script commentary for this issue, JRo says he knew Rung shouldn't have said this, but he needed him to... which is just..... there were several other characters in that scene that scene. Any of them coud have said it instead of the one person who absolutely should have known better. This is the kind of risk Rodimus may take, maybe, even the issue says they would expect something like that from Whirl, maybe just Chromedome wanted to believe in his friend. Really, why did it have to be Rung? Unless you wanted to use this characterize him, but the character that comes across is of someone so arrogant he's willing to disregard basic rules in his practice, which doesn't look good with everything else.
Lastly, when Rung shows up to stop Megatron's personality adjustment, is not because he thinks PAs are wrong, he approves of them as a last resort. He's just there so he can verify this case requires it, which is good that he does, but still... this implies that Rung at some point approved personality adjustments...
And unless I missed something, that’s the gist of it. The conclusion here is that shattered glass Rung is a good therapist.
Edit: As it was pointed out in the notes. Is Rung's job to screen an approve people for duty and he gave the greenlight to all teh guys in Sins of the Wreckers, which is very questionable. An argument could be made that due to the 4 million year war that has probably ruined everyone's mental health and limited combatants, Rung has no choice but to be lax on whom he approves, which is why I omitted mentioning that.
However he approved Pyro for the mission, who actively desires to die a martyr and is looking for a grandiose chance to do so, as part of his Primus Apotheosis (which Rung even coined). This is much harder to excuse and we get no clue that high command forced Rung to approve him regardless, so it's on him.
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Hi, if you're comfortable with writing something like that; could I request something with Megatron (any Megatron of your choice) comforting his afab non-binary s/o who's been dealing with massive dysphoria recently? It's super self-indulgent and I understand if you refuse. Either way, thank you, and have a nice weekend!
Self indulgence is the whole reason this blog exists anon!💥Went with tfa, hope this is close to what you’ve had in mind.~Gregoria🏩
(feedback on this one would be very much appreciated, since these sorts of requests are done with best intentions, but that doesn't mean that there are no mistakes in portrayal. If something isn't written well despite research, it would mean the world to hear so from first hand, so we can decide to try and write better, or not focus on these types of requests if they do more harm than good)
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“Fragment for your thoughts?”
Their scowl turns in his direction, hands balling deeper in the pockets of their hoodie.
“You know what, so stop bothering me,”
Megatron’s eyes narrow, the red triangular lenses refocusing on their face, taking in their disgruntled expression. The tension has been high for days now, and it’s about time he does something about it. He extends a servo, placing it near enough for them to step on.
“This is not meant to be an interrogation, love. I simply wish to speak with you,”
They take longer than usual to come to him, and even longer to speak again when he heads out on a flight with them. They even try to get out of him fastening the seat belt, muttering about it making things worse. His retort before takeoff is that he'd rather have his one and only favourite organic and partner in mild discomfort, than splattered across his internals in case of an autobot attack. When they finally manage to share their frustrations with him, describing just how awful they’ve been feeling recently, it soon becomes a conversation and he shares his own thoughts in regards to his own frame. It doesn’t feel like his, and since it’s barely anything like his original frame, he believes the feeling is one that is comparable.
“Yeah? You can say you want to be called something else and others will fall at your feet if they make the mistake, because like fuck anyone would do it on purpose! At least you can change your frame to fit, change how you want it to look and feel with no problems! You’re a robot, what do you know about what this feels like!”
He is silent after their outburst for a good couple of minutes, the air tense and cold.
“Despite being robots, as you and the professor seem so keen on pointing out, you seem to forget that we are sentient. Out of everyone trapped on this miserable wet rock your species inhabits, I’d say the feeling of discomfort is one I am quite familiar with. Nerves and circuitry are not as different as you might think.” he calmly states, and the two of them fly in silence from that point onward, until he eventually speaks again in a softer tone.
“Comfort in one’s frame is a great benefit in battle, that much I know for certain. And you, my dear warrior, are a victor of everyday challenges.” They can feel his field brush against their skin, the hairs on their body standing up straight from the staticy feeling. It carries a silent apology, attempted comfort that causes their muscles to relax slightly.
“My frustrations are not turned towards you. We shall address this topic more in depth in the future, but for now I suggest we focus on what will help you. It is about time we find an advantage for you,”
The seatbelt around them tentatively presses against them in a slow, reassuring squeeze, as close to a hug as he can give in his alt mode. “Is this agreeable, my love? Take your time, there is no rush in answering right away.”
He has the means, he knows the outline of Detroit on a nearly intimate level, so locating anything his partner needs never takes long. They discuss future actions, assess what risks and procedures (if there are any) that they are willing to undergo. He knows there is not much to be done when their dysphoria hits harder, aside from providing as much comfort as he can and keeping a watchful eye on them, making sure they are aware how cherished and important they are to him.
"No matter the way your feelings manifest, I am here for you. And nothing will stop me from loving you, no matter what that brain of yours suggests or tries to convince you of. You are not getting rid of me that easily, warrior mine."
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Vehicon 5T3V3 x human reader (tfp)
Cross-posted with Wattpad
Set in the Transformers Prime Universe:
A short self-indulgent fluffy oneshot involving the human reader and everyone’s favourite Vehicon 5T3V3 (Steve). With a hint of emotional hurt/comfort (self doubt) tossed in for good measure to spice up this mountainside picnic at sunrise.
Relationship: Romantic
Word count: 1056
Key:
(Y/n) = your name
(e/c) = eye colour
5T3V3 = Steve
0KA7N = Kayn
MA77Y = Matty
Mechpower = manpower
Servo = hands
Digits = fingers
Helm = head
There are three directives every Vehicon in the Grand Decepticon Army lives by:
Two – Starscream is to be avoided at all costs and If you fail to avoid him, do whatever he wants you to, as quickly as possible, after you inform Soundwave if possible.
One – Megatron, founder and eternally disputed leader of the Deceptìcons is to be obeyed.
And finally…Three – Whoever lets the secret of 5T3V3’s human sparkmate slip, will be disowned from the Vehicon caste, (especially if they let it slip to anyone in the higher ranks other than Soundwave. Who just really doesn’t care so long as no Vehicons are about to defect because of them)
Although, what would have definitely drawn Soundwave’s attention, is the newly developed trait among the Vehicons of making creative excuses (cough lying cough) to cover for 5T3V3.
For example, when he needs to sneak away from a mine he’s stationed at to have a romantic picnic with his sparkmate, they will do their best to make up for the missing mechpower or provide a believable excuse for any negligible drops in yield.
