#Ancient Autobot

[delicateartisantrash]

Cybertronian Language Ref Project

So, I was absolutely ASTOUNDED to discover there isn't, as far as I could find, any dedicated directory of a List Of Words for the Cybertronian languages, though there is some documentation on the written languages themselves.

Inspired by those, I started creating a document to keep track of Cybertronic languages used in the fanfictions I write, because I have an obsession for fantasy language in a story actually being written out.

Would anyone be interested in sharing this resource? I don't have terribly many words installed yet, and I mostly focus on the common tongue since that's what comes up most often in my stories so far, but I plan to flesh out all of them with time.

Imagine some of the fun miscommunications between Decepticons and Autobots who are mingling, when they have the same spoken word but they mean vastly different things >:DDD

[nezumysh]

Designation: Deadlock

average night in the dead end

[m00nb04rd5]

Windblade (Transformers: Robots in Disguise)

[soundwaves-flowercrown]

I can't have nice things.

[transingthoseformers]

Partial SG DJD and erasing the term "traitors" in their job and writing "people who violate the Atrox Scelus pact" aaand explicitly only go after those who have committed the agreed upon NoNos of the war

[pinkanonwrites]

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble. 

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat. 

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway. 

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

 How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake. 

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute. 

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate. 

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?” 

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.” 

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.” 

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure. 

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure. 

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

[revelboo]

I just wanted to say, thank you for showing me where to get the little models, I've been having so much fun putting these guys together the past two days

Sorry for the quality of the photo

Shockwaves! I found the Blokees models purely by accident, but I love how tiny and posable they are. I ended up moving my Flame Toys Megs to my plant shelf just to make more room for these guys

Gravity Pt 6

IDW Optimus x Reader

• “Why Earth?” Turning away from his work at the soft question, he finds you sitting cross legged nearby watching him with a little frown. You’d been quiet so long, he’s assumed you were resting. At his questioning look, you roll your hand in a vague little gesture. “Why did you all come here? Why Earth?”

• Servos flexing slightly, he leans his forearms against the desk. Almost looming over you, but you don’t lean away. Just arching your eyebrows at him, because it’s been bothering you for a while now. Surely there were other worlds closer to his world, to Cybertron. So why here? “In the archives, there were ancient records of worlds the Primes had visited during the expansion before the war with the Quintessons. Of worlds that had been seeded with energon or interacted with,” he says. The words bringing up more questions than answers. Quintessons? Other Primes? Only energon rings a bell, because that’s the stuff he lives on, but seeded?

• Your expression twists and he knows he should explain it all. That he owes it to you after trapping you with him, but the past has only ever wounded him. Dredging it up always brings up the choices and mistakes he’d made. The things he can’t undo, but wishes he could because something small might have led them all down a different path, a brighter one if he’d only been better, stronger.

• “You came here for the energon,” you hazard. He’s volunteered so little of his past, only letting things slip occasionally. Like that his Autobots are at war, that they’d had to flee their world and that their enemies had followed. The details, though? Like why they’d left Cybertron or even what the war was over? Those things he doesn’t seem ready to talk about so you haven’t pushed.

• “We had no way of knowing about your species. You didn’t exist when this world was seeded as a potential colony.” Reaching out, he crooks a servo not really expecting for you to lay a hand on him and let him gently pull you to your feet. “I wouldn’t have led the Decepticons here if I’d known.” And that’s his guilt to carry from now on. Another failure that might cost so much, another sin weighing on his spark, because this world might not survive their war. You might not.

• “You guys were starving, right?” You ask, hand lingering on his servo as he inclines his head. “You were trying to save who you could, I get that.” It’s not fair or right, but you do understand. From what you can gather from the things he doesn’t want to say, things were pretty desperate. He was desperate. And to be responsible for the survival of your people, what would you have done in his place? You’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be nearly as honorable as he is, that you’d do anything regardless of the cost, because you’re not good like he is.

