#pax writes

[the-cinnamon-snail]

Quick people give me cursed object ideas [I'm not sharing what these are for till later]:

(mine so far include)

A gun where any shot fired causes the one who got shot's causality. Like. If you shoot someone in the foot they'll fall and snap something or it'll immediately get infected and kill the person. This is definitely a downside also, because warning shot's don't exist. If you shoot a bullet it will cause a death. That's it.

Glasses that allow the wearer to create any illusion that is unable to be seen through, until the user tells any kind of plain lie. Then the illusion shatters or makes it obvious that it's fake. Maybe a group with a pair of glasses that can see through any illusions no matter what, but you have to spill secrets and/or tell lies to get them to work.

A jacket that grants the wearer invisibility, but you can't stand still while being invisible. If you aren't consistently moving the invisibility will call away. So you need to be constantly moving while not making the tiniest noise, otherwise it's useless. Finger tapping can only do so much, it'd have to be at a very rapid pace and not coming into contact with anything capable of making noise for it to work.

A magical chain that has infinite length and strength, and can contain anything or anyone. The downside is, however hard something is squeezed with the chain, the user will have that exact same amount of pressure put onto themself. So if you wanted to say, use enough pressure to break someone's arm, you better hope you can take more pressure on your arm than they can, or it'll break yours too.

#just posts #pax writes #technically #sorta #that's all I got right now. any more ideas?

[withered-tears]

Orion finds himself, for lack of a better term, playing with Megatron's fingers.

They are fascinating, in a way.

One would think the hands of a miner to be rough and clumsy.

But no. They are sturdy, thats for certain, but they have such a gentle touch.

Magatron resets his voicebox in a snort.

"Of course they are. Miner's hands must be strong enough to dig through raw material. But that strength would be all but worthless if we crushed any precious resources we stumbled across every time we tried to extract it from the walls."

Orion chuckles. "So your hands must be strong enough to be gentle. Like you, then."

Megatron laughs and effortlessly lifts Orion's thin frame into the air as the lightweight he is.

A lifetime later, Otimus Prime sits silently on the infirmary.

He watches as Ratchet welds closed the gouging claw marks the lattlest battle left in his armor.

For the millionth time, he mourns the loss of a gentle touch.

---

@quetzalpapalotl slides some more megaop angst your way uwu

#transformers #megaop #my writing #optimus prime #orion pax #megatron

[brandwhorestarscream]

Tbh I really love the idea of, during the Orion Pax arc, Megatron just tells him "yeah you took the matrix but it completely warped you into someone else. It ruined our relationship, the other guy puppeting your body became my sworn enemy, and we've been fighting for like 4 million years". And Orion ofc remembers none of that but hates every bit of it.

And later, the autobots have to drag Orion back kicking and screaming and force the matrix back into him, because he DOES NOT WANT THAT SHIT!! That stupid old boomerang took all his memories and made him into a different person! He forgot all the love he had for his would-be mate! It made him turn his back on the oppressed people that actually needed him! It destroyed the life he and Megatronus were going to build together! No, no, NO! He's not going back and you can't make him! Fighting with all his strength to get away from them, struggling to hold his chassis closed, yelling as loud as he can for Megatronus to help him and not let them take him away a second time

#megop #im such a sucker for this ok #orion pax #tbh i should write a mini what-if series wherein Orion gives the bots the middle finger and stays with his boyfriend 🤔

[mskenway97]

Orion and his little human snuggling up into his neck 🥺 while he smiles and pet their head with a digit hngngngng

Awww I died of tenderness 🥰🥰.

You've given me to write this little drabble:

Your situation had become somewhat peculiar. Your ship crashes and you have nowhere to go back to... so you have a big robot who has decided to keep you without knowing his intentions and so on.

The bad thing is that you couldn't explain anything to him just because he didn't understand you. You looked like a kitten trying to get attention. Partly you were embarrassed to do so since you were only getting pats on the head, much to your dismay.

You had stopped trying so hard a few days ago. It wasn't worth it, you sighed as you looked out the window. You admired the cybernetic atmosphere of the buildings. You started to think about your own home, if you would be missed. You were doing all this for survival... You had tried several times to sneak away.

You just wanted to go back... It was the only thing you wanted and that someone at least understood what you were saying.

You sighed to hear some footsteps you knew it was him but you were not in the mood to show a fake smile. You didn't feel like pretending... There he was with his smile and you didn't even flinch to see that his expression had changed to what appeared to be concerned.

You were so deep in thought that you felt his servos pick you up and leave you. Again, that butterfly sensation that you tried to ignore but couldn't. You were surprised that this time it was the same.

You were surprised that this time he left you on his shoulder... You took a comfortable position... It was pleasant, you felt some warmth while you felt a caress on your head.

It gave you nostalgia... and memories of how you were taken care of before.

For a long time you started to feel like at home...

#sam writes #optimus prime #transformers #orion pax #transformers one #tf one #transformers x reader #transformers drabble #robot x human #tf onem #maccadam #maccadams #thanks fore the ask ikko... give chills write this ^^ #first contact #first contact au

[spreadwardiard]

Megatron Does NOT Drunk Call His Ex

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Megatron/Orion Pax, Megatron/Optimus Prime

Summary: Megatron laments his break up while watching Orion Pax's coronation as Prime on the holoscreen.

Notes: I wanted to try my hand at the whole 'drunk calling your ex' trope, and had some fun with it. Takes place in that time between the disasterous senate meeting and optimus being formally named prime by the government. This is TFP/ Aligned

Megatron scowled as he smashed his digits roughly against the keypad to his door.  The numerals on the far left section of the pad were stuck again, not wanting to register his touch. He swiftly punched the mechanism in annoyance, and then tried again.  Percussive maintenance did its job and the pin finally registered.  

He tried not to think about how Orion had complained about the lock for at least a vorn before… Megatron grumbled at himself to stop that thought. Thinking about Orion Pax brought nothing but pain, but even Megatron knew that nothing would stop the onslaught of thoughts, memories and feelings that were certain to come for him in the night. 

It was a battle he had lost many times before, ever since their separation. It was easier to call it that, rather than what it really was: a break up. One he hadn’t actually even wanted to happen. One that was his fault- 

Megatron took in a deep vent, tried to reorient his thoughts to anything but Orion Pax. How the slag was he supposed to do that when he fragger’s coronation as Prime was scheduled to air any klik now? He hadn’t even seen the mech in what felt like ages… not since the argument. 

Frag… He’d already lost the battle, and it had hardly even begun. Megatron’s scowl deepened as he admitted defeat, and against his better judgement, grabbed a bottle of his finest high grade. He grimaced as he actually looked at the bottle in his servo, decorated in golden filigree and ornately etched glyphs. It was the bottle Orion had given him in preparation for their Rites. The thought stung like acid rain. 

He snorted out a forced laugh. The idea of he and Orion binding their sparks seemed laughably distant now. How fitting that he consume the high grade now, for Orion’s big hurrah. He didn’t even grab a cube to pour it in. He wouldn’t need one, he knew himself. The bottle would be empty before the night was over. 