E.g., one of the drills malfunctioned briefly, the lights went out, and the tried and true, we thought we saw an Autobot so stopped to investigate.
Which is what several of them were doing now. Two Vehicons overcharging the drill to produce a higher yield, with another watching the heat gauge intently. No one wants a repeat of the previous exploding drill incident.
The Energon crystals near the entrance to the mine, reflect the sunlight in cerulean beams around the mouth of the cavern. Just beyond their azure reach, out in the light of the rising sun, sit a mech and human. 5T3V3’s frame sits immobile against the rockface, while his holoform and (Y/n) sit together in-front of him.
Their picnic consists of a Tupperware of sandwiches on a small square of well-worn checked fabric sitting next to a cube of Energon. The sun peeks over the horizon, kissing the tips of the forest at the base of the mountain.
“It’s different.”
The human turns to the man at their side when he speaks. “Different how?”
“It’s a different colour…to the sunset. It’s been so long I don’t quite remember Cybertron’s, but I know they were almost always the same colour.” He vaguely waves at the sky, fingers turning almost translucent in the light before solidifying again.
(Y/n) holds up their own hand, slowly reaching over to interlock their hands. “Well, there’s a long scientific explanation I could give for that. But really, it’s just part of what makes earth special.”
5T3V3 looks over at the human at his side, eyes tracing their face and committing it to his memory for the fifth time that hour. Wondering just how a being so beautiful could pick him. “Yeah…it is.”
(Y/n) suddenly turns to look up at him, (e/c) orbs staring into his intently.
A few moments pass where neither speaks before 5T3V3 awkwardly glances behind him. “What are you looking at?”
(Y/n) grins, “Can’t I admire the one I love.” Their head flops onto his shoulder. “Just wondering how I managed to find someone as kind, considerate and straight up gorgeous,” they look back up at 5T3V3, “as you.”
His holoform flickers as he shifts uncomfortably, stray hair blowing into the eyes of his mask. “There’s a whole army like me…and we all look the same though.” His hands begin to shake. “I’m cardboard cut-out soldier. You could have anyone you…” His form droops and he sighs.
(Y/n) frowns and leans forward, slowly grasping 5T3V3’s face. He goes still and allows them to turn it this way and that.
He chuckles nervously, “what is it?”
“You have a dimple, but only on the left side and it only shows when you smile.” (Y/n) smiles at him.
“But…all our holoforms are identical so…so 0KA7N and MA77Y have it too. I just…”
“Theirs doesn’t make my heart race.”
5T3V3’s breath hitches and his holoform flickers as (Y/n) traces a thumb along his lower lip. They gently tap his mask. “I can never tell with certainty where they’re looking, but I always know with you.” (Y/n) leans in close, their breath hot on 5T3V3’s ear. “Like fire on my skin.”
5T3V3’s cheeks flame red, sparks literally flying as his holoform glitches around his cheeks. (Y/n) giggles at his reaction, which only causes the con to blush deeper. The red morphing to purple, then to blue, then white as his holoform dissolves completely into pixels.
His frame jolts, and he glances down at the human before him, quickly shifting to kneel, slipping slightly when he dislodges the gravel underfoot. “But…”
“Who wanted to watch the sunrise?”
He freezes at the question, cautiously answering, “I did?”
“And the sunset?”
“I did.”
(Y/n) quickly “Who’s going to climb a mountain with me.”
“I am.” 5T3V3 wonders where this is going, but despite that a spark of confidence builds in his chest.
“Steve, I never dreamed of doing any of that until I met you. You make me want to live. No one else does that.” (Y/n) reaches out and tugs his servo, pulling the digits towards them. “Here…feel my heart.”
The mech goes still as he focuses on the sensors in his digits. The steady thumping of (Y/n)’s heart vibrating through them.
“Say my name.”
“What?” 5T3V3 tilts his head.
“Just say it. See what happens.”
The Vehicon ponders this for a second, pushing his own confusion down in the wake of (Y/n)’s intense assertion. He speaks with slow deliberation, “(Y/n).”
The human in question fights off a shiver as a trill runs down their spine, heartbeat speeding up imperceptibly before calming again. 5T3V3 fights of his own as his spark pulses out of rhythm…he felt that.
(Y/n) swallows air, “see…that is what you do to me.”
5T3V3 leans in close, sunlight glinting of his mask and helm, temporarily blinding (Y/n) and granting him a halo. They reach up and pull his helm closer, forehead resting against his helm.
Placing a delicate kiss on the corresponding place on his mask, they whisper. “I love you, and you only.”
The Vehicon wraps a servo around the back of the human. Nuzzling his helm against them in the closest facsimile to a kiss he can give. Derma curling into a smile behind the mask he can’t remove. “Thank you, (Y/n).”
#tfp#transformers prime#fanfiction#5T3V3 the vehicon#steve the vehicon#xreader#x reader#self insert#transformers#steve the vehicon x reader#human reader
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this (currently untitled) fic was intended for the sadly-cancelled tfrarepairings week :<
onesided soundwave/shockwave/prowl (all the pining is on soundwave’s end) ft. the junkion campaign, casual war crimes, attempted genocide, mentions of unethical scientific experiments, fantasizing, poorly handled PTSD, mentions of xenophobia, canon-typical nonsense and violence. lmk if you think there’s anything else that needs a tag.
it’ll go on ao3 whenever i think of a title!
Soundwave sat and waited.
This sector of Junkion was almost familiar—even before their arrival, it had clearly been one of the areas the unfortunate masses had fled to survive. Soundwave knew little about Junkion’s governing bodies, but he doubted it mattered.
No matter where they went, the result was the same.
A stay thought process attempted to run the probabilities of the Junkions themselves organizing a revolt against their leaders, had they not had the misfortune to make contact with the Decepticons a mere five centuries ago. Soundwave cut off the calculations before they could begin to run in earnest. That the Junkions were a mechanical race, fully sentient and still going to be extinct within the next week…Soundwave tried not to think about that.
He wondered what might have changed if Megatron were here. Would Megatron have forbade Shockwave’s envoy from landing on Junkion? And what about the test group of Junkions, sent to them as a peace offering, who now lay in pieces in one of Shockwave’s laboratories. They came from this sector, Soundwave knew, because their fear smelled like these buildings.
What little he remembered of his life before finding Ravage and the birds surfaced only in his most restless dreams. For whatever it was worth, Soundwave had come from a place like this.
Soundwave saw himself in Junkion; a chaotic melange of unstructured sensation, brought to heel only by the strength of will.