• Spark warming at your soft words, it’s that you understand that makes him curl his servo about you. How can you not blame him for bringing his war to your home? Not hate him or at least resent him? Your little palm slides against his servo like you’re trying to comfort him, worrying over him. It’s a weight from him that you don’t despise him even though he knows that this and what will follow will be his fault. For now he just wants to feel your hand on him and pretend that this one time, his decisions won’t cost him what little he has right now in this moment. Won’t cost you, because you give him something to look forward to every day. Something beyond duty or responsibility, just enjoying your company, the sound of your voice. The soft touch of a hand reaching out to him to break his loneliness.

Previous

[dragonridernoobie]

For TFP how would each team atobots reaction when they found THE original prediction and not a clone like predaking

Who has been sleeping and been guarding a piece of Primus for many years even at their old age, they just wanted to protect the last thing they have as a family and sort of the reason of the mythology of the world serpent in Norse mythology and quetlaquotal in Mexican mythology by how huge they are

Hmmm, I like the idea, I will try my best. Like I have said before, I am sorry this took so long, I've been busy with my injured arm/hand.

TFPAutobots X OldPrediconReader

Optimus found another artifact location after doing some codes.

So, the autobot team got ready and head out. This time bringing the kids since they believe it would be safe enough.

On their way, Raphael was showing miko, Jack, and Bumblebee how they were going to the location that made the legend of the world Serpent originally came from.

They were excited, we'll miko was since shebwas hoping to see a real life serpent.

Oh, how she will know how her wish came true.

When they got close to the location, they realized how the mountain had some old ruins around it. Lost in time from the jungle around it.

While they slowly go into the ruins, they see art on the side of the ruins walls. It showed some type of creature that was fighting other giant creatures.

Raphael couldn't take pictures to figure out what they were saying since it was so badly run down from time.

When they got closer to the center of the mounting, they saw a gaint predicon laying down, covering the hole room.

It looked offline, but it was as huge as the decpticons warship. This offline predicon has been here for years since it had moss, fallen rocks, rust, and plants growing on it.

In the back of the room is the artifact. A artifact that can regenerate any cybertronian part from nothing.

The team approaches it and looks at it. More ancient text is above it, but again, it's too hard to read because of the years of erosion.

When the autobots grabbed it and started to walk away from it. It suddenly turns on, and let's go a powerful pulse that sent all the autobots back.

Once the autobots are able to get back up, the predicon body moves. Everyone stairs in disbelief as the optics of the predicon body turns on and the body starts to move.

The predicon slowly rises, debri falls while it rises. Once it's at its full height, it stairs down at the autobots.

Its mouth opens, and the most loudest and ear piercing sound comes from it. It suddenly charges a fire breath that causes the autobots to grab the artifact, kids, and run.

The fire stream follows them outside and burns the trees around the mounting temple.

The autobots wasted no time to transform and drive. In the review mirrors, they see the mountain explode and the predicon rises from it.

It roars and takes flight. It chases after them and blows fire. Burning everything. They eventually come to a cliff where there is no riffed at the bottom and no way out.

The predicon lands before them and walks toward them. They prepare for a fight.

Optimus decided to try one last option and prays for it to work.

He steps forward and with his most powerful and loud voice, he interduces himself as pptimus prime, the last of the primes.

The predicon stops and stairs. It growls and a old scratchy voice is heard from the predicon as it speaks.

"Prove it. Show me you are a prime."

So, pptimus opens his chest and shows the all spark. The predicon sees this and lowers it's head.

"Apologies for attacking you. I was only keeping the artifact safe."

Optimus asked why, and the predicon explains they were sent on earth by primus himself to portact the powerful artifical since dark times where to rise soon.

Optimus explains those dark times are the great war. The predicon understands and asks to join Optimus and his mission.

Obviously Optimus excepts. Thought, not even 3 seconds later, miko runs forward and up to the gaint predicon.