Megatron popped the lid and brought the bottle to his derma, prepared for a harsh, but effective, high grade to assault his glossa. He hated that it was delicious, that Orion had probably paid more for this bottle than Megatron spent on fuels for half a vorn. He hated that it was supposed to be special… shared between them… that he had ruined it. 

At least his revolution was still going strong. The betrayal of Orion Pax may have hurt Megatron personally, but it ultimately strengthened the resolve of his followers. It was a bitter victory, he thought as he slunk back into his sofa, limp as an old thermal sheet. 

If he hadn’t lost his temper and let his paranoia get the better of him, he’d be at that coronation with Orion, not having to watch it on the holoscreen. He took another drink, as large as his intake would allow, before he turned on the screen, and found the correct broadcast. 

The newsmech drawled on about the excitement happening in Trion Square. Thousands of mechs had arrived to meet the newly designated Prime. Megatron snorted again as the crowd cheered in excitement.  They were imagining a glorious leader to light their darkest hour, but all Megatron could envision was the dorky archivist that used to recharge in his arms and who couldn’t remember to fuel himself. 

The bottle was at his derma before the grief that followed the previous thought could hit him. It settled hot in his tanks, and he forced a smile at the knowledge that liquid relief would be imminent. Once the warmth set in, the dulling of his processor would soon follow, and that aching emptiness wouldn’t be so painful. 

He missed Orion Pax and now that nearly a dozen stellar cycles had passed, he would finally get to see him again. On the holoscreen… But that was better than nothing, right? 

The newsmech continued their useless prattle, and Megatron watched lazily as the cameras panned the crowd, every so often freezing on the ornately draped balcony that he assumed Orion would appear from. Even from his out of date holoscreen, he could tell how exquisite the embroidery on the drapery was. It must have taken vorns to do by servo. It looked distastefully splendent next to the polished golden accents that Iacon was known for. 

How many drinks had he had already? His processor was starting to feel a bit foggy. He couldn’t remember. He took another. It didn’t matter anyway. It wouldn’t change what he’d done. It wouldn’t bring back what he’d carelessly thrown away in a foolish fit of paranoia. 

Megatron was ruthless with his words that cycle. He tore into Orion like a vicious beast. Orion visibly crumbled at his accusations of betrayal, and when he accused him of using their relationship as a means to gain power, Orion looked as if Megatron had stabbed him through his spark chamber. He would never forget the pain that had flashed through Orion’s field… 

He was such a slagging fool… It wasn’t until after Orion went off the grid to seek out the Matrix that Megatron put it all together. Orion had never betrayed him at all. The entire situation was carefully orchestrated by the Council to drive a wedge between them, and it had succeeded in that aim. Now, Orion was their puppet, without Megatron there to fend them off and it was all his fault. 

Megatron tore his optics from the holoscreen and looked at the bottle in his servos. It felt too light, and it took him a moment to register that he’d already drank nearly half of it. Orion hadn’t even appeared yet… It wasn’t his fault this stuff was so slagging good. Besides… this was a ‘drink to forget’ sort of night, and he sure as slag hadn’t forgotten scrap yet. Megatron took another drink.

It was harder to focus on the holoscreen. The newsmech was now apologizing for delays. Megatron couldn’t stop a laugh at that. Typical Orion Pax; late for literally everything. He’d have been late to his own forging if that were possible. 

Slag… he felt heavy as a load of cement… What the frag was in this? He hauled the bottle up to his helm, and shuttered his optics, before squinting at the glyphs. He couldn’t focus on them, they just appeared as far off, fuzzy and jumbled nonsense. There was about a third of the bottle left…. Maybe he’d had enough?

He should apologize. Megatron knew that. He’d thought about it time and time again, usually when he was like this and had nothing else to distract him from his woes, but his pride refused to allow that. He never had been good at admitting when he was wrong, and was even worse when it came to apologizing for it. 

What would he even say? Where even was he to start? ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t feel sincere enough, and anything beyond that was likely to just be excuses for his behavior.  He deserved this… what he’d said was inexcusable. 

Megatron ex-vented heavily. His frame felt like dead weight, and the longer he allowed it to melt into his sofa, the more annoying the constant pinging in his hip strut was. How long had it been alerting him of his discomfort now? He wasn’t paying attention. The ache in his spark was worse anyway. He took another drink. 

It wasn’t fair. He wished he could share the enthusiasm shown by the crowd on the holoscreen, but how could that even be possible? With Orion now under the watchful optics of the Primacy, he was as good as lost. The Prime may have had power of his own, but they always followed the will of the Council. Orion would be no different. The Council had too much sway, too much power, for one mech to defy them alone.

The pinging of discomfort in his hip was becoming too much to ignore. He shifted his mass to the side just enough to allow gravity to crash his upper frame into the sofa cushions. The high grade sloshed dangerously in its bottle, but miraculously did not spill from his sudden readjustment, even as he pulled his legs up with him and shifted for relief. 

The holoscreen was mostly forgotten. Instead, he pulled up his HUD and braced for the inevitable sting as he selected an image from his gallery, of Orion Pax lounging in berth. He had a datapad in his servo, and a soft, gentle smile on his face as he read aloud some poetry from the collection he’d been browsing. The poem had been romantic, though Megatron couldn’t remember it now. Orion had only read it to him once, and afterwards they’d ended up indulging in each other’s frames. 

Megatron remembered the interfacing, not the poem, and it stung more than he would admit even to himself. He wished he would have saved a memory file so he could hear Orion recite it over and over again. He wished he could hear him recite anything right now. He hadn’t heard his voice since- 

He cut himself off by forcibly closing the image, which, unfortunately, landed him right at Orion’s commlink. He stared at it for several kliks, toyed with the idea of calling before shooting that idea down with a slovenly scoff. No, the time for that had long passed, and Orion would be too busy to answer anyway, if he even wanted to. He’d convinced himself long ago that Orion had likely already blocked him from contacting him anyway. 

He closed out of his HUD and shuttered his optics. His frame was running hot from the high grade, and his fans finally kicked in to dispel the excess heat. Slag… he must look as pitiful as he felt. The great and mighty Megatron, The Champion of the Pits, brought to his knees over a slagging break-up. He was patheti-

His self degradation was cut off by a loud and sudden ping. It was a comm request, marked urgent. It was from Orion. It flashed at him across his HUD in bold, red glyphs, but that was impossible. There was no way it was real… His mind was playing tricks on him again. 

His optics darted to the holoscreen. Orion was supposed to have made his debut some time ago, but even with his optical inputs distorted from the drink, he could plainly see that Orion Pax was not where he was supposed to be. The ornately decorated balcony was still empty, and several important looking mechs shuffled around in distress at Orion’s truancy.

Megatron’s intake went dry, and that aching emptiness in his chassis returned full force as he, against his better judgement, accepted the incoming request. He tried to speak, but found his vocalizer needed rebooting. 