Not even his own will: Soundwave leaned back in his seat, stretching his awareness to the edge of the planet, seeking the only respite this place offered. Junkion was maddening chaos and disorder, threatening to break through what little focus had survived this campaign. He pushed past the colors and sounds that danced across the walls surrounding him, unhindered by the sensornet dampeners he had installed around the building.
He found it quickly: after all this time, his sensors were perfectly attuned to the chilling void of Shockwave’s mind.
Soundwave lingered in its absence for as long as he dared. Shockwave had never given any indication that he noticed Soundwave’s intrusion into his mind, but Soundwave did not dare press his luck. On multiple occasions, Shockwave had floated the idea of Soundwave being assigned to his command, with the understanding Soundwave would be there to continue work on Ferak’s aptly-named Nightmare Engine. Megatron had denied each request, not even needing to ask Soundwave for his input. Shockwave’s command was a euphemism for test subjects.
If nothing else, Shockwave’s cold desire for him provided all the incentive Soundwave needed to remain in Megatron’s good graces.
Soundwave could not read Shockwave’s mind, but he loved the silence all the same.
The only hint that Shockwave was still planetside at all was the passionless void amidst Junkion’s chaos. Soundwave had managed to carve out a semblance of peace in this sector, killing every Junkion in a hundred-mile radius and transferring what little signal-blocking equipment could be safely removed from his ship. Junkion was still a constant storm, but now it lingered in the back of his processor, allowing him to focus on relaying Decepticon communications across the planet. It was a simple task—too simple, leaving Soundwave excessive free time to struggle over Junkion’s hold on his mind.
Soundwave’s internal temperature kicked up a notch. The Junkions had unleashed a weapon—more chaos than anything substantive, a flurry of hundreds of acid-soaked scrap metal raining down on the encampment.
And then—ah. There he was.
Where Shockwave’s mind was eerie, comforting silence, Prowl’s mind was a tumult of conflicting numbers and trajectories as he calculated the exact path of the acid maelstrom raining down on them.
Soundwave lacked the presence of mind to look deeper and attempt to understand exactly why Prowl had determined stepping up to divert the Junkion’s attention away from Shockwave was needed.
He trusted Prowl’s reasoning all the same. Soundwave had spent a full week analyzing Prowl’s strategic choices in past campaigns, and he rarely made an error that could not be traced back to unreliable information. He allotted himself a few minutes to run scenarios as Prowl directed his squad where the fire, shooting down the storm of acidic debris with pinpoint accuracy.
Chances were Prowl had decided to save Shockwave in order to preserve command structure. Were he to allow Shockwave to be killed, the void in Decepticon High Command would lead to temporary victories—at least until someone took Shockwave’s place. Prowl likely feared someone even more ruthless—and more unpredictable—than Shockwave himself would be promoted. Bludgeon or Scorponok, perhaps.
The second reason, Soundwave was startled to realize, was because Prowl knew he was here. Decepticon communications had been transmitting across the system flawlessly, and Prowl had deduced it was because Soundwave was present. Killing Shockwave would flush Soundwave out—maybe. Or it might drive Soundwave deeper underground.
And Prowl had determined, Soundwave realized with no small amount of surprise, he was important. Not important in the vapid, Autobot way, where important mechs like Optimus Prime were lauded and shielded from the worst their factions had to offer. Important like a Decepticon, where he mattered. Not because of his alt mode or a shiny, false bauble had been implanted in his chassis, but because he was…
For a moment, Soundwave indulged himself, lingering in the tantalizing mix of fear and hate Prowl felt whenever he thought of Soundwave. He felt Prowl’s instinctive repulsion of Soundwave and his abilities, his devotion to a cause that had torn his home apart. What little sympathy Soundwave might have had for him dissolved like acid on protometal. Orion Pax had done more to destroy Soundwave’s home than Soundwave ever could, long before Soundwave had ever picked up a blaster, but Prowl would never see it that way.
He relayed the last transmissions for the cycle, then powered down the console and settled back in his chair. He was too far away to reach the battlefield before the skirmish inevitably finished (as it always did these days: in a draw), and his mission was clear: streamline Decepticon communications, jam Autobot transmissions.
Soundwave switched off his visor. Through Prowl’s eyes, he watched the Autobot gunners successfully take down the last of the storm. The Autobot’s tactical processor detected an anomaly in his surroundings, and Prowl whipped around, only for Shockwave’s blow to bounce painfully off his doorwing, shorting out the sensors as Prowl screamed and Soundwave winced at the unexpected blow.
Prowl’s mind was a finely-tuned, ruthless instrument of war, but compared to Shockwave’s dispassion, he was nothing. Soundwave allowed himself a moment to imagine what it might be like, struggling under the weight of Shockwave’s empty gaze as the scientist peeled him apart, finding what made Soundwave Soundwave…
And making it Shockwave’s.
As it inevitably did, the fantasy switched gears. Soundwave hadn’t been at an Institute in a hundred thousand years but he remembered it well—the cold steel restrains, the sharp needles digging into his neck. The mnemosurgeons’ barely-contained fear of having a high-profile target in their ‘care’ smelled like sulfur.
Soundwave exchanged the mnemosurgeons for Prowl. Where they felt fear, Prowl felt anger.
He had lived most of his life with both, and Soundwave always preferred the anger. Prowl would hurt him, yes, and Soundwave would hurt him in turn, reciting the things Prowl kept close to his spark, guarded with what tattered remnants of compassion had survived the last two million years.
And then he imagined them both, united against him. Their hands on his plating. Undoing him. Making him theirs, all ruthless, unyielding focus and cold logic pitted against the chaotic harmony of Soundwave’s mind.
Soundwave wanted nothing else.
The skirmish was brief: Shockwave was not built for combat, which factored into all of his plans. One of Shockwave’s scouts sent a ping (which Soundwave intercepted effortlessly and read before sending it on its way). They had found a way to the planet’s core.
Prowl’s scouts had found a path two days ago. Soundwave had allowed himself a brief moment of selfishness, withholding the information from Shockwave in the hopes that they might remain on Junkion a while longer.
Clearly, he had underestimated him—he had underestimated both of them.
With some disappointment, Soundwave realized their time on Junkion was coming to an end. The whorls of muted color dancing across the walls vanished for a moment, leaving nothing but the dead gray of his surroundings. He spent another longing moment in Prowl’s mind—while he might need to take care not to alert Shockwave of the mental intrusions (if an intrusion could even be detected), Prowl did not warrant any such courtesy. The desperate, rebellious part of Soundwave wanted Prowl to feel it, to seek him out and hunt Soundwave down.
