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dontpetmeibite · 1 year

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Have you ever felt disgusted with Megatron? Or any of your partners. Bad things happened in the War.

I think that in most relationships, even where people haven't committed any war crimes, there might be moments of disgust. (Also, war--any war--involves bad things.)

I was absolutely disgusted with Megatron when the Lost Light and its alternate counterpart came into the same space and the ship started disappearing around us, and he allowed us to be locked in a storeroom together, and we had the first real talk that we'd had since the end of the war.

I actually attacked him, you know, and he let me. I drew blood when I slapped his face, and all he did was take my wrist in his hand and hold it until I calmed down.

I've never felt more like a fraud in my entire life. See, Megatron and I used to argue a lot about things, but he was almost always able to convince me to go along with things that I wasn't really comfortable with, because the mech has charisma, and a way with words, and because we have known one another almost all of our lives. I used the arguments on him that he had always used on me--and also on Deadlock, except Deadlock snapped and I didn't. "Everyone wobbles." "This is just part of being a Decepticon." "You'll see what I meant on the other side of this." And so on.

But none of them worked when I used them on him.

And for him to turn to the Autobots for decency, when Soundwave had been standing there right next to him for four million years, and we had made it clear so many times that we didn't like the new versions of the infiltration protocols, and that we'd rather have administered the populations of our client worlds than obliterated them, and I'd even asked him once why, if it didn't matter what shape or size or form people were, it should matter what kinds of chemicals we were made of. We were community organisers back in Rodion. We never used violence then except as a last resort. I was never a freaking pacifist because I knew we were going to have to kill off most of the Senate just to fucking survive, let alone do any good, but I didn't use violence against people who had less power than I did except as needed for self-defence.

And because Megatron loved us, he didn't have us taken out and shot. But he did remove us from any and all decision making and authority over subject worlds. Soundwave was particularly upset about all of the time he had spent setting up class warfare on worlds so that we could drive people like the Senate out of power and arrange for badly needed revolutions...only for Megatron to decide after a few million years that after that, he'd send in Phase Sixers instead of a planetary governor.

So yeah. I was furious. Angry. Disgusted.

I can't tell you why I didn't stop loving him then. Why I never have, even though we are not together like that anymore. I will say that I was very relieved when I found out exactly how much damage Trepan did to him before Rung stopped him, and why, and that Sunder had pulled out all the staples and stitches and threads without touching him on the Lost Light. I won't say that it excuses everything or even anything he did that was wrong. But it was very enlightening to discover that the original plan of the Senate had been to break his mind and turn him loose only to have him destroy his own revolution, and that it had actually worked, except it had taken four million years and they all died at our hands not knowing that it had succeeded.

Megatron and I have always had a very tangled, enmeshed relationship and I wouldn't say it was ever a 'healthy' one--whatever the fuck that actually means. I've come to feel, especially after meeting the jackrod, that Terminus to some degree groomed Megatron, and that he passed some of that on down to me. I used to laugh about the fact that people would misread some of his old poetry and come to the conclusion that he was Parvilla's parent/mentor rather than her lover. (Parvilla was my pseudonym as a poet and also the name that he gave me as one of his muses.) But it's actually a little creepy, and we've both acknowledged that in recent years.

That said, he was one of the first people I ever met who cared how much I was being hurt back then. We are still amicae, but we are no longer sexually involved.

The worst moment in my relationship life, though, was with Soundwave, who is also the person I love and have loved the most. After Megatron's public and embarrassing abdication and betrayal of the cause and of his people, Soundwave (after a lot of goading from Galvatron) ordered me to go after Megatron, and find out if he was serious about this Autobot business, and kill him if that was the case. I was furious with Soundwave and angry that he wouldn't step up to the leadership himself when he's a better person in every way than Galvatron, and I was also really angry that he thought it was acceptable to set me on my amica. I knew it was a sort of test and a cruel one--because I hadn't fully recovered from cassettification, and I couldn't really properly refuse the order.

But I also knew he was out of his mind with grief at the time, mourning the illusion he'd had of who Megatron was, and the damage that Megatron had done to us together and separately, and to our relationship, and the way in which he'd manipulated us both to get us to cooperate with him. I knew that Megatron had hurt him deeply, and more importantly, I knew that there had been times when Megatron and I (together) had caused him a lot of pain; and on the Lost Light, it became apparent that between him and Megatron, he was the one who actually loved me the most.

Riptide asked me once whether I'd choose Soundwave over Megatron and I told him to stop trying to commit suicide-by-cat in the heat of the moment but later I told him that the choice I had made was to choose myself. I let both of them know that they couldn't manipulate me anymore and that I wouldn't put up with it from either of them.

Megatron pulled one last stunt that cost him the benefica part of 'amica benefica' after that. But shortly before I left the Lost Light, Soundwave rescinded the order, and while I had had all the cassette protocols overwritten by Ratchet, I also forgave him for giving it, because I understood the stress that he had been undergoing at the time, and because I knew he knew why it was wrong and regretted it.

I love Soundwave more than anyone and Megatron more than most, but I've been disgusted with things that they did. What matters to me is that they, too, became disgusted with those things. You know, we were all horrifically mistreated in our early youth. We knew what we knew. We knew the way we were being treated was wrong, but we had to figure out how and why on our own. At the time, every moral authority we were aware of was telling us that we were in the wrong because we refused to submit to our superiors in caste and obey the orders we were given. And Cybertronians committed genocides before the Decepticons did, and if you don't think the Autobots committed atrocities, I will be happy to introduce you to my sister, who survived Garrus-9, or to point out to you that the MTO programme was nothing we would ever have come up with on our own if we hadn't had to fight an enemy who was already using it. We were enslaved by the Quintessons, and the Iaconian culture which led the rebellion overtook and attempted to eradicate most other Cybertronian cultures, and out from the centre it spread, like a plague.

I don't believe there's a single living Cybertronian over the age of one hundred (years, not vorns or millennia) who has managed to avoid becoming complicit in some atrocity or other. But I also don't believe that executions solve problems. All execution does is make a few people (not all of them) who got harmed feel a little better emotionally, at the expense of the mental health of the person who is ordered to kill a helpless prisoner, and at the expense of every possible act of atonement or expiation that person could ever commit in an attempt to repair the universe. Revenge shouldn't be outsourced.