“Megatron?... Please, don’t hang up…” It was him… He sounded different than Megatron remembered. The reverberation of his voice was slightly off, like his vocalizer was now housed in a larger frame, but the voice was unmistakably Orion. 

Megatron wanted to respond, but his rebooting vocalizer prevented him from uttering more than a distorted and shaky “Hmmm?” 

“Thank Primus, you accepted my call. I was worried you wouldn’t wish to speak with me. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner. There was so much happening, I hardly had a moment to myself befor-” It almost didn’t feel real. He’d so deeply convinced himself that he and Orion were too damaged for him to ever reach out. He had been certain that Orion had blocked him from contact. 

“...and after that I was taken to this strange tunnel system where they placed me in some purification pool…” Orion was rambling, but it didn’t matter. It just felt good to hear his voice again. It slid into Megatron’s processor like the richest of energon, and he was starving. 

“... -fter that I was chased by a small hoard of hibernating scraplets. I genuinely thought that I was going to offline down there…” This whole thing felt far too good to be true. Orion didn’t sound upset with him at all. There was anxiety in his tone, and judging by the speed of which he was speaking, he had a lot to say that he wanted, or needed to say quickly, but there was no anger or resentment, like Megatron expected.

“...-atrix of Leadership…” Slag… he wasn’t actually paying attention to what Orion had been saying this whole time, the high grade had only allowed him to process the smooth timbre of his voice. He tried to think back over what he’d heard, something about a pool of scraplets in a tunnel? . Slag… he still wasn’t paying attenti-

“Megatron… are you listening to me?” He flinched at the question. He was really regretting drinking as much as he had. If he’d have known Orion was going to comm him, he wouldn’t have had nearly as much. Megatron wet his derma before replying. 

“I’m listening.” He sounded weak, and he knew it. He hoped Orion didn’t catch the waver in his tone, his tell that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. 

Orion audibly sighed, but whether it was in annoyance or relief, Megatron couldn’t tell. 

“I know, I’m rambling, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that the Matrix makes me feel things far more intensely than I did before. All it lets me think about is you, and our last meeting… how I fragged everything up that cycle… How much I miss you. I’m sor-” 

It took him several kliks to actually process what Orion was saying. Did he say: missed? He felt his spark practically jump in its chamber. Was that actually what he’d heard? That couldn’t be right… not after the cruel things he’d said. 

“You miss me?” Orion went silent, and Megatron realized that he’d cut him off, mid-sentence, likely in the middle of something important. Something that he, again, wasn’t listening to. He grimaced at his stupid mistake.

“Yes, I did say that.” Megatron tried to sit up, but found he only had the strength to roll onto his back. His frame was too heavy for him to hoist up. He draped his arm over his optics instead, to quell the spinning as his processor tried to adjust to his movement. He definitely had too much. The high grade was flooding his frame now.  It was a struggle just to keep his optics open. 

“Will you say it again?” He cursed himself for how desperate his request must sound. Orion was silent for several kliks, but the time felt like eons as Megatron waited.

“Have you been drinking?” 

Megatron groaned at the question, and that seemed to suffice as an answer for Orion. 

“I miss you, Megatronus.” He let out an ex-vent that he wasn’t aware he was even holding in. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all? Maybe he hadn’t completely destroyed the bond he held so dear to his spark. 

“I miss you too…” Megatron’s words slurred together and came out a jumbled mess. He barely got them out. The bottle he forgot he was holding fell from his servos, and he flinched at the sound of it crashing into the floor, the remainder of its content’s splattering across the tiles. 

“Primus… you are absolutely slagged…” Orion laughed softly, and it sounded like bells to his audials. The soothing sound reminded him of cycles long past, when they were happy together. 

“I miss you, Orion.” That wasn’t what he’d meant to say… He meant to ask Orion what the slag was in that fancy high grade to make him act like this. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t fighting a system shutdown with all of his might. 

“Mega…” Orion’s voice wavered, and the pet name burrowed into his audials. Megatron wondered if he was going to cut the link. He wouldn’t blame him for doing so. He’d fumbled this opportunity in a grand fashion. “Can I come see you? Please?”

 Megatron almost couldn’t process that request. It was so far off from what he was expecting Orion to say that the glyphs simply didn’t make sense for several kliks. 

“Where are you?” Wasn’t Orion supposed to be doing that important thing right now? In Iacon? Halfway across the planet from him? Megatron turned his helm just enough to see the holoscreen. The balcony was still empty. The crowd was still in place. 

“I’m in Kaon… I-I fled my coronation and I… I didn’t know who else to run t-” 

“Please…” He didn’t even attempt to hide the desperation in his tone, he was too tired at this point. His frame may have been in the process of powering down, but his spark thrummed in a mixture of disbelief, longing and joy. 

“Give me just a few kliks… I won’t be long.”  Orion laughed again, clearly with relief and again Megatron was soothed by the sound more than he would care to ever admit. “Thank you, Mega. I was afraid you would turn me away. I was afraid we were…. Over.” 

“I don’t want us to be.” Megatron mumbled and vented softly. His processing subroutines were shutting down faster than he could reboot them. Orion said something after that, but Megatron could no longer process his vocals into anything that made sense. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. The blackout took him as Orion continued to croon softly to him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Megatron came online slowly in the morning. His helm was aching, but not as badly as he expected. He sank into his berth comfortably, and that helped to ease the discomfort his frame should have been feeling. After rolling onto his side, he slowly shuttered his optics, half expecting to be struck with pain, but pleasantly surprised that he was granted a painless view of his berth-side table. 

There was a nearly empty energon cube sitting precariously close to the edge of the table, with a straw sticking out of if. He couldn’t remember getting a cube before he shutdown… Come to think of it… he didn’t remember much of anything that happened after he fell sideways onto the sofa last cycle. 

He slowly sat up, while scratching the back of his helm as he tried to remember how the slag he’d gotten into his berth to begin with. He made a point of not recharging here. It was too big without Orion beside him.  

Orion! 

Orion had commed him last night! The ache in his processor surged as the memory of their conversation struck him all once. Orion called him and he bungled the entire conversation, but Orion had asked to see him.

Against his better judgement, Megatron swung his legs out of berth.  His left pede hitting the rim of something, and sending it careening against the berth-side table: a trash bin, likely set there in case he purged during the night. As he stood, the scent of fuel preparation struck his olfactory sensors. It smelled like fried mineral cakes and thickened energon syrup, the scent of the warmed syrup almost sickeningly sweet. His intake watered, and his tanks clenched in discomfort at their emptiness. 

There was no way… that had to have been a dream, a recharge flux from the high grade and the torture of watching Orion’s coronation.  A hallucination created to torment him for his mistakes.. Right?? There was no way Orion had really come and put him to berth, with a drink… right? 

He lurched towards the door, pausing only long enough for it to register him and open before stumbling out into his living quarters. He could hear the fuels sizzling in his prep station. Slung over the back of the sofa was a thermal sheet, folded, with a pillow resting on top.  