He cut off that thought process as well. That bordered on courting treason—there was imagining a fantastical scenario where he was pinned between Cybertron’s greatest minds and fragged senseless, and then there was wanting to be caught by the enemy.
He felt the collision of the skirmish dissipate into Junkion’s murky atmosphere as the Autobot and Decepticon’s respective forces retreated. Steely resolve and bottomless logic clashed once more, and then Shockwave and Prowl parted ways a moment later, each sporting new dents and scratches Soundwave would have given anything to touch.
So many of his memories faded to hazy sameness as time drained all but the strongest of his emotions dry, but Soundwave hoped he would remember this.
Soundwave sighed and reactivated his visor, then got back to work.
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Wooo Minimegs Week Start!!
Light Fluff, contains spoilers for MTMTE/LL, self indulgent because destined to fail romance kills me.
__________
“Do you ever think about it? What became of us … the original us?”
Mimimus Ambus’ red optics were trained forward, looking out to the stars. The great mass of the universe ahead of them as the Lost Light rocketed through space unmapped and unknown. His servos found his elbows and he hugged his own chassis, unprepared to look up to the grey mech beside him.
No matter how many night shifts they spent here, sharing in the view, indulging in each other's company, even the years they had already spent in space together, Minimus always got that same overwhelming feeling as he gazed out into the great beyond. He thought perhaps it would be immensely lonely, if the warm grey mass of Megatron hadn’t just drawn up beside him as he always did. The smaller mech noted that his partner was keeping his EM’s extremely close. Not an uncommon practice for either of them, however Minimus could not deny he took pleasure in the moments they were alone and could freely entangle each other’s field’s. The whole room felt as if it had taken a sharp breath and was holding it painfully as Megatron pondered his answer about times better forgotten.
“I try not to. My life is here now, on this ship, with you.” The warframe said finally, and Minimus let out an ex-vent, only now realising he was the one holding in air.
“But-” The green mech’s frame shifted, turning to look up at Megatron. The low glow of the stars outside cast over his roughly handsome features perfectly, and the minibot soon found himself averting his optics just as quickly.
“I suppose it is needless to say, but.. We left everything. Everything behind. I just wonder if I.. the other Minimus, if I would recognise him, or if he would recognise me. Your trial would’ve been completed by now and-”
Minimus stopped himself mid sentence as he felt Megatron’s black servos encircle his waist and gently pick him. The ex-warlord sat back in the Captain’s chair with the loadbarer balanced carefully on his lap, optics drawing away from the black starred abyss for only a moment to stare. A small smirk dusted grey cheeks as he enjoyed Minimus’ flushed silence. Megatron could already hear ‘you know i don't like being handled’ before the Minibot even said it, which gave him apt time to adjust his seating. Minimus swallowed, made the complaint but then made himself comfortable. It was a jeopardizing position, sitting on Megatron’s lap like this, and the horror he’d feel if anyone else saw would be astronomical. However that didn’t stop him from leaning back on his conjunx’s broad grey chassis and enjoying the extra warmth the larger mech provided.
Megatron settled just as well, knowing this distraction from their conversation would only last so long. Two sets of red optics continued to stare out into a now completely different set of stars.The constantly changing views was one of the few perks Miminus genuinely enjoyed about residing on an ever moving spacecraft. He noted Megatron’s black servo resting on the arm of the chair and placed his own green one over the top, to which the larger mech responded to by turning over his palm and interlacing their digits- the best they could due to the size difference.
Peaceful moments passed like this, only the thrum of contented sparks filling the room before the silence was again swiftly broken.
“I never even told you.” Minimus said, much more quietly than before. Megatron knew instantly what he meant. Their affections had gone unspoken for so long. All the actions and instances were there in the original universe. The long touches, intimate conversations, the mutual staring at board meetings or sitting far too close together during nights at Swerve’s.
But they never openly communicated it. Neither dared mention it. Because then it would be too real, and in equal parts too painful. Megatron was destined to die or be locked away forever at his trial, and both knew their short relationship would be more harmful than good, no matter how many nights Minimus laid awake thinking through a thousand legal loopholes and what’s ifs. It reminded him of a human playscript he’d once read. Romeo and Juliet by a W. Shakespeare. Star Crossed lovers, doomed to fail, the entire tale wrapped in death and tragedy and yet their love was so striking.
“I know, but here we have said those words here, many times.” Megatron comforted, slowly rubbing circles into the back of Minimus’ servo with his thumb, pulling the smaller mech out of his thoughts completely.
“Yes, and I do love you.”
#maccadam#mtmte#transformers#megatron#minimus ambus#minimus#MINIMEGS#minimegs week#minimegs week say one#skRRRTTTTTT TATATSTA#Yeah idk shoot me later
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as someone still in tf fandom who wasn’t here for your first mc kirk phase is very funny to me that you never got into ratchet/optimus prime bc fr what i can tell both have same vibes
Transformers. Ratchet/Optimus. MCKIRK. The dawn of the new decade is APPARENTLY marked by all of takiki’s fandom streams crossing at once!!!!!!
I have seen approximately zero of any canon material (comics/shows/movies/etc) except for a few long-ago viewings of the unfortunate Bay movies and maybe Bumblebee, so my knowledge of our fave Cybertronians is limited to what tumblr and ao3 feed me (this is all astolat’s fault in the first place). But from what I CAN gather, I do definitely see your point about Ratchet/Optimus Prime being a McKirk analogue? Ratchet is BASICALLY Cybertron!McCoy, and Optimus is...well Optimus Prime?
(self-indulgent shipping musings under the cut)
It still constantly surprises me that I ever dipped a toe into TF fandom at all, and on top of that it surprises me even MORE that I was into MegaOP? I mean, I do tend to fall into whatever ship can provide me the most ao3 tag content,and MegaOp has an unfair advantage in that canon is obsessed with their relationship and it is BASICALLY Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier in giant robot form. Right down to the “enemies AND lovers;” “tragic backstory oppressed villain vs. status quo hero; Problematic Marginalized Metaphors (TM); ‘old friend,’” etc etc. Alas for the Ratchet/Optimus takiki fixation that never was, but APPARENTLY Cherik never left my heart and I just keep going back!!!
And ngl I feel a little guilty saying I’m a McKirk shipper, because McKirk is one of those ships where it’s “my fave character + the person I think they have the most chemistry with,” my fave character being Bones. And because Bones is my favorite character, I have of course an overwhelming desire to see him get whumped as much as possible :))))). So I started shipping McKirk honestly...through the mirrorverse fics I found more than through the usual Academy era fluff that seems to be the bulk of the fandom? And to this day I still prefer fics where Bones is the focus, where there is more of a focus on his Tragic Backstory Angst (TM), and where Bones is the one tied up in pining anxious self-sacrificing knots over Jim instead of the other way round.