"Can you let me ride you! How much do you weigh? Have you ever fought something as big as you? How old are you? Are you a boy or a girl?"

Bullhead had to grab miko to shut her up and apologizes for mikos behavior. Though, the predicon just laughs.

"It seems humans have not changed at all in my 8000 year slumber. Hello little one. Hello to all 3 of you."

Arcee wasent on bored of (Y/N) being on the team because of them almost killing them.

Ratchet as in agreement, but optimus reminded them that they were only doing their job.

Bumblebee says they are excited since they want to ride (Y/N), which caused (Y/N) to say they aren't some creature to ride on.

This is gonna be fun.

[doctorsilverhead]

Hey there!

This is my very first req on tumblr cause I'm just too shy to ask anything. So yay!

May I request for a Bayverse Optimus with human fem reader? I don't know, just fluffy things. But honestly, I prefer Optimus being an alien dad bot to the reader. So like- fatherly fluffy things, you know?

Then again, I feel like bayverse Optimus need some more love! I'm basically begging you for our ruthless yet gentle leader!

Make it after TLK event please! (Just pretend he didn't go home to the Cybertron yet lol)

Thank you before that!

More Than Meets the Metal: When Optimus Found a Heartbeat (Bayverse Optimus Prime X Human Reader)

In the aftermath of the harrowing events of The Last Knight, the world found itself in a state of flux, grappling with the revelations of an ancient war that had spilled onto Earth's doorstep. Amidst the chaos, a beacon of hope emerged in the form of Optimus Prime, the noble leader of the Autobots, who had once again proven his unwavering commitment to protecting humanity.

For one young woman, the presence of Optimus Prime took on a deeper, more personal significance. She had been drawn into the whirlwind of events, witnessing firsthand the sacrifices made by these extraordinary beings from another world. In the aftermath, she found herself forging an unexpected bond with the towering Autobot commander, one that transcended the boundaries of species and culture.

Optimus Prime, with his ancient wisdom and compassionate spark, recognized the profound impact the events had left on the young woman's psyche. In a gesture that defied his imposing stature, he extended a gentle, fatherly presence, offering solace and guidance in a world that had been forever altered.

Optimus would regale her with tales of Cybertron's golden age, painting vivid pictures of a world teeming with life and wonder.

In turn,Y/N would share her own stories, her hopes, and her dreams, finding solace in the unwavering patience and understanding of her alien father figure. Optimus would listen intently, offering sage advice and encouragement, his words carrying the weight of eons of experience.

Optimus would take her on excursions, introducing her to the wonders of the natural world. They would venture into pristine forests, where he would explain the ecosystem, or gaze up at the stars, as he recounted the vast expanse of the cosmos and the myriad worlds that lay beyond.

He worried like a father hen, constantly reminding you of potential dangers. "Stay within the perimeter, little one," he'd say, his voice a deep baritone that echoed through the yard. You'd roll your eyes, but a smile would always touch your lips. He meant well, always looking out for you.

Sometimes, you'd read to him while he repaired himself, stories of faraway lands and fantastical creatures. He'd listen intently, his blue optics flickering with amusement at the lighter tales and dimming with concern at the darker ones.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the junkyard in a warm glow, you presented Optimus with a gift – a small, hand-painted firefly encased in resin. "For protection," you said, a little shyly. He carefully took the trinket, his optics softening. "Thank you, little one," he murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice. "It reminds me of you. Small, but with a light that shines bright even in the darkest of times." He attached the firefly to his chest plate, close to his spark chamber. It was a small gesture, but in the desolate landscape, it spoke volumes. It was a symbol of the unexpected family you had found in each other, a testament to the enduring power of hope and love, even in a world determined to extinguish it.

As the world around them continued to heal and rebuild, their bond only grew stronger, a testament to the enduring power of compassion and understanding. Optimus Prime had become more than just a protector of humanity; he had become a father figure, a mentor, and a friend, offering a sense of belonging in a universe that had suddenly become infinitely larger and more wondrous.