 It must be Soundwave… he must have checked in on the security feeds and saw him passed out on the sofa, and had come to clean up the mess. That had to be it… Even so, it he found more difficult to draw in a vent the closer he came to the dividing wall separating his living space from his fuel preparation area. 

“Megatron? Are you online?” 

Megatron paused in his steps as the unmistakable voice filled his audials. His intake went dry the moment he tried to speak, and he found himself at a loss for words. It wasn’t all a dream. Orion had called him.  He had wanted to see him. He was here… Right there, on the other side of the wall. 

He rounded the corner, needing to see it to truly believe it. Orion stood with his back towards him, obviously engrossed in the meal he was preparing. His frame was new…. He no longer wore a civilian model. He was taller, with a much sturdier chassis than before, and his arms thick with armor and weaponry. It was clearly the make of a warframe, but his colors were the same, familiar red and blue.

He finally felt like he could vent again, and when he did so, Orion turned his helm with a hopeful grin on his face. Their optics met, and Megatron had to rest his weight upon the wall to keep upright. He was beautiful. 

“Orion…” It was all he could say as a million thoughts and words tried to bombard him at once. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to apologize for, so many questions he wanted to ask. 

Orion shut off the flame on the unit, and slid something onto a plate before turning around fully. 

“I know there are many things we need to discuss. But I hope that it can wait until after breakfast. I made your favorite.” Orion held up one of the plates, stacked with mineral cakes, to emphasize his point, and as if on queue, Megatron’s systems loudly pinged a low fuel warning.

Orion laughed. “I guess I still have perfect timing. Sit down, I’ll bring it to you.” 

It was like they hadn’t fought at all… Megatron sat at the table, forcing a reboot to his vocalizer. Orion sat a hefty plate of mineral cakes in front of him, followed by utensils and the thickened syrup, ready to be poured. 

Orion sat down across from him, and reached across the table, where Megatron eagerly met him with his own servo, curling their digits together, as they used to do before meals in the past. His palm was warm, and it radiated down his frame, directly to his spark. Megatron looked up to see Orion smiling at him, in what appeared to be relief. 

Megatron returned the smile, before withdrawing his servo, his nerves now eased. Things were going to be okay, better than okay, if the cakes were anything to judge it by. Orion’s field tentatively reached out to his own, and he replied with his own. It was a quiet reunion, but it let him know that their love still stood strong, and that knowledge allowed him to fully enjoy his refueling. 

Afterwards, they would work out the rest, together.

#spreadwardiard #megop #megaop #tfp megaop #megatron #orion pax #optimus prime #maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #literally just my spin on the drunk calling your ex trope #i thought it was FUNNY #i love a depressed megatron #but also love my happy ending fixitsXD #i hope yall enjoy reading as much as I did writing it!

[lucywrites02]

I have an idea that has been cooking in my head for a month now. I just wanted to write the general idea because I'm still figuring out the details and logistics of some plot points. You're welcome to tell me how you like this concept :3

Transformers Prime AU where Optimus somehow gets cursed to be a human. He lost his prime title because some higher power didn't like that he sided with humans (as I said, still working on the details 😭) (this is just a rough sketch of the plot)

OC/Reader has been an ally to the Autobots for a while. Optimus was really good friends with them and decided to come to them for help. The reader helps him out and let's him live at their place. It's quite domestic - they eat breakfast together and they cook together and they watch TV together. (Omg, and they were roomates)

You help him out however you can - you answer all his questions about humanity and the human body. He gets his first cold at some point, and he thinks he's dying. He had to get glasses because his eyesight was not the best. You teach him how to do laundry and how to do grocery shopping. You hold him close as he cries at night after a bad nightmare.

Optimus wants to get a job because you already let him live at your place for free, but you also paid for his clothes and extra food so he wants to be able to support you financially and pay his half of the bills. You help him get a job at the local library, and Optimus is really happy with that because he missed his days as an archivist back on Cybertro and this job reminds him of the good old days before the war. It makes him feel young again and comes to the realisation that this is the life he wants.

He wants to come home before your shift ends so that he can cook dinner for you. He wants to sit down on the couch after a long day at work and watch some kdrama on Netflix with you. He wants to have his morning coffee while the two of you discuss your plans for the day.

Optimus Prime doesn't exist anymore. And he doesn't mind it at all. He's allowed to be Orion Pax again.

#optimus prime #optimus prime x oc #optimus prime x reader #tfp optimus #tfp optimus prime #orion pax #orion pax x oc #orion pax x readet #human! optimus prime #humanformers #to write #my to do list #transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x oc

[lets-try-some-writing]

A Cycle Unending: Snippet #1

The Matrix must have something to fuel it as it empowers its bearer. A strong frame or a powerful spark.

Orion Pax had neither of these when he took it, and his life became limited. Thus, to ensure that the Autobots would not be destroyed in his absence, he created a means to continue on, if only in spirit.

(I be thinking up more angst. Don't judge me its almost finals I'm stressed.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━

[PRIME-0]

To take the Matrix was an honor. That was what the priests told him.

Orion believed them. Optimus did as well. 

“You will not last long. Your frame was too weak to accept this burden.” Alpha Trion stood by his side, holding Optimus’s shaking servos. The Master Archivist was right. Looking at his frame it was clear he did not have much time left. The Matrix was sucking him dry, ripping away vitality and youth with a viciousness that was not intended.

The relic needed a strong frame or a strong spark to fuel it. Optimus had neither. When he took the relic, his body was beaten from the first fires of war and his spark was weary from so many sorrows. There was nothing for the Matrix to consume, and thus it was beginning to devour him. Optimus could tell it did not want to, the relic almost seemed to weep as it worked.

But there was always a cost for power. And this… This was the consequence of his decision to accept the gift Primus bestowed.

“How long do you believe I have?” Optimus’s voice rumbled, deep, gruff, and worn. Over the course of a mere few stellar cycles, he had aged exponentially. Taking the Matrix left him spry and willing to take on the world at first. But with time, that strength faded into cold and uncaring wisdom that spoke of a grim truth.

He was going to die soon.

“A few stellar cycles at most. Your frame was only strong enough to withstand it for a vorn, and half that time has already passed.” Optimus bit his lower derma, anger and anguish building up in his vocalizer in a pained cry he refused to voice.  The Matrix was too much, too powerful for his spark and frame to handle. It would bleed him until he had nothing to give and his people would have no one to lead them. Megatron would rule their world, and countless innocents would perish in his rage. It could not be allowed. Optimus could not leave his people so soon.

“I will not abandon my people. I will not leave them without a leader.” He spoke with conviction, his mind already running through any possibility that yet remained. He doubted he could preserve his life, but perhaps he could find a way to ensure his people endured.

“You won’t. There may yet be a way to ensure Cybertron always has a Prime to guard it.” Alpha Trion’s rumbling voice washed over him, soothing Optimus’s turbulent thoughts. If Alpha Trion believed there was a way, then Optimus was inclined to believe him. His master had not been wrong yet. 

“What must I do to ensure this?” He could feel creases under his optics shift as he looked up at his mentor. He had not been marked by such things before. Age was catching up to him so quickly that he hardly had time to process it. There was not a single moment to waste.