Which makes it even more strange for TF fandom analogues, because MEGATRON is definitely my fave half of the MegaOp ship, and it still feels weird just typing those words out. And my mostest favoritest Ratchet fic (of the few I have read) is one that ships Ratchet with MEGATRON in a weird roundabout way, WHICH STILL FEELS WEIRD TO ME TO TYPE OUT!!!!
#transformers#mckirk#star trek#nutrek#bones#fandom#my posts#i have used more ship portmanteaus in this post than in the last year or so
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Evil Authors Day: The Final WIP
Title: Acid and Rust
Universe: G1
Everyone knows warlords don’t take vacations, but apparently Megatron’s officers didn’t get the memo. Bringing Starscream along was his own mistake. Crack being treated like a serious fic.
Main Pairings: Megatron/Starscream
Anticipated Rating: Mature for non-graphic sex and mutual PTSD.
This sample scene is SFW and contains a self-indulgent level of creative license regarding Cybertronian geology.
Megatron was no stranger to rust. It had been a fact of life in Kaon, and in all the industrial cities of Cybertron’s southern hemisphere, for longer than he had existed. Even before the war there had been no escaping it, or the sharp, cloying scent of sickness and death that accompanied it. No matter how much one might want to.
So when Astrotrain’s doors slid open and that cursed scent was the first thing Megatron registered, he could only think it was a fitting start to this so-called ‘vacation’.
He stepped to the top of Astrotrain’s ramp and surveyed the barren landscape before him, debating whether or not to venture further. Whatever might once have existed on this island, countless acid storms had worn it down to a wasteland. The ground was a pale, powdery green, veined with black and yellow, until it met the dark, steaming waters of the Sea of Rust not far from where Astrotrain had landed. The stench of rust didn’t quite mask the sulfuric burn in the air.
The last thing Megatron wanted to do was step out onto that corroded ground. But he wasn’t about to be beaten by a mere island, so he strode out to get a look at what lay on Astrotrain’s other side. The ground squished unpleasantly underfoot, and yellow-tinted beads of moisture were already gathering on Megatron’s armor. And that scent was everywhere. Halting his vents provided some slight relief, but as high as the temperature was here, it wouldn’t take long to overheat if he kept them stopped.
This was not the location Soundwave had said was chosen as a suitable vacation site. The only explanation was that Starscream had interfered somehow, and had chosen the most horrid place he could find.
“Well, isn’t this just lovely,” the Seeker in question grumbled behind him. “Our own private island.”
Megatron scowled and turned back to find Starscream lingering at the top of the ramp much as he had done, though with far less dignity. He was peering at the ground with an expression of utter disgust, wings angled back as though it had offended him simply by existing. Given the chance, he would probably be happy to slip back inside Astrotrain and leave Megatron stranded here.
“Considering you doubtless chose this place to be as miserable as possible, I would think you’d be more enthusiastic about it,” Megatron said scathingly.
The look Starscream turned on him was only slightly less appalled than the one the ground had received. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?”
“You knew this nonsense was being planned. That’s one strike against you already.”
“So what? I didn’t think you’d actually go along with it!”
“Hey, do you think you could get out if you’re going to?” Astrotrain interrupted. “My interior is getting damp.”
Starscream dropped his gaze back to the muddy ground, and the outrage that had briefly crossed his face was once more replaced by disgust.
“Yes,” Megatron agreed. “Why don’t you come out and take a nice hard look at your home for the next orn.”
A part of him didn’t expect Starscream to actually do it. For a moment it seemed that he wouldn’t do it, and Megatron prepared to head back up the ramp and drag him down. Then Starscream sighed and stepped cautiously out onto the ramp, which was already clouded with condensation. Megatron kept an optic on him until he had hopped to a patch of pale ground, just in case he tried to escape back inside, then turned away to finish his survey of the area. Not that there was much to see. The beach to the north eventually gave way to acid-worn cliffs that bore the same sickly green tarnish as the ground, and everything else was mud and steaming water.
“You may go, Astrotrain,” Megatron said, before he - or Starscream - could change his mind. “Return here in an orn.”
Astrotrain muttered an affirmative, already closing his doors. He took off without further prompting, but considering the place he was leaving, Megatron couldn’t fault him the lack of respect. He wouldn’t stay here either, if he didn’t have a point to prove.
He watched Astrotrain go, then turned a dark look on Starscream, who stood with arms folded and face still set in a revolted grimace.
“I find it interesting that you’re surprised I would ‘go along’ with this, considering every officer in the High Command agreed that this ridiculous trip was a good idea,” Megatron said. “Including you, if I’m not mistaken.”
Starscream broke off his staring contest with the ground to sneer at Megatron instead. “The surprise is that you were willing to listen to reason, considering your decisions lately have only cost us battles. If you hadn’t been working yourself so hard that you were making basic mistakes, maybe we wouldn’t be here now.”
Megatron growled and strode towards Starscream, absently noting that the tarnished metal was more solid than the mud he’d been standing in. “We wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t tried to ship me off to a rusted wasteland!”
“Oh, please,” Starscream scoffed. “Do you really think I would have been able to pull that off without your mindless followers realizing I was up to something?”
It was a fair point. Neither Soundwave nor Shockwave would have stood back and allowed Starscream to strand their leader on an island. And had it come from a less treacherous mech, Megatron might have been willing to give him the benefit of doubt. But Starscream had a way of getting around such minor obstacles.
“None of my loyal followers would have chosen such a dismal site for a vacation,” Megatron countered. “That doesn’t leave many possibilities.”
Starscream’s mouth twisted. ���Have it your way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make sure there’s nothing living on this island that has a taste for fresh metal. I’m sure you would have thought of that yourself if your processor wasn’t so worn out.”
He leaped from the ground and transformed before Megatron had a chance to respond, blasting off into the sky. Megatron was tempted to shoot him right back down after that last remark, but he opted not to. He had more productive things to do, and once Starscream had had a chance to think about his behavior, he would realize Megatron had every reason to punish him for it. Letting him dwell on that would be suitable punishment for now.
Megatron turned from the sky to study the bluffs instead, optics raking the surface for a cave deep enough to use as shelter. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t any. This island had been worn smooth by hundreds of thousands of vorns of acid storms. If there were any caves, they would be a result of acid forming puddles and melting its way deeper. No one with any sense would take shelter in a hole. But setting up camp by the cliffs would at least provide some protection from the elements.