I've had a lot of conversations about imperialism and colonialism and conquest with people in recent years, especially Marissa Faireborn, and Charlie Watson. And I'm sorry that the evolution of our culture came at the cost of so many other peoples and worlds, but at some point you just have to stop what you're doing and do better. Letting yourself be stuck in a singularity till the heat death of the universe, or letting yourself be murdered in public, doesn't fix anything.

And in the end, Optimus Prime's solution to the problem of Earth was to try to become a coloniser himself, and Soundwave and I are proud that we helped Earth's inhabitants stop and resist and apply to the Council of Worlds on their own, with Sanctuary providing encouragement and assistance but not attempting to trespass their sovereignty.

I've rambled a lot. Thanks for your patience. I do that.

#You get Voice of Stanix Ravage #because she's the only one whose future I know to give a comprehensive answer to this one #IDW Ravage died halfway through figuring a bunch of this out #ic #incidentally VoS does not have a planet destroying Unicron #like Primus was #he's just a little guy too

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ka-wa-bunga · 5 months

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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

This was supposed to come out YESTERDAY! Im glad I was able to get it done today though, can finally talk about his voice!

Ive thought a lot about what Diamond would sound like and I think I have a good idea

youtube

While singing I believe he'd sound EXACTLY like this!

When he's just talking though he'll sound a lot more raserved and quiet (unless he's with a group, which case he'd talk more firm and direct)

Before the great war he would have been seen as a monarch of theater, a paragon for lyrical arts. Diamond is such a fun character for me and I gotta stop favoring him over Airfrost and Stanix.

#transformers #transformers idw #transformers fanart #transformers oc #tf idw #ocs #original character #oc #oc art #maccadams #transformers g1 #tf ocs #voice claim lets gooooooooo #i promise ill work on my other ocs soon #Youtube

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daikougou · 7 months

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Hello from Ankokuyousai!

Independent Esmeral blog by @cleverthylacine; information for potential friends and followers below the cut.

Mun: @cleverthylacine, she/they, extremely adult. Go to my personal blog for demographics.

Verse: This is primarily a Voice of Stanix Esmeral (in other words, Transformers Victory Esmeral but in an IDW AU). If you haven't read VoS, Esmeral is Megaempress' daughter, and she inherited her mother's throne shortly after Megatron's abdication and her mother's death. Lunaclover, Moonheart, Trickdiamond, and Flowspade are her personal guard and, together with Lyzack, her best friends.

She is pledged to Deathsaurus (@dragcnspark). (He is not a VoS Deathsaurus, but this is RP-land and we have fun here.)

She is secretly EmeraldWings, who is one of the primary administrators of the Big Conversation. Please note that in her universe you are not allowed to dox anyone on the Big Conversation, including yourself, so she will not admit it.

Rules: I'm not very fond of lots of rules, so the usual - no godmodding, and work things out with me before you attempt to have sexytimes or a fight with her. Mun does not interact with players under the age of 18.

I cut smut but can't make my RP partners do that so block "nsft" and "nsfw" if you don't want to see it.

Pertinent info: I don't tolerate TERFs, bigots of any kind, obnoxious people, and anti-shippers. (You are probably not an anti if you don't know what that means, so don't worry about it!)

I don't like people who think that if they object to the content of somebody else's writing or art, they are entitled to harass that person. Even if I personally think the content is disgusting myself, which has happened, I just hit the back button and think about kittens, and that's what you should do, too.

I do tag all my stuff with appropriate content labels when topics that people commonly find objectionable come up, even in conversations, and if you want to write with me I will generally agree to not bring up topics you don't want to write in our threads.

PS: I will not under any circumstances tag content involving fully sapient beastformers as 'bestiality', and if you ask me to do that, I will be creatively rude. I'll tag it with ship names so you can filter out ships you don't like, but I won't tag it like that.

Header art and icon are lineart from the Transformers Victory manga, coloured by my bff @sharkteethies.

#rules and stuff #pinned post

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meetyoualltheway · 11 months

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About Rosanna

Rosanna of Fractyl is a Cybertronian pop idol singer. She exists in the Kiss Players and TFA canons. She is also seen at a protest in the IDW 2005 comics with her purple sister, Flip Sides.

Flip Sides and Rosanna are cassetticons and they are the same model as Rewind and Eject, but with feminising modifications, such as a metal "skirt". Although all of Rosanna's toys have been sold with weapons, she doesn't seem to use them in canon. There is an implication in some canon materials that Rosanna (who is an Autobot) and Filp Sides (who is a Decepticon) may be the same person, but I don't play them that way.

I can play her from KP or TFA equally well. I know KP very well. I can also play the one in my Voice of Stanix fics. I do not mind playing KP verse as long as people aren't gross about it.

I don't have a lot of rules--they're all pretty obvious things, except one.

No god-modding or killing/maiming or NSFW happens to my characters without my explicit consent in direct messages.

Do not rush into relationships with my characters. It is OK to assume friendships that exist in canon but nothing further.

Don't assume that you know stuff about Rosanna that your character wouldn't canonically be in a position to know.

I do not care if male characters flirt with Rosanna, because dudes flirt with lesbians all the time. But as a player you should know that my Rosanna is a lesbian and your male characters have no chance of getting anywhere with her. She will not go out with them except as friends and she will never pop her panels for them. She is gay gay gay for girls girls girls.

No minors and especially no minors in my NSFW.

Rosanna canonically has exotic pets and in TFA she had a lot of them. I will joke about Carole Baskin coming after her because Carole Baskin is a joke, but I will block animal rights propaganda. My feelings about exotic pets are a) not exactly the same as Rosanna's b) not something I'm willing to fight about in an RP blog.

#pinned post #rules #headcanons

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papyrus126 · 1 year

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Video Game Idea: Transformers

NOT for players 16 and under. (Really don’t care, but must be address for legal reasons)

Mix between Skyrim and Fallout 4

Must refuel every now and again! Based on frame type chosen, player may have to refuel more often! Refueling stations are placed in certain locations throughout cities. During war, both factions have own mess hall along with fueling stations around in bases. If neutral, scanner on map will give locations of mining veins and mecha selling energon. Due to the times, it will not count against karma unless people are offlined/threatened.