“Come with me. We shall begin work immediately.” Alpha Trion pulled on his servos lightly, his field wide and almost desperate. Optimus vented deeply and nodded. Whatever was to come needed to be completed quickly. He could feel his strength fade with every passing cycle.

Time was not on his side.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You are sure this will work?” Optimus adjusted his glasses as he leaned on his cane. His vents came in tortured rasps, age having taken its toll. He could hardly see even with his glasses, but he still understood what he was looking at.

“Yes. The cycle has been completely automated. As long as those who come after you contribute what is required of them, there will always be one to carry the mantle.” Optimus nodded as he sensed Alpha Trion begin to shift away. A young life flared within his spark chamber, one he had been cultivating for the last few stellar cycles he had left. It had no other parent. The newspark was a piece of him and him alone.

For that reason, it would be weak. But because it was of him, it would be accepted by the relic he bore.

“Will they live longer than me?” He voiced his burning question, sorrow growing deep within him as he felt the newspark in his frame shift and flare. No one deserved this fate… but it was better that one line carry the burden rather than leave a whole world hanging by a thread, hoping one of their Primes would be worthy.

“No. Their frames will be stronger, but without an additional contribution of CNA, their sparks will not have the fortitude to withstand the Matrix for much longer than you.” A shaky vent escaped him as Optimus stepped forward and placed his servo on the glass of the tank in front of him. He hated that this was the fate he had condemned his line to. But who else would be able to shoulder the burden? Who else would have the knowledge and the wisdom to fight against Megatron effectively? 

It had to be him. There was no other choice. 

“Will they care for my loved ones as I do?” Worry grew within him as he thought about all those that he would be leaving behind. Elita-One, his dear Conjunx, would be without him soon enough. How long had it been since he’d seen her? He honestly couldn’t remember. Once he knew what the Matrix was doing to him, he pulled away from everyone. He didn’t want them to see him as he fell apart.

Ratchet, Jazz, Prowl, Ultra Magnus, Ironhide, Springer, Kup, Blaster… how many others would suffer in his absence? Would they even know he was gone when all was said and done?

Was it really worth it?

“They will be perfect copies in frame and memory, but every spark is unique, even ones split from a singular source.” Optimus sighed as he registered the answer given. There was no assurance that those who came after him would care for his loved ones as he did.

Yet another cost he had to pay for their people’s salvation.

“I understand.” His voice echoed in the cold underground lab. He dreaded the feeling of loneliness those who came after him would experience. Forged into such a clinical and lifeless place… it was horrific. Still, it was the only way to keep them safe until they could take up their inherited function.

Slag, he really was just as bad as the Council. Here he was, deciding the future of countless sparks, giving them a function they may or may not despise and predetermining their entire lives. How cruel he was…

“I’m so sorry. To all those who come after me, I pray that you may find it in your sparks to forgive me.” He leaned against the glass of the pod, tears gathering in his optics as he felt the newspark within him flutter in concern. It would not be long now. Soon, the cycle would begin.

He could only pray that it would have an end.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

[PRIME-1]

From the moment he opened his optics for the first time, Optimus saw the world differently. 

He didn’t notice much at first. His inherited memory guided him into integrating into normal life perfectly. There was work to be done and he was young and excitable. He wanted nothing more than to live each cycle to the fullest and end the war as soon as possible. That was his design, and the memory left to him told him as such. 

It felt so close to him. For in his optics, each cycle had the weight of an entire millennia. To his young mind, all he had to do was speak to Megatron and things would work themselves out. The original knew Megatron, and he was sure his inherited memory would afford him the diplomatic power he needed. He did not realize how different he was when he saw how deep the grudges between Cybertron’s citizens ran.

He learned he saw things differently when he looked at his fellows. They felt almost alien to him at times with how distant everything seemed for them. Ratchet would easily devote whole stellar cycles of his life to a single project or thought without hesitation simply because the time meant nothing to him. Jazz would wait in solitary positions or live undercover for vorns at a time when required, never flinching or hesitating. Optimus could hardly comprehend that level of dedication.

Blaster would put his very spark into communications and song, entire deca-cycles lost in a blur of rhythm and composition. Prowl would live and breathe his office and the work therein, never so much as stepping out unless summoned. Optimus did not doubt the officer would remain in his office for entire millennia if left to his own devices. Even Ultra Magnus’s actions left Optimus reeling. He could barely comprehend the level of dedication the commander put into filing and keeping things organized.

The things they saw as so minor, so very miniscule… Those things accounted for almost the entirety of Optimus’s lifespan. It was impossible for him to view the world as they did. Time was a precious thing for him, and every decision he made was all the greater because of it. He knew his time was limited, and so he did everything in his power to make the most of it. His fellows did not understand when he threw himself into battle to plead with Megatron, using the memories he was gifted to speak reason. There was no way they could comprehend how much it hurt him when he failed to succeed in his mission. 

All those around him operated on such grand scales. They couldn’t understand why Optimus tried to move so quickly, why he pushed for offensive strikes and peace talks one after another without end. They tried to tell him to stop, to bide his time.

He couldn’t afford to do that. Six stellar cycles was all it took for his youth to have run its course. 

His limbs began to lose their strength, his enthusiasm dimmed and quieted. As age began to creep upon him, he looked upon his creased face and began to understand. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t angry. He was content in his life running its natural course. His fellows would be horrified if they aged so rapidly, but they saw the world in millennia. Optimus viewed it all in cycles, each just as important as the last.

His time for proactive action was over. His duty was to ensure that everything stayed in one piece until it was time for the next one to take his place. His life had not been without meaning. He had gathered knowledge, and with his knowledge, the one who came after him would know better than to waste his limited life trying to speak to Megatron the way Optimus had.

He knew when the time was right. The cycle he found himself unable to walk without pain, he smiled in contentment and bid his inner circle farewell. He walked the same path he followed when he was freshly forged. Now world weary and aged, he entered the place he was created and collected one of the many datapads lining the walls. It was empty. They all were. Each was to be a record, a comprehensive collection to be consulted when the memory of the dead was too great to bear.

He settled in the only chair in the clinical space and wrote of his experiences. It was pleasant, a final farewell in a sense. His life had been short, but it had not been without meaning. He was the first, it was to be expected that he would fail. 

As he finished his writing and put the pad away, he vented deeply. Part of him wanted to be afraid as he stepped into the pod that had given him life. But as liquid rose and his consciousness faded, he found himself content.

The cycle would continue.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

[PRIME-5]

Optimus had known it was going to happen eventually. Those who came before him tended to spend their final cycles concerned, worried that this exact scene would play out for them or their successor. Up until his life, there had been no need to really think about it. All of the friends the original made became their friends as well. There was nothing strange. It simply was. Even the lingering fear of connections the original held becoming problematic wasn’t much of a concern since most were scattered across the planet.

But of course, being the fifth, it seemed he was the unlucky mech who needed to face the Conjunx of Orion Pax. 