Megatron hadn’t survived vorns of war only to be defeated by some rusted out island. Whatever Starscream was up to, he would have to try harder than this.
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the great bidonking meme reply;
❤ : Where on their body is your muse most sensitive?
The usual spots apply (audials, truck kibble, array and joints), but his biolights are actually a bit more sensitive than most. Running a digit slowly down them as they flash makes him squirm.
☜ : Does your muse like to top?
Not particularly, but he’ll consider it.
☞ : Does your muse like to bottom?
Moreso, yes.
∀ : Your muse’s favorite position?
He’s rather simple. Anything comfortable is always preferred, so anything that involves laying on the berth or sitting will be chosen above any silly wall-related positions.
☺ : How often does your muse masturbate?
Not often at all. He, uh... tries, but he never allows himself to overload. And frankly, he doesn’t often reach that point to begin with; he gets bored rather easily.
Á : Is your muse loud in bed?
Not particularly. When he overloads, tho’, things get... loud. And violent. And explody.
⚔ : Does your muse have any specific kinks?
He likes being read to, but that’s not something that happens usually during intercourse. He’s also fond of big mechanicals; the bigger, the better. And he likes hands, especially worn and experienced ones.
👅-Would they rather give or receive oral sex?
He’s partial to either.
👠-Do they watch pornography? If so, what kind?
He reads mostly, but he’ll indulge in a silly smutty anime every so often. The sillier the better.
💋-Do they use tongue when they kiss?
Nope. It looks weird and feels ridiculous.
👎🏻-What is an absolute deal breaker in the bedroom?
If anyone so much as mentions the Late Prime when he’s getting cucked, he is out.
👄-Do they swallow?
No, because ew.
💦-Best place for their partner to cum on/in?
He’s okay with anywhere that isn’t his mouth or on his spark, provided he has a chance to clean himself of all of that once they’re done. Because ew.
🌶-Most sensitive place on their body?
Of all? Probably his biolights or the inner joints of his hips. He’s rather ticklish, tho’.
👑-Daddy kink, yes or no?
Nope. He’s not above teasing people with it, tho’.
🏢-Most public place they’ve had sex, or would like to have sex?
He has dreams sometimes of mating in a temple. It’s not something he’d do awake, of course, because that’s exceedingly rude, but it’s the only thoughts he has on the matter.
🍒-When and how did they lose their virginity, if they have?
He, uh, had a heat cycle and a Megatron, like the miraculous cock he is, showed up. Worth it, tho’.
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Eugenesis Part Three, Scene Five: Rev-Tone Becomes My Favorite Character
Pull it together, Nightbeat. You can indulge in your fantasies of being crushed under the palms of an authority figure some other time.
So Optimus Prime somehow woke up in time to save the day, and now he’s performing life-saving surgery with nothing but his hands, as Nightbeat swoons in the background. I’m not even exaggerating, that’s literally what happens.
We’re approaching MTMTE Thunderclash levels of adoration here.
Even Nightbeat’s a little put off by how hard he’s crushing on Optimus, realizing that the Optimus he’d served under hadn’t been the “original”, but rather the Nebulan copy. Seeing original-flavor Optimus is akin to meeting Jesus Christ, apparently.
Nightbeat’s team looks like they’re all going to pull through, thanks to Optimus Prime being friggin’ perfect. He’s not even asking any questions as to why he’s in the future, or why there’s a wormhole, or why the sky is full of Trident ships, or why why why why why, like any other normal sentient creature would in this position, although Nightbeat is really wishing that he would.
That’s it, I’m kink-shaming Nightbeat. He’s going to jail for being way too horny for his boss’ attention.
After working his medical magic, Optimus finally, finally lets Nightbeat bust a nut asks just how he got where they currently are. Nightbeat explains what’s going on, more or less, and Optimus gets real amped up about getting everyone else to the future with him, before he has to be shut down, since that really isn’t the plan. Then Optimus has what can only be described as a very brief nervous breakdown, before Hoist wakes up and starts chumming it up. The others quickly follow, flocking around the Prime like anime schoolgirls around their senpai.
Meanwhile, back at the bombed-out remains of Autobase- I told you, they got fucked hard by the Quintessons- Prowl’s Autobots watch as their forcefields break down and the Quintesson ground forces begin to move in.
Rev-Tone’s not dead yet, somehow, and meets up with Kup. They open a hatch to the world above, the door raining severed limbs onto them momentarily before they climb up. Also, Quickswitch is dead. So that’s neat, I guess.
I’m getting flashbacks to MTMTE #15 here. Roberts, I’ve seen how you treat your OCs- don’t do these boys dirty, they don’t deserve it.
He sees Quark- thank fuck- and starts blasting, defending him from a swarm of Sharkticons. Quark yells at him for not being in the medibay, but notes that his twitch has disappeared. This is starting to feel like a quasi-Chromedome/Rewind dynamic here. I bet if it hadn’t been 2005, these two would be conjunxing it up. As it is, there’s this feeling of “thou doth protest too much” in how often Roberts refers to them as ‘friends'.
You sure fucking are.
But enough of the not-romance, it’s time to check in on our Quintessential Flying Fucks™! Jolup- who isn’t an OC, but an honest-to-god character with dialogue and everything in the comics- has been screaming the entire time they’ve been flying, because, really, who wouldn’t be shrieking with delight after going from feeling literally nothing and seeing nothing to being able to fly? He’s also been doing barrel rolls. Jolup is very relatable.
Jolup casually suggests that they kill the general and take control, but Sevax- another canon character- just kind of brushes him off. Surely this little conversation will never be revisited.
The three QFF land in a massive crater and decide to investigate.
These three are a delight! I can’t believe we haven’t spent more time with them before now.
They’ve found Mount Edeus, and decide that this will be where Phase Two will be set up.
…Yeah, I’m just gonna keep calling them the Flying Fucks, if it’s all the same to you.
They enter an abandoned building inside a hollow mountain, deciding to turn it into an Autobot/Decepticon concentration camp.
And Megatron wrote a book called My Struggle.
And there’s this whole thing about the Quintessons wanting to keep the “sparkline pure”.
I’m just not sure that a novel about giant cartoon space robots, who will allegedly get knocked up at some point, is the best place for all these Holocaust parallels.
Back with Team Prime, the boys are getting ready to hit the road, locking up on their way out of the temple. Optimus is busy taking in the scenery and having an existential crisis over the fact that this fucking war is still going on. He knows why they brought him back, and he’s already sick of it. He’s going to be so pissed with Prowl, I guarantee it.