Choose Your People: Whichever you choose, your people will respond better to you

Iacon

Kaon

Harmonex

Nova Cronum

Tyrest

Helex

Crystal City

Stanix

Polyhex

Praxus

Protihex

Uraya

Tarn

Valvolux

Vos

Velocitron

Choose Your Frame Type: Each one has their strengths and weaknesses- including fuel levels

Grounder

Flight frame

Mini-con

Beast-former

Nautical

Insecticon

Predacon

Dinobot

Story Begins:

First day online:

No sound besides player’s character breathing. Turning around, player watches as the Well of Allsparks slowly dims to nothing. A voice calls out from behind; player turns to see random mech. Backing away slowly, they only advance faster. In response, player turns and run (Player runs a short distance, dodging through random obstacles in basic tutorial of movement). The random mech catches up, pinning player down. Player then flipped over and knocked into attempted unconsciousness. Short cut scenes play along the way (first: initial capture, second: loading player into transport of sorts, third: falling out of transport after shot down, final: silhouette of random mech (based on chosen people) kneeling over player, then reaches towards them. Screen finally goes dark) (save point)

Player wakes in hospital berth. Player handed basic medical supplies and energon to start. May explore hospital and collect more supplies by stealing if going the bad route. (Cut scene having reached the front door) Player ushered out the door. (Save point)

Player steps into crowded city. A comm is sent by boss (don’t know who yet, work in progress here) outlining player’s job based on frame type. Point on map appears to direct player to job. Once arrived, cut scene plays (player meets boss who’d commed them, who then tells the player to punch in. Once done, player character steps through the doors. (Save point)

Job done, (a week at this point) player character punches out and rushes with everyone else from the building. Player’s apt. will appear on map, but player may explore. Few menial task scattered here and there. (Cut scene) At apt., the place is trashed, a note left on table, signed by The Council along with a summons. Character doesn’t understand, becomes frightened, throws it away. Character grabs a cube of energon, slugs it back, then heads to berth. (Save point)

Different menial tasks for explorative players from apt. Return to work. (Cut scene) Stepping up to the door, it flies open, character jumps out of the way. Random npc struggles against cops for thievery crime they didn’t commit, character watches npc beaten into submission before shoving through the crowd now in the doorway during event. Player may now explore workplace. Entering a back employees only room, another npc has the stolen object and laughing about it with two others, tossing it around (will be player’s first weapon based on frame type). Character steps out from hiding, calls out npcs. Npcs gets mad, chases after player. Player must escape aggressors. Successfully escaping, player runs into the boss. Npcs skid to a stop a distance behind with stolen weapon in plain sight. Boss directs authorities alongside them to arrest the three. In turn, the weapon is now the player’s possession as a reward. Player has now unlocked weapon’s training. Does not begin until next day. Work end, return to apt. Deal with whatever, then head to berth. (Save point)

Weapons training tutorial. Point on map leads to training building. Take time to get used to weapon, but don’t be late for work. Boss will make bullslag reason to have you shifted around to the most dangerous task (Will offline, must retry day) Report as usual. Return to apt after work. (Save point)

#transformers #maccadam #got more but can’t fit it #may change stuff #do not steal #video game idea

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spymeister · 2 years

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▲: my muse’s happiest memory

First time he ever got to sing in front of people.

It'd been a shitty job at a shitty dive bar, but it'd been the first step out of the gutters for him. He'd wrapped slim claws around the amplifier, and crooned his voice into the microphone. For a moment, there'd been absolute silence in the normally rowdy establishment as they'd fixated on the entertainer.

He'd felt their stares and the intensity of their interest as a physical thing, eliciting a shiver of delight down his spinestrut.

After that, performing had been a high that he came back to again and again. It's a drug he'll never get enough of, but nothing can ever, ever compete with that one night.

It'd been the most intoxicating high he'd ever experienced.

For that one moment, he hadn't been Jazz of Polyhex-ne-Stanix. He hadn't been the undocumented creation of a disregarded lower caste and disposable status. He had stepped foot on that stage, and had been transported to a place he'd never seen before. He had taken the opportunity and held something absolutely beautiful in his grasp for just half a breath.

And it's something he still chases, every time a tune slips past his lips.

#memories:: just one step

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thenamesblurrito · 3 years

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Cybertronix and accents

So, Cybertronix does have different dialects, most notably those of the colonies, the “founder’s tongue” of the old city-states where insular cultures have created their own version of the planet wide language, and the half code/half dialect junker talk, incredibly mutable and diverse, sometimes practically a foreign language to a junker from just the other side of the same city. Different dialects are still all Cybertronix, and mostly mutually intelligible, but they contribute a lot to perception and personality.

This means, of course, I’m gonna assign human accents to represent the vibes of a character’s speech.

(by the way, if you’re worried that I’m just taking a grab bag of random foreign accents and throwing them around, I’m not. Most of these accents I’ve heard from real people before, usually other uni students or roommates. I’m not just relying on stereotypical media portrayals and bad voice acting, I’m drawing on personal experience and associations with fond memories of my international friends.)

-40′s/50′s American Television Actors Accent: bog-standard “proper” Cybertronix, which of course is mostly just Iacon, Praxus, Polyhex, and Altihex. Upper class society in Rodion also sound like this.

people who sound like this: Orion Pax, Minimus Ambus, Arcee, Blackarachnia and Deadlock but very rough around the edges. Shockwave affects an accent like this to be more acceptable to his audience in the Senate. The Grand Architect technically has this accent, but the most striking thing about his voice is how impassive and intimidating he sounds, rather than his pronunciation.

-Posh Snobbish British Schoolboys Accent: much of Vos, where the higher you go, the more upper class you are, and thus the more posh and snobbish you are.

people who sound like this: Starscream, but he affects a heavier accent than he had as a middle class child. Skywarp and Thundercracker have mostly dropped theirs. Brainstorm, Perceptor. Slipstream has a very posh accent.

-German, But Like Specifically A Bavarian Accent: Tesarus, Helex, and parts of rural Tyrest. A strong, “noble” accent left over from a huge united empire prior to a united Cybertron, still considered a mark of a member of the backbone of society.

people who sound like this: Predaking, Tarantulas, Fort Max, Tailgate, Dion.