“You aren’t him.” Elita-One stared him down with a stoic expression. Her field was held close and her optics flared with grief. Optimus didn’t even bother to lie. The memory he held told him it was a waste of effort.

“I felt our bond shatter into a million pieces five vorns ago.” Her servos clenched into fists and her frame shook as she tried in vain to remain composed. Optimus held no affection for the femme before him, but the original had loved her dearly enough to send her away as he faded. Optimus would not dare disrespect ties made long before his forging.

“And yet here you are. A perfect copy.” Her voice dipped into a sob, anguish building in her field in stuttered bursts. She was hurting despite how long it had been since the original passed away. Optimus’s fellows really did see things so very differently. What was five generations old to Optimus was a fresh wound to the femme before him.

“Tell me. How are you here? How is it that you bear his name and his face?” Elita’s lower derma wobbled as she gazed up at him, hope and anguish mixed into something so powerful Optimus almost wanted to weep alongside her. What was he to say? What would ease her pain?

There wasn’t anything he could do. The original was long dead, and Optimus was one of many. 

“The Matrix was too powerful for him to carry. It is too great for all of our number.” The femme paused, watching as Optimus knelt down lower, showing her his face. Her expression fell as she saw him, understanding beginning to dawn in her optics.

“Someone had to carry this burden. And so he and all those who have and will come after him are given this great mantle.” Elita touched his face, her digits running along the creases that were already forming. Optimus was six stellar cycles of age, and with his prime behind him, he was beginning to deteriorate. 

“We do not live long, but I and those who come after me will do everything in our power to fill the void he left behind with the vorn we are afforded.” Tears fell from Elita’s optics. Optimus smiled gently. He felt nothing for this femme, he could not be the mech she wanted. But he could be a friend, a companion until his time came and his successor would have to take up the mantle.

“This was the choice he made. We are products of his love for you and all of Cybertron. And so, until this world no longer needs a Prime, we shall use what little time we have to make things better.” He brought Elita into a hug, memory guiding him as he did so. Elita enjoyed tender touch, even if it came from one who was not her Conjunx.

“I am sorry I cannot give you the love you have lost… But if you would let us, we would be your companion until this cycle ends.” Elita sobbed and Optimus rubbed soothing circles onto her back. She was not his Conjunx, but she was part of his duty.

“I will stay with you until my time comes. Then, those who come after me shall take my place.” He spoke softly, allowing Elita to cry. She wept bitterly, cursing and hissing at the original until she could give nothing more. Optimus held her through it, a soft song escaping his vocalizer.

His life had no success when it came to ending the war. But a wound was healed, and his interactions with Elita-One lived in his memory as a beacon of hope. Stellar cycles passed, and when the time came for him to traverse the long path back to his birthplace…

He did not walk alone.

“Thank you for everything.” His murmur was lost as he entered the pod, the newspark that would take his place fluttering in his chassis. The last face he saw was Elita-One’s, and he took pride in knowing that she was able to smile as the liquid of the pod engulfed him.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #elita one #alternate universe #lots of angst #clones #the matrix of leadership #orion pax #yeah this was a wild idea but I feel like sharing #lots more to write but for now enjoy

[cosmics-beings]

sometimes i think people forget that orion pax in some iterations was quick to anger and lowkey had anger issues and that transferred to optimus prime as a character. i don't think it's wrong to see him as an overly soft person (because i do, especially post war and when he is trying to heal) but i also like the exploration of his angry , furious side being explored. him losing his temper, him punching the wall, him yelling or screaming, terrifying those around him because he's supposed to be their leader, he's supposed to be calm and level headed.

why is he resorting to violence, why is he acting like a decepticon?

and then the realization is they didn't know orion pax, they didn't know the struggles he had attempting to fit into autobot society. the anger that followed him, the way becoming a prime didn't calm him it made him angrier....

idk i love a good soft boy orion pax and optimus but i also love ones filled with rage and anger.

#yes...i am writing an optimus/orion pax fic #where is angry and violent tendencies are explored #orion pax #optimus prime

[typingfool]

𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; din djarin

Pairing; Din Djarin x gn!Reader

outline —; Peaceful times with Din Djarin were rare. You relish it.

word count —; 1.1k

WARNINGS —; none.

tags / themes —; reader and din are married, grogu (sweetly) interrupting a moment.

A/N —; *comes back with a massive stars wars obsession* hey, i write for them now. it's been a stressful couple months and i wanted to get something out for my birthday. this isn't beta-read, i just wanted to write. please be kind, thanks.

This galaxy raised warriors, heroes, and peace-keepers. Those who fought in the name of their planet, for the safety of the future, and the love they carry for their family. Those who were victims of war survived… or trained to survive, fight, and endure. 

This galaxy isn’t raised for writers, painters, and performers. Those who coped in whomever’s name, for the sanity of themselves, and possibly for the love they carried for their crafts. Of course, artists don’t only do it for themselves. They create in order to escape; and luckily enough, they don’t press themselves into the cruel hands of the galaxy. Because it isn’t built for them. 

For you, the galaxy seemed to test the waters. Warriors and Artists? Maybe those two weren’t so different, after all. Oh, how history would have written it; when the stars collide, an artist with no place in this galaxy meets a warrior who can’t find a home. Those three long years, what an adventure it has been. 

Din Djarin is a victim of war. Like yourself. There truly is a place for people like you. But whilst Din grew up with the Way, you grew up tracing the sky, seeing shapes in every landscape, and memorising the curve of someone’s face. Often asking yourself questions like; Where does the shadow fall? In which direction does the light come from? If you were simplified, which shapes best describe you? 

Din Djarin is a Mandalorian. Not like yourself. A Mandalorian. A warrior. He trained and connived his way till he stood in this solid home. He grew up hidden, so he stayed that way for a while in his life; often a mystery to the Guild. 

“Din Djarin, do not move.” You warned, tilting your head as the heat of Nevarro’s sun hit your face. The chair, in which you sat, rocked back slightly at your movements. With arms outstretched, thumb against the pencil, you held it feebly upwards, trying to calculate the proportions of the Mandalorian’s body. 

If you could see his face out in the open right now, you would’ve caught on with the fact that your husband — your riduur — was smirking. And decided to tilt his head in the opposite direction for the fun of it. You clicked your tongue in annoyance but a smile adorned your face. “I’ve been in this position for fifteen minutes, ner runi.” Din sighed softly, tapping his ungloved fingers against his forearm. 

“Fifteen minutes more.” You looked at him over the rim of your notebook, sketching away. A light fire went on above your head, face lighting up as the same smile adorned your features. “I’ll entertain you, what’s our son doing?” You asked, raising your notebook down to tilt your head at him again. 

Din chuckled at your demeanour or was it your question? You couldn’t tell, though he answered anyway. “Eating frogs.” 

“Again?” You turned to look at the side to see your son doing so; eating frogs. Entirely, it was your fault for looking away. At the time your eyes left your riduur, Din got up, breaking your focus. “Din!” You laughed as you looked back at him.