[quetzalpapalotl]

Just as a fun fact, in basically every G1 Transformers thing I've seen in Japanese Optimus (or Convoy) uses watashi as his first person pronoun. This is the type of usage that denotes professionalism, although his speech patterns tend to be manly enough but not too rude. It fits his image as the Autobot commander who takes his duties seriously, but is still friendly. Characters with a similar vibe also do this, like the All Might dude from bna. If you watched Bravern you can see how Smith's pronoun changes from ore to watashi when he turns into Bravern.

Now, Megatron I usually see using washi, which in anime is an old man pronoun. Except in the All Spark manga (that I need to finish translating omg), where he instead uses yo (余). A pronoun no one irl uses anymore, and in anime has the connotation of being ancient, grandiose and pompous. Really fits the unhinged and full of himself Megatron that Tsushima portrays.

[undergrounddweller89]

For anyone who's a StarOp shipper (me included)

In Transformers one what if Starscream felt like in some way he owed Orion for not letting D 16 kill him.

So say they get trapped somewhere, Optimus is injured and because obviously Starscream is supposed to be older than them in this version he takes care of Optimus.

Orion hasn't been Optimus long so doesn't quite have that I'm an authority figure feeling inside of himself yet and finds himself trying not to let this happen but...he likes.

The attentive attitude Starscream has to him and he finds himself wanting to say something dumb like.

One day you'll make someone a great spark mate.

Maybe some point he does when he's losing consciousness because he's that tired and Starscream keeps guard over him.

They take turns resting and end up having a conversation, just about the old days, Starscream has a lot to say and is happy someone is actually listening.

At first he thinks Optimus is just humouring him so throws in little trick facts to see if Optimus does notice and he does which makes the seeker settle, so he really is paying attention.

They just kinda rest against each other , both of them just missing simple touch that isn't to do with war.

Primes fingers lazily play with Starscreams head vents and he ends up shivering and giving a playful warning.

"Careful Prime, one would think you were flirting."

Orion blinks and stops

"Apologies I didn't realise that was such a sen-"

"I didn't say stop....I was giving you an out."

Optimus's hand is still as he looks down at the mech who's head is resting on his chest, who's looking up at him with brilliant eyes of fire, it's there lingering in the air an offer for something more intimate.

His spark throbs and his fingers continued to play, a silent consent to what they need from each other.

Hours later they're found, paint marks on each other, neither Trine nor autobot question it.

They're just happy to have their leaders back in one piece.

Optimus stops and looks at Starscream.

"Why didn't you attack me?"

Starscream simply smirks and replies

"Five words autobot, see if you can guess them."

With that he leaves Prime confused but knowing he won't get an answer.

Hours later he wakes up and they echo in his processor.

D, he's, not the enemy.

He looks out to the stars...and wonders...would they still have...if he had not saved him that day....

A static call comes through his personal comm and he picks up, it's highly encrypted, not in soundwaves style either, ancient seeker tech.

You to Prime....you make a wonderful spark mate to.

(Okay I'm literally standing by the dumpster at work and have to get home now, but do with this what you will)

[bad-tf-fic-ideas]

(331) In another 17 million years, the war has faded from much of living memory, replaced by more recent wars about which the present day cybertronians feel more bitter. During this era, internal factions are more or less at peace.

The forums of Cybertron now simply facilitate bickering online about real mechanism fiction (RMF) and what counts as "in character" for the ever-popular characters of bygone eras. Today's fic idea is to use unsanctioned and dangerous time travel to launch beloved historical figures (Autobot and Decepticon high commands) into this future world and expose them to the mythologised versions of themselves inhabiting the RMF forums.

Options include:

As much as it's great that their biggest problem is the reputational despair of being beloved historical figures on the internet, Optimus is also aghast to encounter some lube-nosed buggy with nostalgia goggles talking down to him about how Optimus Prime was a real prime's prime and would never have lowered himself to friendship with someone so far below him as Megatron — they didn't do that kind of thing in those days, don't you know?