-German, But Like Specifically A Westphalian Accent: Tesarus mostly, with some communities in Stanix and groundside Vos. Considered rougher than the more “cultured” version above.

people who sound like this: Blitzwing, Makeshift, Jhiaxus, Shockwave when he gets too emotional or tired and forgets to stay upper class. Forestock also tries to drop this accent, but a lil less successfully.

(I’m also imagining some mix of Standard American German and Pennsylvania Dutch accents to be an in-between blend of standard Cybertronix and thicker Tesaran-style dialects.)

-Swiss French Because I’ll Be Damned Before I Willingly Give Anything Of France To Any Character Of Mine, Even An Accent: Tyrest and some of Praxus, also Crystal City. Lovely and charming, supposedly a mark of someone graceful and benign.

people who sound like this: Councilmember Tyrest, Skyfire, Terminus although he’s lost much of his accent. Prowl, Bluestreak, Smokescreen in his natural voice but he often obfuscates his accent.

-That Brooklyn Or Jersey Accent Where You Pronounce It Like Joizee: lower class Iacon, Polyhex, and most of Rodion. Sometimes called the junker’s accent (which is terribly inaccurate), folks with this accent aren’t going to be lauded by the upper class anytime soon. Full of slang and euphemisms.

people who sound like this: Rumble and Frenzy, Ravage, Powerglide, Swindle. Nightracer, Bludgeon, Wheelie, and Red Alert all have a specific version of this that marks them as junkers. Springer used to, but he’s started copying Prowl’s accent now. Hot Rod to a small degree.

-An Absolute Ace Aussie Accent: Carcer! Which, much like Australia, started as a penal colony that then turned into a regular colony and then a nation proper. It’s younger than the other colonies, and far from Cybertron, so they’re considered kind of backward and stupid, which means anyone with their accent is often automatically dismissed.

people who sound like this: listen I need you to imagine Ariel speaking like Steve Irwin but about to punch a croc instead of wrestle it. Also Obsidian.

-Brazilian, But Like Specifically Recife Accent: Tyger Pax, thickest in the city itself. Very animated and vibrant, super expressive, sometimes criticized for being loud, but it’s also very fun to listen to.

people who sound like this: Jazz, Alpha Trion but he sounds like he’s faking it, First Aid. Rosanna has been touring Cybertron as a pop star for long enough that she needs to deliberately practice her accent to keep it.

-Brazilian, But Like Specifically Southern Accent: Velocitron! Not only is the accent notable, but the speed at which they speak is very distinctive. They gotta say Everything Right Now Immediately.

people who sound like this: Moonracer, Swerve, Blurr (but he’s got a stutter too), Override, Knock Out.

-Portuguese, As In The Country, Which Is Different Than A Brazilian Accent: Eukaris! They speak very casually, unhurried, like a nice warm evening around the dinner table with family.

people who sound like this: Lickety-Split. I haven’t decided who else is from Eukaris yet.

-Sort Of Yiddish, Sort Of Polish, Sort Of Greek, I’m Thinking Specifically Of One Tricultural Friend’s Accent: Much of Tarn, a few parts of Kaon, and bits of Helex. Not wildly different from standard Cybertronix, but strong and heated and very opinionated, a good accent to be angry in.

people who sound like this: Cogman, Wheeljack, Lugnut, Megatron though he’s lost some of it.

-Russian, Not Evil Movie Villain Russian, Just A Real Russian Accent: Kaon and a good half of Tarn. They are very precise with what they mean, but not so much with the grammar and order of their words, which means their precision communication is often lost on outsiders.

people who sound like this: Strika, Damus, Wasp.

-Very Sweet, Folksy Ukrainian Accent: Devisiun! On a colony where everyone is born with siblings, most folks also adopt a pattern of speaking with or over people, especially with family and people they know best. A Cybertronian will consider a Devisian rude for talking in the middle of their sentence, but that’s a normal conversation for a Devisian! They’d consider it rude if the Cybertronian didn’t start responding to them in the middle of their sentence.

people who sound like this: Jetfire and Jetstorm, complete with finishing each other’s sentences.

-Korean Accent, Which Is Actually Closest To The Original Primal Vernacular: Caminus! They held on very tightly to their roots as a colony founded directly by one of the first Primes, so they’ve preserved a version of the first language that, while mutated by usage over the megavorns, is still closely connected to the tongue of the ancients.

people who sound like this: Windblade, Chromia, Firestar, Flareup, Nautica, some people swear Maccadam has a hint of this accent.

-Deep Southern Redneck Bumpkin Drawl From Down On The Range Accent: the moons! Luna 1 and 2 have very similar dialects, and very thick country drawls.

people who sound like this: Ironhide, Cosmos, Bulkhead, Kup uses this one because he picked it up on an early visit to Luna 1 and liked it so he keeps it.

#cybertron #caminus #velocitron #transformers #cybertronian culture #devisiun #eukaris #carcer #cybertronix #hehe languages #there is NO WAY i am tagging all these people

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cleverthylacine · 3 months

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Chapters: 30/31 Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers: Victory, Transformers: Unite Warriors Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Megatron/Minimus Ambus (Transformers), Deathsaurus/Esmeral (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet, Lyzack/Nickel (Transformers), Deathsaurus/Tarn (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock & Ravage, Leozack/Vos Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Mood Whiplash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Mutiny, Betrayal, Rodimus is the True Prime (Fite Me), Primax 1020.27 Iota, Sexual Manipulation, idiots to lovers, Mech Preg (Transformers), Unhealthy Polyamory, Transformer Sparklings, Tarn's Gross Orientalist Fetish, Energon Siphoning (Transformers), Ridiculous Robot Pig Latin, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Corpse Desecration, Attempted Cannibalism, Mind Control, Body Horror, Parasitic Plants, cloning, Unethical Sapient Experimentation, War Crimes, Implied/Referenced Reproductive Abuse, Attempted Sparkling Theft, Camp Grindcore Series: Part 4 of The Voice of Stanix (Primax 1020.27 Iota) Part 11 of All Hail Ravage

Summary: Ravage has left the Lost Light--leaving Megatron without his amica. He's grown closer to Minimus Ambus, but the former Ultra Magnus is losing his sense of moral certainty. Ratchet and Drift are reunited, but Drift is finished with the Autobots and the Lost Light. And just as Deathsaurus and Esmeral are finally about to be married, Tarn shows up to make Deathsaurus an offer he dare not refuse.