Your Mandalorian called your name with the same energy. His next words were spoken in a gentle manner, enough to capture your attention. “I’m tired,” He merely said, extending his hand to you. “Let’s be tired together.” 

You let a relieved breath. Has it always been there? You weren’t sure, though, at this moment, you let it go. You released it when settling your supplies down the chair in which you sat. You released it when you found yourself melting into Din’s hands. 

With the armour off, the world is all but noisy. The only sound prominent are frogs croaking and the gentle breeze of Nevarro’s ambience. He pulled you into his chest and laid his back against the frame of the metal door. 

Music. You could hear music, with your cheeks pressed against the warmth of his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you (and yours around Din’s waist). The world stopped, for a few moments it stopped, and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. The exhaustion left your body through that breath, and you could feel that Din breathed too. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. You could hear his gentle heart, if you listen close enough, you could practically hear his soul. What would it sound like? 

Move. Your body screamed to move, but a part of you wanted to stay like this forever. Though, the feeling caved into you, forcing your head to look at your husband’s visor. Your chin rested on his chest as you asked warily. “Can I kiss you?” 

Modulate. The Mandolorian’s helmet modulated his voice, if he answered in a chuckle, the other might receive it the wrong way. He didn’t want to move. The embrace held a significant peace, one that physically pained him when he moved a muscle. But Din didn’t speak with his brain at the moment, so he removed his helmet, and the beskar fell onto the floor beside them. 

They were in the middle of nowhere, what would you say? — All is well. — That sentence proved its point when Din held your cheeks beneath his hands, and his lips were on yours. He could feel you kiss back, he could feel your cheeks against his, he could feel the lazy smile that tugged your lips. Truly, Din wanted to open his eyes, to get a better look of you without his visor, yet somehow, he couldn’t. 

Din is tired. So tired. His shoulder gave in and melted between your arms; he didn’t know how it got there; your elbows above his shoulder, as your fingers explored his hair. But Din didn’t care, he just melted into your kiss, laughing, nearly crying over the unexpected bliss and peacefulness the day had to offer. 

His desires of staying like this with you continued to grow within each second— 

“Patu!” And then, the moment was sweetly broken. 

Your lips disconnected with a sound, pulling away the moment the sound was in ear-shot. Din’s eyes landed first on the green baby, doe eyed, ears high, and head tilted innocently. 

You saw him slurp a frog. “Grogu,” A waning smile reached your son’s lips when his name was mentioned, without warning, he jumped into your arms. Thankfully, you caught him. “That’s not nice of you. What if the frogs had parents?” You teased. 

Din chuckled beside you, kissing your temple lightly, before opening the door. “Let’s head inside.” He said while bending to get his fallen helmet. The gesture, so simple, caught you off guard. A soft, green hand held the base of your cheek and Grogu joyfully yelled with ‘‘Iek!’

Stepping inside, you looked around, almost nostalgically. This is your home. Reminded by Grogu and Din’s presence, a smile painted your lips. They are your home. “I’ll kiss you once more when he’s asleep.” He muttered before taking Grogu from your grip. 

Maybe there is a place for artists in this galaxy.

TRANSLATION(S);

riduur; spouse, husband, wife ner runi; my soul (*ner; my) (*runi; soul)

♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

#pax writes 🕯 #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x yn #the mandalorian x reader #star wars x reader #grogu #din djarin imagines #din djarin fanfiction

[iwozlegit]

|| 🍍• All of y’all out here acting like you’re the top Megatron apologist of all-time like it’s a personality trait…

…when this motherfucker exists

#|| ooc • #this is a reference to both Orion AND Optimus btw kids #and I’m calling myself out in this post too damnnnn hard #me and Op know what’s up #again we were robbed with the orion pax arc #megatron #optimus prime #orion pax #transformers #transformers shitpost #tfp #transformers prime #transformers aligned #megop #megaop #maccadam #|| jess speaks • #|| mun writes • #|| mun shenanigans • #@legitconcrusher

[the-cinnamon-snail]

What's specifically going on with the space sibs?

*I pull out a huge graphic organizer*

Hello! I am Paxtonical, Pax for short, and Paxton for medium. And welcome to my TED talk.

You See, I could write multiple paragraphs on this. Which I will. You brought this upon yourself.

-

As we all well know, this is Emery's Timeline. Here is the text version of that:

August 7th, XXXX: Siblings Split. Emery ends up on the streets of the mostly monarchy ruled planet.

October 17th, XXXX: Emery meets Wren, unaware of his status as he is currently sneaking out, etc.

March 1st, XXXX +1: Wren is revealed to be The Prince, Offers Emery a Ride-Along.

March 15th, XXXX +1: Emery becomes a Bodyguard for Wren and Ridley

November 21st, XXXX +1: Emery accidentally kills an assassin targeting the Royal Sibs.

November 28th, XXXX +1: Ridley, Wren, and Emery are now officially ready for anything together. Best Friends, just officially now.

January 4th, XXXX +2: Emery, Wren, and Ridley steal a small space cruiser and escape the now under attack castle.

July 6th, XXXX +2: Emery has a mental breakdown and is comforted by the Royal Sibs. +2 Older Siblings.

September 10th, XXXX +2: Emery and Royal Sibs take a rest stop on the abandoned planet the Twins are stuck on and find them, taking the two on board

December 16th, XXXX +2: Twins make a close to full recovery. Physically that is, Mentally still a bit fucked up. Get to know the person Emery has grown into and the Royal Sibs.

January 30th, XXXX +3: The group on the mini space cruiser lose slight control and begin free floating in space to save/keep energy for oxygen systems.

February 2nd, XXXX +3: Siblings and Co. Show up on the same resistance ship as Morgan.

-

Now that is the basic details! Here's more of what you don't see. In the following reblog. Energy gone. But it'll be there.

#pax writes #technically #sorta #ask #ask box #inbox #fren :d #just posts #Space War Siblings

[dancingundermoonlight101]

-Orion Pax's Diary-

Is there a right way to love? Or is love subjective to the one experiencing it? It is not often me and Megaronus speak on the subject. He thinks it is something only those privileged enough to not worry about death are allowed to feel and pursue. But that doesn't mean we haven't talked about it.

I have heard, whether he knows it or not, the exact way he'd love. He'd not be shy on compliments. Megaronus would admire the one he loves from head to pede and say out loud how beautiful they'd be. Gorgeous. He'd admire their frame silently, too. His optics full of worship.

It has me thinking about the way I love him. I feel like I'm lacking. I know subjectively that Megatronus is a very attractive mech, yet that's not what I think about when I'm with him. I think on the way he makes me feel, how his presence draws me in, and how his words always capture my attention. He is a melody I'd never tire of hearing. A flawed painting that I'd never tire of seeing. But even so, do I truly love him if I can't even compliment his looks? It feels like a no-brainer in my processor. Megatronus is undeniably attractive. But I feel like since it's such an obvious thing that it would be alright to not mention it. Primus, why am I even thinking about this? Megatronus doesn't love me. But.. if we were to be together. Would this be the cause of some problems? Would he want to receive compliments but find none with me? I don't want that. I want Megatronus to always know how much I love him! But do I really love him? Well, the answer is yes. But what if it's just deep admiration? Sure, my spark aches to think him betrothed to another, and I might already be planning a lonely future for myself where he's already conjuxed, and I can't let go of these feelings. But what if they're just that? Daydreams? Could I be in love with how unattainable he is?