Starscream proves so frustrating to the locals that he starts an incendiary argument on a web forum about the technical capabilities of now-ancient war machines and gets the whole platform temporarily shut down when his interlocutors leak confidential military technology. It takes him less than two days and, incidentally, gives him access to modern military specs.

Jazz discovers that he is 50% of the most popular all time RMF ship. He willingly falls down a labyrinthine rabbit hole of JazzProwl fanfiction. He tries very, very hard to drag Prowl (less willingly) with him.

Megatron has refused to make an account because he knows himself well enough to know that he is not going to be able to hold back from telling people they're wrong on the internet. But ever since Soundwave sent him this link, he's been reading and digesting the history buffs' fan theories. The MegOp narrative is... shockingly compelling. :/

[blueikeproductions]

So an interesting detail was revealed about the TFONE Quintessons.

It would appear, according to staff on the movie, that the ships are actually living, organic creatures.

By extension, going by their design similarities, the TFONE Quintessons are likely fully organic themselves.

Prior to the Quintus Prime origin, it was never clear where the Quintessons came from but their designs are clearly mechanical.

Japanese media would offer an explanation of sorts, in the Controverse manga.

In this story Primacron, the ancient sea monkey alien that created Unicron and later Tornedron in the G1 cartoon, would stake the claim that he created ALL mechanical life. When the Quintesson Judge calls this out, Primacron calmly responds that he created mechanical bacterial life once and surmises those creatures became the Quintesson race.

Further manga would reveal this is true, and go the extra mile by revealing Primus and Primacron were ancient beings that existed in the universe prior to the Big Bang (mirroring a similar idea in the Marvel comics).

Primacron was originally Primus’ pet, but as his intellect grew, and so did his ambitions, and once the old universe died and ours was born, Primacron would enslave his former master in what would become The Matrix of Leadership, and it would grant life to his mechanical creations, the Beast Mode Primitives, the Quintessons and Unicron.

It would appear most modern media opts go instead cast the Quintessons as organic creatures, created by Quintus Prime’s Emberstone, that pilot mechanical suits.

Cyberverse’s take on the Judges also goes an extra mile, similar to Primacron, revealing that these Quintessons are born by fusing five distinct lifeforms together, all chosen to judge a universe accordingly. This is depicted by using Starscream as the dominant component….

But unlike the wholly mechanical Judge seen before, Starscream’s Judge form has organic components, with other organic races in the Greys and Velgrox.

While there’s an argument the G1 Quints might be biomechanical, it’s never been clearly defined with Cyberverse Quint Starscream more plainly leaning in that direction.

As for the organic technology present among the TFONE Quints, that potentially has two origins.

The more famous one are the Trans-Organics, the prototype race the Quintessons developed before making the Consumer Goods and Military Hardware robots that would become The Transformers.

A cyborg like race of primitive animals, they were unable to accomplish basic tasks, and gave into their beast like savagery, destroying several Quints before they were sealed away deep within Cybertron.

In the modern era, a group of Quintessons opted to free their ancient beasts of burden, tricking Galvatron into unleashing them so that the Trans-Organics may destroy the Transformers, allowing the Quints to reclaim Cybertron. Inevitability this fails, with the Quints done in by the Dweller beast, an energy vampire worm Trans-Organic.

The Dweller is the most famous one, and spawned other counterparts seen in Cyberverse and EarthSpark, with the EarthSpark versions being a race native to Quintessa, typing it back to its origins.

The second inspiration, if potentially coincidental, could be GI Joe’s Cobra-La.

The GI Joe movie would reveal Cobra had its origins in Cobra-La, an ancient race of snake people that were the original dominant species of Earth before us mammalian humans evolved.

Cobra Commander is native to Cobra-La, originally being a snake man scientist who became mutated in a lab accident before becoming leader of the snake themed terrorist organization that’d slither into America.