Content Advisory: The site warning "Rape/Non-con" was applied because of a nonconsensual spark-merge interface scene in Chapter 24. There is a synopsis of Chapter 24 in the comments of Chapter 25 for those who elect not to read it.

Chapter Summary & Content Advisory: The actual next-to-last chapter. All hell has broken loose on the Warworlds and the Necroworld. Brainstorm has a bad idea that just might work. Megatron and Nautica have a long talk about grooming and gaslighting, even though he’s not willing to acknowledge that those are the things that happened. Esmeral fights a battle in cyberspace.

Soundtrack on YouTube

#my fic #all hail ravage #voice of stanix #maccadam #all hell breaks loose #megatron #nautica #minimus ambus #minimegs #brainstorm #rodimus #esmeral #tarn #soundwave #unexpected soundwave with the steel chair

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soundwavereporting · 4 years

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soundwave week day 5: “Reconnection”

There’s a ghost living in the Acid Wastes. Cosmos and Prowl go to investigate.

Some prowlcoswave angst for the soul! Watch for grief/mourning, temporary character death. An au of the prowlcoswave au. ao3 link in source!

His day goes like this:

wake up (alone)

grab energon

find Prowl, persuade him to drink energon

slog through a shift mindlessly mapping New Cybertron

repeat steps 2-3, except this time it’s Prowl persuading him to eat

consider going through their Soundwave’s stuff—the things the cassettes won’t touch. Decide to put it off for another day.

fall asleep (not alone)

repeat

It’s not a bad routine. Prowl’s…he’s not happy, but he’s not the pile of misery he had been for those long, long months when Cosmos was stuck in the medcenter, and he’s nothing like the inconsolable mess they both were after the funeral.

Soundwave’s absence cut through them, leaving the edges so torn and ragged, it would be impossible to repair them. And his absence wasn’t supposed to be repaired—according to the little Camien therapist Rodimus had hired to meet with anyone who’d lost someone during Unicron’s attack (and, hadn’t everyone? Privately, Cosmos felt awful for the mech.) the grief was meant to be felt. Meant to be experienced. According to her, in time, it would fade to an ache.

Now, it was burning, crackling thing. He finds himself halfway through his shift, suspended in orbit, wondering what Soundwave would think of the new canyons formed at the edge of Uraya before realizing it doesn’t matter. Soundwave’s gone. Dead. So dead there hadn’t even been a body left to smelt. Jetfire had found some piece of his armor that everyone suspected was a part of his insignia. That had gone in the smelter, because their ritus hadn’t been completed.

It helps, knowing Prowl’s dealing with it about as well as Cosmos. He’s rounded up what remains of the cassettes to scout the landscape while Cosmos maps from above, and he spends the rest of his time breaking up fights in the Autobot-Decepticon district of New Iacon.

So it’s a little surprising when Cosmos comes home one day to find Prowl waiting for him.

“You up for a mission?” Prowl asks, and Cosmos just nods dumbly.

He takes a minute to down a cube of energon, and then they head out.

Prowl sends him the notes as they make the journey from Iacon to Stanix. Settlers in Fort Syck and Yuss have been reporting a ghost of all things, lingering at the edges of the Acid Wastes. It’s corporeal until it’s not, and it sings so loud it makes a mech’s processor hurt to stand too close. Of course, no one’s ever captured a clear recording—of either the ‘ghost’ or its singing.

Other than that, they don’t talk.

Which is fine—there isn’t anything to talk about. Except there is—he knows Prowl will listen; not as well as Soundwave used to, but he won’t flat out ignore him.

He doesn’t really want to talk, though.

So they don’t.

They arrive in Yuss late enough to warrant renting out a hotel room for a night. It’s not accommodating enough to have adjustable recharge slabs, so Prowl takes the bed, and Cosmos sleeps on the floor.

In the middle of the night, Cosmos wakes to find Prowl sleeping on top of him. He watches Prowl for a moment, watching the way his jaw clenches in response to some dream., before settling back into recharge.

In the morning, they’re back on the road (Prowl is, anyway. Cosmos is flying.), heading for the border of Yuss and the Wastes.

Prowl stops a group of mechs to ask about the ghost (have they seen him? No. Have they heard of him? Absolutely.), so Cosmos arrives first.

These Acid Wastes are different from the ones on Cybertron—their Cybertron, now as dead as Soundwave—with cliffs and mechaflora aplenty. There’s more than enough places for a ‘ghost’—hoax or otherwise—to hide.

“Um, Prowl,” Cosmos says, when Prowl finally arrives. “Why’re we here? Investigating urban legends isn’t exactly a part of your job description.”

“Honestly?”

Cosmos nods.

“I…don’t know.” Prowl looks away. “I wanted a break. From—” He makes a vague motion with one hand, gesturing in the direction of Iacon. “That.”

“You can just say ‘vacation’.” It’s the closest thing to a joke Cosmos has said in months.

Prowl’s lips twitch.

“Vacation. Working vacation.”

“Sure, Prowl.” Cosmos pats the other Autobot’s shoulder. “Sure.”

It quickly becomes clear that neither of them really know how to go about ‘investigating’ something like this—Cosmos picks up abbarent movement in his peripheral vision once or twice, which he makes note of. But other than that, the Acid Wastes are just…the Acid Wastes.

It’s quiet, though, and Cosmos finds himself wondering if that’s what both of them need. He devotes the second half of the day—which mostly consists of him sitting in the shade, watching Prowl take poring over datapads and articles—planning an actual vacation. Definitely not to Earth. But he’s heard good things about some non-Galactic Council worlds that he thinks Prowl would probably enjoy.

The sun is setting when he hears it.

And the worst thing is—he recognizes it. And it’s clear Prowl does, too, because he freezes, sensory panels hiking straight up as he tries to determine the source of the sound.

The music.