Meanwhile, on the Conquest, Xenon’s still mad about Thunderclash’s little prank. The Matrix is essential to the next part of their plan, so they need to find Rodimus- fast. He tells Quantax to figure it out, then hangs up without saying goodbye. Rude.
This book is laying it on pretty thick now.
Drift ghostwrote this part.
The dawn has arrived, and everyone is still fighting, though at this point it’s more because they have to than any real sense of self-preservation. Sideswipe sidles up to Prowl, tells him what he’s going to do, doesn’t take no for an answer, and does what he pleases, because Sideswipe doesn’t respect Prowl, nor should he. He splits the forces in half, allowing for at least half of the troops to escape back underground while the others provide cover. Brutal. Sideswipe for Prime 2012.
Rev-Tone and Quark get a comm. One from Prowl, one from Sideswipe. Quark’s been chosen to stay behind.
Rev-Tone gives the doomed lovers trope a big double bird, scoops up Quark and bolts for the underground.
While Rev-Tone does for Quark what IDW Chromedome wishes he could have done for Rewind, Galvatron’s in a body harness in the Quintesson Fungeon. Hope he didn’t forget the safe word.
My mistake, it’s called the executive torture suite.
Haxian walks in, pops an Inhibitor Chip into Galvatron’s head, then reverses the polarity on the energy-drain machine Galvatron’s strapped into. Newly invigorated, he’s ready for some good old-fashioned torture.
Xenon shows him some of that aqua fortis that makes up the oceans of Aquaria. He pours a little onto Galvatron’s leg, as a demonstration of just what it can do to a Transformer’s body. He tells Galvatron that if he can transform in the one minute he’s given, Xenon won’t flood the room with the stuff.
Yeah, that doesn’t happen.
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Anonymous asked: 👀 how did you meet Megatron?
—
Oh it was a charmed encounter, I must admit. I was young, pretty, and so very stupid. I attended every match Megatron, then, Megatronus, fought. I was one of his biggest fanbots, along with several other seekers around my age. In an attempt to bring more customers into the arena, a drawing was advertised. The winner would have the chance to not only meet Megatronus, but to have dinner with him. Of course, we all entered and of course, I was the winner.
My trine wasn’t so sure I should get my hopes up, but Megatronus proved to be every bit as charming as I had ever imagined him to be. A true mech of the people. He was fierce and powerful, yet his words were profound and struck a cord with nearly everyone who had the pleasure of speaking with him.
I arrived at the agreed upon cafe. It was in a very public place in Kaon. Not too far from his home, in fact. I kept checking my reflection to make sure the sheen of my polishes were holding up and that I hadn’t suddenly become the most hideous being on all of Cybertron. All of those thoughts left me when he entered the room.
I was smitten the moment I saw him. I knew he was attractive and I had seen him after a few matches, when I was lucky enough to get close in the crowd. But this was different. The way he carried himself was cool, refined, almost regal. One of the few traits he has retained from then. He gazed down at me and I was immediately horrified to find that he already knew who I was. Or rather, how I had won this chance with him.
“So you are the one who stole the winning lot?” He asked me.
I was afraid he would turn me away, or worse, call security. But instead, he said to me, “A bit crude, but I like that drive for success. It’s that same ambition I feel during every match.” And he smiled… Megatronus smiled and it was meant for me! I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.
He treated me to energon goodies and seemed comfortable with speaking to me. In fact, I began to notice that it was mostly him speaking and I listening. It was an arrangement I was content with. I considered myself a lucky mech to hear him speak to me and me alone. No grand stadium of viewers or the lens of a camera.
That was when he suggested something that made my spark skip a beat.
“I grow weary of these optics on us. Why not go somewhere a bit more private?”
Perhaps it was the high grade I had been indulging in, but I was eager to agree. Eager to know more about him and so hungry for his attention. While leaving the cafe, he guided me along with him. I remember the energon rushing to my face as he placed a servo on my spinal strut, just below my wings. It was so… intimate.
His home was quite nice, but I knew this perceived freedom was imaginary. His victories had awarded him a few luxuries, but in the end, he was as much a slave to the arena as he was the king of it. I felt it must be harrowing to know if he ever lost, it may be the end for him.
I don’t believe I’ve ever acted as awkwardly in my life, as I did when he instructed me to have a seat on his couch. It still pains me to think about how I stumbled over nothing. I couldn’t even have the dignity of actually being able to place the blame on something other than my tipsy processor. Though it did provide me the chance to be held. Megatronus’ reflexes were swift for someone so large, in only a moment he had caught me mid-fall. And for a moment, he held me still. Seeing that I was embarrassed, he guided me down to the plush surface and seated me comfortably.
I know not if his intentions were less than noble, but he offered me another glass of high grade. I accepted, of course. He sat across from me, actually relaxing for the first time in my presence.
Our conversations turned quite personal. He asked me what my dreams were. It felt so pale in comparison, but I told him about my interest of becoming the best air commander in all of Vos. About how my trine and I were top notch aerial acrobats. He told me that I would succeed, that he could sense it about me. I was flattered and flustered, so I quickly turned the topic back to him. When I pressed the topic of his own dreams, he confided in me that he dreamed of a life outside the arena. He told of how he often feared his death would come too soon. How he so desperately wanted a moment to truly rest. A life where no bot would ever have to see the horrors he had, to never feel trapped in such a way.
To this day I cannot believe I had the ball bearings to do what I did. His face showed such sorrow and I so deeply wanted to take that away from him. He was staring into his glass of high grade and I leaned in close, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
I’m not sure exactly when he took me into his arms, but by the time I realized it, I was already wrapping my arms around his neck. It would seem we were both quite eager for a more personal connection, at least for the night…
Of all the things I’ve done in my life, stealing that winning lot is the thing I regret the most. Perhaps in another time, I never met Megatron. Perhaps I am with my trine and we are content and comfortable with our lives.
I may even be free.
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Some clarification on Shockblast (whom appears to be a more brutal and fight-happy interpretation of Shockwave from the Unicron Trilogy, and so is interpreted as Shockwave’s brother here):
Yes, he is still a Terrorcon. However, while he willingly became such and followed Megatron, he has never particularly cared for his ideas, and instead simply followed the best fight around, and Megatron allowed him to indulge his most violent instincts.
And indeed, perhaps once upon a time, Senator Shockwave was always followed around by his kin, Shockblast, who protected him and was his advisor, the one to act as the man on the street and keep him level. Shockblast was a warm guy, vibrant and cheerful, and so when the Functionalists came for his brother, they took him too. They performed Shadowplay upon him, and cut away everything in him that was anything besides bloodlust and obedience.