He’s further mutated as punishment for his failure in taking over the world in Cobra-La’s name, slow mutating into a cobra.

While the DiC sequel series would see him restored, albeit still as a mutant snake man.

Presumably CC’s still a snake dude when he briefly menaces in the G1 Movie era Autobots as Old Snake.

Anyhow, the relevance to the Cobra-Laians and Quintessons, is the former use organic based technology. Basically, this means they create specially developed animals to use in place of tools, bridges & vehicles.

@bogleech’s own post on Cobra-La discusses other examples of their technology: https://bogleech.com/cobrala

In the GI Joe film, the Cobra-La people are disgusted by humanity’s use of inorganic machinery, and opt to eradicate humans and reclaim the land that was theirs prior to the Ice Age.

In the Energon Universe, this prejudice exists still for humans, as Cobra Commander is instead a human that lives in their ranks, but they’re more offended by the existence of the Transformers after CC’s science team dug out a frozen Megatron to study him.

Aghast at a cold, mechanical planet populated by giant metallic robots, Cobra-La sends Pythona aboard a space fairing … whatever this fella is…

… to Cybertron to nip this so called invasion in the bud.

It would appear she takes a semi unintentional detour, dealing with matters in the Void Rivals series first, where she’s set to battle the Skuxxoid in particular. (I’d laugh if she became the wife he constantly talks about.)

The Quints and Cobra-La sharing the concept of organic technology is honestly very interesting, and while I do think it was created independently of GI Joe, should more TFONE content be made and the Transformers and Quintessons go to Earth, a further connection to Cobra-La would be really cool.

It’s theorized in the Energon Universe that the Quintessons could’ve created or at least influenced the Cobra-La people, and such an idea isn’t unheard of, as the Zertonians and Agorrians of Void Rivals are revealed to be descendants of Transformers via a new character called Zerta Trion. It’s implied but not yet totally confirmed the Quintessons created the Transformers also via the G1 cartoon as well, and I just think it’d be hilarious if the proud, organic Cobra-La people would discover they’re related to the fully mechanical Transformers via the Quintessons and be utterly mortified. (I don’t think they’d like their Zertonian/Agorrian cousins much either since, despite being organic they have technology based Energon ports on their heads.)

Incidentally it feeds into a personal headcanon regarding EarthSpark, since MARS Industries exists here, that Quintus Prime used the Emberstone to seed life on Earth that would one day evolve into Cobra-La, making them relatives to the Terrans, Quintessons, and Lithonians (the later because Quintus reminds me of Kranix for some reason).

[lovinglonerhybrid]

Pubic library’s love Optimus prime!

Public libraries tend to rely a lot on government funding and local donations. now once Optimus here’s this he immediately begins to comb through the autobot archives for some books that he can donate. The librations are understandably veary confused when a truck load of books is dumbed by there doorsteps with the note ‘both the original text and English translation are available’ now these poor people open up the large books expecting another earth language but instead they get cybertronion. They put the English translations on display and they are all the subject of much scrutiny until someone actually sits and reads the texts and finds that they are very intriguing. There are story’s on ancient mystical robots that the books call primes. There are stories of war and rebellion and love and loss soon the library’s are hounded by meany dedicated fans of these mysterious books for Moore for a way to contact the author but there is nothing moor given to them in the form of books only donations signed by an O.P.

[transingthoseformers]

Thinking thoughts about how in the aligned continuity there are two characters referenced as the first Decepticon (Soundwave and The Fallen)

And how the relics were created/used by ancient autobots, but wouldn't tge autobots have been created in the Schism?