They recognize it because they were the ones who found it. They—and Jazz, who kept a copy for himself, but he’s living in Kaon, so far away it’s not even worth wondering whether or not they’re somehow hearing his music—found it, and gave it to Soundwave as—

Not for the first time that day, Cosmos catches a flicker in the corner of his optic.

This time, he whips around fast enough and sees him. Him.

It’s not Soundwave—not completely. This mech is translucent, shimmering like an optical illusion, as though he’ll fade away when the light hits him. But Cosmos would recognize him anywhere: the outline of his shoulders, the way his head tilts when he’s looking at them.

“It’s you.” Prowl’s voice is quiet. Reverent. “You survived.”

Cosmos can’t help himself. Prowl’s frozen in place, so Cosmos takes a step forward, hand outstretched.

His hand passes through Soundwave. Cosmos draws back, but what else did he expect? If Soundwave were fully corporeal, he would’ve said something. Found them.

Soundwave looks disappointed, so Cosmos reaches forward again.

This time, he feels something—were he not built to receive the weakest of signals in deep space, he would not have felt it. It’s the faintest crackle against his his plating. The ghost of a touch.

It’s enough.

“How?��

His voice cracks halfway through the word. Soundwave shrugs and extends a hand and brushes it against the side of Cosmos’ helm.

In unison, they turn to Prowl. Who’s on the phone.

Cosmos nearly laughs, though it likely would’ve come out as a sob instead. Prowl is yelling—at Perceptor most likely, or maybe Brainstorm—demanding they drop whatever they’re doing and get down to the Acid Wastes, but he freezes when Soundwave approaches.

As he had with Cosmos, Soundwave stretches out his hand and tries to touch the side of Prowl’s helm. Cosmos doesn’t think Prowl’s sensors aren’t sensitive enough to pick up the touch, but he sinks into the touch nonetheless.

Something clicks back into place.

The torn, ragged edges of Soundwave’s absence are sliced away and something new slots into place. It’s not what it used to be—Cosmos isn’t sure if things could ever go back to the way things were all those years ago, when the station still orbited Jupiter.

Cosmos takes in Prowl, who’s staring at Soundwave, and Soundwave, who’s staring at both of them and decides that maybe not what it used to be isn’t the worst thing in the world.

#transformers #idw #maccadam #soundwave #cosmos #prowl #prowlcoswave #mine;

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troutpopulation · 5 years

Text

Transformers: Antebellum ch.1

Cybertron, millions of years ago. While the working class carries the gilded society on their backs, the Senate perches at the top reaping the rewards. The system is rigid, and unchanging. The way things are now are they thing always have been and always will be. That is, until a miner from Tarn begins to plant seeds of autonomy. Revolution and revelation is growing like a weed, and soon the senate crumbles beneath a forest of ideas.

•••••

A discarded can had toppled from the stoop it had been abandoned on, and the clank and grind of it rolling down the street startled Gasket. He watched the mangled logo disappear and reappear along the circumference of it. The crumpled container seemed to drag itself down the pavement as if to flee from the alley’s gaping maw. It bumped into a fissure in the sidewalk and rolled back a bit, closer to where it had started. A bump in the road prevented escape. Just like anything else that tried to get out of the Dead End.

Gasket leaned against the wall of a building, overlooking the bright city lights that shot into the sky. Nighttime in the slums of Polyhex was dangerous, but it did at least have one hell of a view. Skyscrapers reached for the stars with unyielding hands, and the break in their canopies let the light-polluted sky peek through, their matte veins of coal murky against the lively cerulean of Cybertron’s nightlife.

The feeling of dirt against his body had long ago ceased to bother Gasket, and he sighed, pressing the back of his black horned helm against the grimy alley wall as he gazed down at the event below. When he used to watch, he used to watch longingly. How he used to wish he could go down into that valley and mingle amongst the upper class. But even in the cover of night his pasty yellow form was tarnished and dirty, and his alternate mode deemed him second class. He long since abandoned that dream, but not the affinity for spectating the lightshow in place of it. At least he could have that. And besides, in the day, there wasn’t much to see anyways. Only at night was the stage anything more than just a stage.

From the distance behind him, heavy stomps echoed rhythmically from the belly of the alleyways. Gasket shifted, turning his head to the source and instinctively pressing himself into the wall, shrinking back, out of the path of the towering officer that patrolled alone past him. Though his armor was shrouded in the night, it was clear who it was from the robust crimson frame and blue two-pronged helm. He watched silently as Orion Pax prowled past him, out of the alley, and down the sidewalk. His handgun glinted in the dim glow of the street lights.

Orion Pax made his way back to the police station, another patrol successfully executed. He hadn’t needed to arrest anyone, which struck him as a relief. The Dead End, unfortunately, was home to quite a few surly mechs who would be prone to disturbing the peace, especially while the city’s attention was directed to the Senate’s latest celebration. Trouble always seemed to be more prevalent while eyes were turned away.

Tonight, though, all he had to do was make his rounds and crises were averted. His presence alone and a scrutinizing glare had caused a sleazy looking thug to cower in fear, and scurry away from the tipsy bot he appeared to have been fixing to pounce on. That had been tonight’s worst incidents. Despite that, he kept his gaze flickering down the corridors between buildings, scanning as one would the isles of an upgrade shop. Nothing but the occasional huddle of homeless mechs. They accumulated at the mouth of the alleys the way dirt and grime accumulated in the seams of their armor. Orion’s shadow in the white streetlight prowled behind him. The homeless bots flinched as it lapped over their faces like a predacon's tongue.

They watched him pass like he was the reaper.

Automatic doors darted with a hiss from Orion Pax’s path and he stepped into the stuffy orange lobby of the police station. A fellow cop looked up from the computer at the front desk. He nodded in greeting, the large fins on either side of his head prodding the air.

“Not at the gala?” Sunstreaker sneered, still typing. Of course he wasn’t. Mechs from their precinct were never invited.

“Evidently.” Orion made a bee line for his cubicle. He was sure there were reports waiting to be filled.

“I’d like to go. But,” Sunstreaker lamented, more to himself than Orion. “Senate’s only letting Iacon police do security shifts. It’s stupid. Gala’s not even hosted in Iacon. They’re literally celebrating the knew Polyhexian senator, but nobody from Polyhex can go.”