They made him a monster, then, and it was small wonder he came to the Decepticons. He could only fight and obey, and they provided both. The Autobots ask that you choose, and there was no choice for him.
There was no choice, either, when he drank Unicrons blood, but now... now there is choice for him.
Something woke up along with the thirst for the blood and essence of other beings, and though his need to fight and destroy is more potent than ever, the Shadowplay is gradually fading away. Becoming a Terrorcon has ‘woken up’ Shockblast, and now he is able to make his own choices; incrementally, the old Shockblast is coming back, though he has changed enough with his current nature.
As of now, he is no longer affiliated with the Terrorcon Horde or Megatron; he is largely independant, working as a mercenary to anyone who can pay his price and direct him to a worthy fight. Each battle helps him understand himself better, and he hopes that through the joy of battle, he will be truly free.
It’s a surprisingly philosophical notion from a ‘Con who constantly trolls everyone and generally acts like a combination of Team Fourstar’s Alucard and Marvel’s Juggernaut on his more boisterous days. According to Shockwave, this is a sign that Shockblast has really become himself again!
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Head Canons for the DJD running into a very powerful Female-Human-Witch? The kind where they can jinx you simply just by thinking it. (Ex. She says out loud "Tarn, Silence!" and he can't talk, or make any kind of noise! She gives it back afterwards by saying "You were saying, Tarn?" as a response of being interrupted.) Bonus: She let's nearly everyone around her think her powers work by the snap of her fingers but nope! It's just for show. She also knows that The Pet = Dominus Ambus
The Decepticon Justice Division
Tarn
- Tarn wouldn’t have paid muchmind to the fact that you seemed to have a ridiculous level of good fortunewhen evading the fate that the DJD intended for you except for a few factors.Firstly, it was humiliating that they were unable to overcome a singlephysically inferior organic lifeform. Secondly, you had gotten in the way oftheir progress on The List. That could not be forgiven. And finally, when thetwo of you last met, you had the audacityto cast a Glamour on yourself to take on the appearance of Lord Megatronhimself. You were clearly a skilled Glamour artist since your magic perfectlycaptured both his image and his mannerisms, and worse, he had been fooled.
Nickel
- When Tarn realised that you were actually awitch and clearly not only embracing your heritage but talented at the ancientmagicks, he had Nickel investigateyou. He knew she would do a good job of it due to her acute hatred of organics.It gave her focus. She was more than happy to try to explain your abilities, dissectand analyse them and find flaws and weaknesses, however… magic is not somethingso easily standardised. As far as she can tell, the snap of your fingers is theonly warning before you cast a spell and there doesn’t seem to be a clear guaranteedway to contain you. When Tarn suggests that they recruit you for the sake ofirony and to further degrade their victims by having them die at the hands ofan organic, she’s aghast. Not at the possibilities of horrific torture for thevictims, obviously, but really, an organicjoining the DJD? While she may never quite grow accustomed to your presencethanks to her previous experience with organics, you may grow on her as shegets to know you better.
Tessarus
- When you join the DJD Tessarus is content to acknowledge your use as an asset to thecause. However, he quickly warms up to you on a personal level when he realiseshe can get out of check-ups and appointments if he lets you snap your fingersand magic away damage and grime that builds up from missions. You also act asthe voice of reason when one of the more volatile members kicks off, and herespects how you act as a firm mediator for their merry band. You help them inmany ways, from patching them up to reading the future to predict outcomes ofconfrontations. Despite the clear advantage here though, he still feels extremely tense whenever you challenge orspeak up to Tarn. Luckily for everyone, Tarn seems to only be further convincedby this that you are worth keeping around, even when you undermine or interrupthim. It still puts Tess and everyone else on edge.
Helex
- Meanwhile, Helex is determined to find some weakness of yours from theget-go. He hates that an organic could be so powerful and refuses to accept it,constantly putting you in increasingly difficult situations in the hope thatyou won’t be able to handle it. This leads to you finding yourself with yourhands bound and immovable with a Decepticon victim becoming the victor as they areclose to overcoming a rather regretful Helex and The Pet. Forced to drop your façadein favour of saving your teammates, you transform the ‘con into a lovely pileof petals, much to his brief horror. After Helex gets over the annoyance thateven your apparent limit of having to snap your fingers wasn’t real, he developsa begrudging respect for you. Clearly, even a single human can be immensely powerful.
Kaon
- When he hears of how you saved The Pet, Kaon is instantly won over. He doesn’tparticularly care that you’re a human organic, he’s just glad his companion is OKand he has you to thank for it. He doesn’t mind that you spend a lot of timewith his ‘pet’ either, even when he’s not there to supervise. The three of youwill often spend time together with him telling you about his duties with compilingthe hitlist and being communications officer, and you showing him flashy magic ‘tricks’and The Pet… Chewing on some poor unfortunate Decepticon’s transformation cog. Uh-Oh,Tarn probably wanted that. You’d better fix it with magic. It’s a good thingyou’re such a problem-solver.
Vos
- Vosis impressed when one day you talk to him in Primal Vernacular. Especially sosince most organic vocal chords should not be able to produce the unique soundsof ancient Cybertronian, certainly not a human. When you explain that you’reusing a form of distortion magic to make him perceive you to be speaking in hispreferred language, it piques his interest. Does the distortion work on all senses?All Cybertronian senses? His victimswon’t thank you for his apparent new-found ability to appear out of nowhere oramplify the agony his ‘face’ has wrought on theirs to their entire frame, buthe will certainly thank you for it. He’s also glad to have one more person hecan chat to.
Bonus: Dominus Ambus
- You cotton on to his true nature more or lessfrom the moment you first encountered him, so whenever you get the opportunity youuse your magic to sift through the fragmented memories and self-perception tore-construct a temporary echo of his past self. He’s amusing to talk to, andsometimes, when he becomes more aware of his situation, he’ll ask you to helphim – send a message to the Autobots, sabotage a mission, whatever it takes.Lucky for him you’re a witch or you might have had moral qualms about theslight betrayal of the Division. As it is, you’re quite happy to indulge him solong as the tasks he requests of you have entertaining consequences. He makeshis gratitude known to you when you provide him enough coherence to do so, butit’s unnecessary. You are, after all, self-interested in this ordeal.
#MTMTE#Lost Light#DJD#Tarn#Nickel#Tessarus#Helex#Kaon#Vos#The Pet#Dominus Ambus#Admin Snowy#Reader is a wicked witch#Because lets face it a good one wouldn't get involved with the DJD
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