My reason for thinking this is how often dreams I'm having include me and Megaronus possibly being together. Megatronus confessed to me in one of them, yet I felt conflicted. I wanted to emediatly say yes, but another part of me felt speechless. I didn't want to accept, but I didn't want to deny either. Neither I nor him are ready for commitment. He himself has told me that. I wouldn't want to selfishly jump into a relationship that won't last. I want me and Megaronus to be together for a long, long time. But these dreams keep reminding me how I'm likely not going to want a relationship with him without that trust that I'm not just a spur of the moment choice.

It's foolish and an insult to Megatronus to think him so shallow. He would definitely put a lot of thought into his decision. But the anxiety in my spark can't help but think that I'm not going to be worthy of such thought. That if he were to confess to me, I would just be the easy option because of how much I want to be with him. It hurts. I have never felt such conflicting feelings inside me. Would others judge me? "Why love a mech you can't trust?" Or "If you don't want to be something with him right now, why still pursue him?"

I love him, and I do trust him. I just don't trust myself. Who would love and cherish the thoughts and ideas of a boring librarian like me? I'm not even that attractive, nor am I strong. He would definitely want to be with someone as strong as him. His equal. Megatronus has a mind like no other. I hope that, if I try hard enough, I can stand together with him. At least in that regard.

He challenges my thinking, my way of life. I love how he inspires change in me like no other. Perhaps I have tunnel vision, but I see no other future I'd rather have than one where me and him are together. There would never be a day I wouldn't thank Primus for letting me be lucky enough to be with him. Where I wouldn't try my best to let him know how much he is loved. How he is worthy of every achievement. I would comfort him, too, to the best of my abilities when something is wrong.

I just.. want to experience all the good and bad that life has to offer with him. Forever. It's just.. not the right time.

Will there ever be a right time?

#megop #transformers #angst #megatronus #orion pax #optimus prime #megatron #megatron x optimus prime #i love writing #I'm sleepy #had inspiration #I just love talking about love #it's a drug #my drug #Orion loves Megatronus a lot #he just worries. a lot. #feels like he's not enough #or just not Megatronus's type #transformers prime

[unrelatabledude]

i have an au where kaname comes back and tries to adjust to crazy b by staying with rinne and hiiro for a while with himeru

#and its #rinhime #of course #pax art #himeruposting #himeru #rinne amagi #kaname tojo #hiiro amagi #kohaku oukawa #i want to say more but i also wanna write it #bonus: himeru got into a fight with rinne so purposefully calls hiiro by his first name instead of rinne to piss him off. #kaname HATES everyone but he hates rinne and kohaku most of all #hands OFF oniichan STOP hogging him #enstars #ensemble stars #ensemble stars!! #brothers home #i love kaname so fucking much guys lmao

[myloveforfanfictonisendless]

Me hyping myself before I open my Wattpad or Tumblr every night

My mind: Are you ready to read yet another amazing tf fanfiction

Me: yea...

My mind: To be deeply invested in the fascinating creation manifested by the fingers of those authors pushing you in believing yourself to be "All are one"

Me: Yes!!!!

My mind: Only to find the the story being disconnected and leaving you heart broken until the history repeats itself the "X"th time

Me:

This is to all the authors or artists I have seen or met here or in any other platforms.

People hounding creators for updates and them feeling disconnected enough to produce nothing of their own liking or standard often results in the discontinuation of some of the most amazing stories and art work I have the honour to witness

It is something I see and sympathize often.(as I also write once in a while)

Despite all of that they still write amazing stuff daily so thank you for your hard work is all I wish to convey them.

@lets-try-some-writing-draws @lets-try-some-writing @spreadwardiard @staticoctopus @no-eyj000 @nilawii @tfp-enthusiast @th3e-m4ng0 @transfrmrs @umaia3aurart @robotsaremymuse @robot-horde @lucywrites02 @tamales78 @cyberrose2001 @searchingforatrail

#I am born ready to be heartbroken like this #if you can relate reblog it #please don't hesitate to take break in between your writing #I understand how it is to write well thought story and how hard is writer block #satute to the author #they know how to write something #i love orion pax #not my art

[mskenway97]

I got the urge to write more drabbles, this time I have continued when orion shows d16 to the human:

D16 didn't understand why orion always disappeared when he least expected it, in fact it had surprised him that he had found an unknown ship, he was going to know more about the communication but it was cut off.

It was his problem, he said to himself, but he still went to look for him.

-Orion, what are you doing? We have already been told that this area is dangerous," said d16 as he saw that he was carrying something in his servos.

D16 stood with his optics wide open to see what that thing was.... It looked like a smaller cybertronian, no... it was different organically...

-In the name of Primus! What is that? - shouted D16 scaring that little thing that had covered what looked like its head.

- I found it in one of the crashed ships, there was never anything like it. It's like a version of us, it's like an alien," said Orion stroking the head of that being.

-You've gone crazy! It could be poisonous! - said D16 as orion handed it to him in his servos.

-It looks kind of hostile to you?" said Orion as D16 took a closer look.

Actually it didn't, D16 noticed its tremors and something in its eyes.... Maybe it felt threatened? No, it was scared... He lifted his digit to try to touch what seemed to be its face but it was resisting a lot. Until he had contact and moved the servo carefully, making the sensation calm the creature.

-Careful, it's delicate before it gave a squeak... when I lifted it off the ground," said Orion.

D16 had never held anything like this in his life, unlike metal it was a nice touch.

- We should leave it where it was," said D16.

Orion denied - its ship is destroyed... it's technology I don't know. But it looks like this little is trapped here," said Orion.

D16 looked again at that little being, being in this area he wouldn't survive.... In an unknown world, alone...

-We can take care of it... until we have more information about it. But don't let anyone else know," said D16 while Orion smiled.

-I knew you'd grow fond of it," Orion said as he looked down at the little boy who seemed to be calm in D16's servos.

Maybe having it among them wouldn't be so bad.

#sam writes #optimus prime #transformers #orion pax #transformers one #tf one #transformers x reader #transformers drabble #robot x human #maccadam #maccadams #first contact #first contact au #megatron #d 16

[spreadwardiard]

Hi my name is Ed and my favorite tfp trope is when orion pax and optimus are two entirely separate people with different motivations and desires. Whether they are housed together in the same frame or are entirely 2 separate mechs for whatever reason, i eat this trope up. Especially when theres megop in the mix omg.

#spreadwardiardthoughts #im like obsessed with this idea and have so many random thoughts on the whys and becauses #I wish i was able to actually write all these into full stories but my motivation js crap #like yes ive already written this trope a few times but like i got anothet one cooking in my brain too #megop #megaop #orion pax #optimus prime #tropes idk