“They think Polyhexian police are too ‘uncouth’,” Arcee rolled her eyes, skulking out from the corridor past Orion. “Hey Pax.”

“Hello, Arcee.” He returned the greeting and left the two to carp about being blacklisted from the senate’s lavish events.

“I mean, come on! Crystal city? That’s right next to Polyhex! That’s right next to us!” “It’s not about convenience, Sunny, they think we’re common .”

“Maybe you, but me? That’s stupid, I’m incredibly refined.”

“Obviously.”

Orion was growing restless. He considered for a moment going back out for another patrol, but shook the thought away. They all had better things to be worried about. But, Arcee was right; they were banned from attending specifically because they were from Polyhex. The senate’s supposed reasoning? It’d be bad for conversation. Polyhex, Kaon, Stanix, they were dirty cities, full of dirty bots. Any honest answer about the nature of their work would make guests, and the Crystal City elite guard, uncomfortable. Worse yet, none of them looked any good in blue and gold. Best they just keep to their patrols and let the Iaconians delegate in place of them.

Sunstreaker also had a point; it was more than a little disappointing to be told you simply lacked class for something. Orion supposed that was honestly the issue he had with the blacklist. He wasn’t ever interested in galas, it was the principle, it was being told short and plainly: You are not good enough for this. You will never be good enough for this.That’s what left him with a bitter taste.

He glanced up at the live feed and hollowly watched shots of smiling ambassadors shaking hands and drinking, and the tall, uniform formation of Crystal City’s elite guard standing proudly amongst Iacon’s best force captains. The guardsmen were painted in uniform, white with gold and blue trim, all sporting visors. Gold on the jets, blue on the cars. Orion had considered at one point in getting a visor. He tried one on, but felt that he looked rather stupid in it. Nothing at all like the distinguished mechs that saluted the senators as their newest member cut the ribbon around the new bridge: his first act as senator, and therefore initiating him into the ranks. He waved to the flashing cameras, and the recording panned to the rest of the soiree. Orion recognized a force captain conversing beside a guardsman as someone he graduated with from the academy. He felt a twist in his mechanisms as they smiled and spoke.

Perhaps a walk wouldn’t hurt.

Arcee and Sunstreaker gave him half attentive goodbyes as he left, and once again found himself taking to trekking the streets. Although he didn’t have an exact plan or destination, his mechanisms surely seemed to. With his head light years away, his body carried him deliberately to the archives. He pushed the heavy doors in and peeked inside. As usual, at this hour it was empty of patrons.

“Alpha Trion?” He called upon arrival. “Are you in?”

“Aye, lad.” A familiar voice echoed from somewhere far in the forest of datapad filled shelves. Orion squeezed past the doors, and they thundered shut as he strolled inside.

“It’s empty tonight.” He noted, looking around at the vast trove of rentable data.

“Ah, you know where everybody is.” The sage had appeared from the depths of the library, and gave Orion an amicable pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Pax. You look well.”

“You too.” He replied as he followed the datakeeper down the isles. “I'm surprised you weren't invited to go.”

“Ha! I was. But you know I've no interest in those. Really nothing but an excuse for the higher ups to get drunk.” The burgundy mech seemed to be compelled by whatever whimsical force tugged him along through his actions, as without warning he waltzed towards a random shelf, inspecting it with optics that twinkled with amusement. He chuckled. “They're celebrating fixing the bridge. Can you believe that? Celebrating using the people’s shanix for something important by blowing it out on something less so.”

“I don’t understand how they could do that.” Orion muttered, running his servo over the racks of information, gazing upwards at the endless bounty of it all. “I always believed they acted in our best interest. That’s what my superiors always told us, at least.”

Alpha Trion hummed in response, and handed Orion a datapad.

“For shame.” The librarian chided playfully,mirth lifting his mustache. “Here lad, this one’s got your name on it.”

Orion took the datapad, turning it over curiously in his servos. He’d spent the majority of his free time indulging in the vast expanse of the library, but not once had he seen this work before.

“‘On Our Six Foundations’... Is this new?” Orion’s digits grazed the cover slide. The title stood out in a cold, proud font.

“Aye,” Alpha Trion nodded, watching expectantly as Orion tentatively studied the book, shy and bold so very curious, a young animal finding a new scent. “Brand new. Provocative stuff. I suggest you give it a read, though. I feel it’ll answer a lot of questions you’ve had on your mind.”

“Thank you, Trion.” Orion looked hopeful, delighted even. He gingerly clutching the datapad with a firm grip as though the ornery contents of it would writhe angrily from his fingers.

“Think not of it. Instead,” Alpha Trion smiled, his house’s white facial insignia lifting as he did. He give the fascinated young bot a pat on the back as he ushered him outside. “Think about what you read. Goodnight, Orion, get home safely.”

“I will. Goodnight- wait, Alpha Trion, are you giving this to me?” Orion stopped in his tracks, holding up the datapad and looking so penitent he may as well have stolen it. It was uncustomary to take the physical copy of the datapad from the library. One simply downloaded the data, and read through it during the duration it was rented before time was up. When it was, the data either got wiped or you renewed it.

“It’s yours if you want it lad. The mech that came buy to deliver that brought a whole stack of them.” Alpha Trion noted, looking fondly at the tablet in the younger bot’s servos. “I think he wants people to have them.” Orion was nearly giddy as he thanked the librarian again; he couldn’t help but wonder ardently what could be so inflaming, so controversial in this one work of writing. He rushed home, eager to devour the contents.

He had forgotten all about the gala downtown.

That was no matter. Quite a while ago, it had forgotten about him too.

“Do we really need so many guards?” One mech whispered, more to himself than the diminutive minibot he trailed behind. Neon lights danced off of his polished armor and fresh, gleaming white paint job that was accented by regal golds and sapphire. His extravagant build, though dripping in high status, was betrayed by slumped shoulders and droopy optics that lingered over the murmuring line of elite guardsmen and Iaconian police. Their conversations ceased and they saluted as he passed. His name was Shockwave, and this was his party.

“They are no cause for concern, Senator. Merely here as formality. If you’d like, we could request them relocated.” The minicon that escorted him piped up reassuringly.

“No, thank you. They’re fine.” Shockwave sighed, glancing once more over his shoulder at the mechs in their line. When he again faced forward, Shockwave was greeted with the appraising smiles of the other senators. They watched him expectantly, as he strode towards them, one gesturing Shockwave to the empty seat reserved in his honor. The minicon, all waxed and polished in uniform blue and gold, bowed deeply as they pulled the chair and presented it to the senator to sit down in. Too late was Shockwave in opening his mouth to thank the tiny bot for escorting him, as he'd already been dismissed and was now ushering another distinguished mech to his table.

“Senator Shockwave!” The mech beside him clasped his gilded servos together, the silver sweeps of his mouth curled smoothly in a grin. “Welcome to the table, are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Why, yes, I am, thank you,” Shockwave returned a kind smile, his hands folded politely in front of him. “I’m surprised so many people showed up for… A bridge reopening.”

“But of course they did,” Senator Pylon cooed. He swirled his drink, taking a thoughtful sip of the glowing liquid. “It is, as well, your coronation.”

“Right…” The young politician averted his gaze, the accented armor atop his shoulders drooped ever so slightly. He seemed to catch himself, forcing his chest to puff out. Poor posture, he was told repeatedly, was unbecoming of an elite.

“I sense a ‘but’.” Pylon raised his eyebrows. He sat back in his seat, his narrow chin tilting downward. From this angle, one could see clearly the pink stripes that streaked upwards atop his green helm in lavish designs. One could also feel expectant yellow optics peering into their spark from beneath the brow of it. Shockwave’s own furrowed under the scrutiny.

“I just, well… I just feel as though I could have done more. As my first action taken as Senator, I mean.” Shockwave explained, stifling a dejected sigh. His words seemed to go into one of Pylon’s audials and promptly out the other. “It is wonderful to see someone so young and ready to contribute, is it not?” Pylon raised his glass, grinning at the others seated at the table. There was a gentle rumble of agreement as the senators all voiced praise at once. He then elected to opening a tiny hatch on the table, and a small beacon lit up. Almost at once, a servant minicon appeared beside the senator.

“Yes sir, how may I be of service?” They said with a curtsy, voice soaked almost sickeningly in reverence.

“A round of your finest, for the table.” Pylon ordered, the sweep of his servo producing a grand gesture to the seated senate. Like birds of paradise, the figureheads of glorious city states all perched in their finery. Their presence alone caused the servant to bend their brow, deep in deference.

“Yes sir, right away sir.” The bot again curtsied, and the beacon flickered off as they scampered away to the bar. Pylon turned back to Shockwave.

“Don’t worry, you will have plenty of chances to make contributions.” He sipped his drink. “Your ambition will take you far. But tonight? Tonight we drink.”

Shockwave could only offer a halfhearted nod. The other senators dismissed his concerns with laughter, sampling fine concoction of solidified energon placed in intricate designs on platters and insisting he indulged. He did, the shame of weighing down the lively mood of the soiree overpowering the embarrassment of how small his feat was. All he did was call for a bridge to be fixed. He hadn’t even noticed it was broken, Senator Sherma did. He hadn’t even built it, Senator Decimus had. He didn’t even instruct the construction team in their repair, Senator Momus did. All Shockwave had done was issue the order. It simply did not feel like his accomplishment.

He stared down at the table, watching neon lights dance along the topography of the polished brass. When the senator shifted, his preened features were distorted by the designs etched in the gilded mirror surface. His frown looked deeper reflected in gold.

His rippled reflection was obscured by a glass of radiating violet liquid that was slid in front of him. He murmured a thanks to the servant, who only bowed deeply in response before turning and briskly making their way to the next table. Senator Pylon stood up and pressed a button. A loud chime sounded among the gala, the music softened, conversations hushed, the bots perched in the rafters with the spotlight alt modes focused their beams on the senator. He absorbed the light and radiated back glory. Glossy verdant armor shone, the rose stripes and swirls among it gleaming near white. He was the star in the dark of the galaxy, the luxurious image of cosmic brilliance. Seated beside him, Shockwave squinted against how garishly Pylon’s frame caught the light. Stars were much better appreciated from afar.

“Thank you all for attending! I hope you all have enjoyed our humble hospitality.” He paused and smiled, the uproar of laughter thundering on queue. “As this city’s representative, I am beyond honored that, in every sense of the phrase, a bridge has been mended between our glorious Crystal City…”

Senator Pylon gestured down at Shockwave, and from above, two of the many spotlights trained on Pylon shifted their focus to the newest member of the oligarchy. Shockwave blinked in the blinding light, rising slowly to the gala’s roaring applause as if pulled by string.

“And Polyhex.” The mech beamed in pride, as if sparing a slice of his distinguished radiance for him to borrow and wear. He still had plenty to spare; brilliance exuded from him like an endless stream of liquid gold.

Pylon’s approving smile, the cheer of the attendees, and the high grade in his systems all at once teased their presence over Shockwave’s worries and escorted them further and further from the young politician. His qualms seduced out of mind by the attention, Shockwave found himself dazed by the glory of it all. Blinded, he smiled, waving to the press and basking in the flash of cameras.

“And so, let us toast.” Pylon continued, raising his chalice. “To the newest member of the Senate, to his grand achievement, and the many more to come. To the noble state of Polyhex. To Shockwave!”

“To Shockwave!” The gala roared in unison and downed their drinks. The soiree’s festivities had truly began. Music pounded from the small mechs with speakers on their armor that sat on the outskirts of the venue. Their bodies shook with the bass, and they signed to each other in a silent language, commenting on the elite’s taste in music. They gesticulated back in forth; their heads hurt, their speakers ached, they wanted this shift to be over.

Dazzling neon light danced from the outdoor rafters. So high up, the bots producing the lightshow were nearly invisible in the cloak of night. They undulated, revolved, and swayed to the music. Their dance was not one of celebration. As they gyrated, they flashed their biolights in code to one another, complaining of how tired they were. How they wished to go home, how the filaments in their light bulbs were sore.

How they all hated the Senators.

#MTMTE #Transformers #maccadam #fanfiction #pre war cybertron #senator Shockwave #gasket #Orion pax #elixtxt

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