[anon-e-miss]

Inglorious

He had no idea how many mechanisms had fragged the mech. Jazz looked as the puddle of transfluids and lubricants at the mech’s peds and the way his aft gaped and his valve folds hung low and loose. It looked like everyone at the club had put the anonymous mech to good use and the dark-cycle was only half over. On the other side of the box, there was a hole big enough for mechanisms to stick their spikes in and Jazz wondered how many loads of cum the mech had swallowed as well. There were other gloryholes in the club but their was something about this one that seemed to have attracted the most attention. Walking over to the box, this was not even sloppy seconds, but tens or twenties but Jazz found he did not mind. He took hold of the mech’s big aft and sank his spike in his sloppy valve.

“Mm,” he heard the whisper of a moan as the mech in the box pushed back on his spike. Jazz groaned.

Despite having taken the spike of just about every club goer who had passed through this dark-cycle, the mech was not so loose that it was not a nice, wet frag for Jazz. Then again, he had quite a big spike. Usually, it took a lot of foreplay to get his partner ready. He had no mood for that this dark-cycle. Giving the mech’s aft a playful slap, Jazz gave him the full length of his spike and gave it to him hard. He could hear the mech gurgle as someone fed him their spike and he groaned. What a great slut, he took Jazz’s spike like a pro. Considering there was not even a tip jar, this mech was taking all this cock for free. It was wild. It was exciting. The slut did not even have a plug so Jazz took his time, fragging the mech’s gestational take before he overloaded deep in his belly. He groaned as he pulled out and a flood of transfluids and lubricants splattered at the slut’s peds. Polyhexian transfluids had a unique charge that repelled other frametype’s transfluids. The loads of dozens of mechansims covered the floor and Jazz got hard again. This time, he fragged the sweet slut’s loose aft. Jazz went home sated around close. When he looked back at the gloryhole, the mech was gone and Jazz hoped he had as good a night as Jazz had.

***

“Come on Smokescreen,” Prowl called. “We don’t want to miss our transport.”

“What’s are all of those!?” Smokescreen asked as he jogged up to his originator. He pointed at a collection of statues in the Hub.

“Those are the Knights of Cybertron,” Prowl replied. “Heroes of ancient Cybertron.”

“I’ve never seen their pictures before,” Smokescreen said, looking suspicious and inquisitive at the same time. It was a familiar look to his originator.

“Praxus has its own mythology,” Prowl replied.

“Mmm,” Smokescreen hummed. “I think knights sound like fun.”

“We’ll get you a book,” Prowl told him.

“Okay!”

Perhaps Prowl was spoiling him, as he had been accused of before but the happier Smokescreen was, the easier this move would be. They had left everything behind. Prowl had not made the decision to enlist in the Autobots impulsively. He had run it through his ATS a hundred times and discussed it with both his procreators at length. Ultimately, it had been his originator who had helped to solidify his decision. Camshaft had told him that Praxus was not truly Neutral and the mask made it vulnerable in all directions. With his procreators off world serving the Helix Lord’s interests off world for an undetermined amount of time, it had seemed like the best interest of his creation to pick a path and to see it through. Prowl had enlisted in the Autobots as a tactician and had accepted base housing to ensure the security of his creation, as best as he could in their unstable world.

“Will grandori and grandgeni be able to visit us?” Smokescreen asked.

“When they have leave to,” Prowl replied. “Travel between Praxus and Iacon is not banned or especially restricted. Otherwise, we would not be here ourselves.”

“That’s good,” Smokescreen said. “I miss them.”

“They miss you too,” Prowl told him, knowing it to be true. “They will make arrangements as soon as their deployment is over, I am sure of it.”

Passengers were loading on the transport when they approached. Prowl was pleased they had not been left behind. He had arranged for their baggage to be transported from the transport to the Convoy shuttle. Whether it actually had been, Prowl would not know until they reached the Autobase. It did not contain all their worldly possessions, most Prowl had arranged to be shipped. They could make do well enough with what had already arrived, namely their furniture. His first duty shift was not until the beginning of the next orn, until then, they could get settled, unpack and explore. By the time his shift started, Prowl was sure he would be halfway mad, desperate to put himself to work but Smokescreen had the unique ability to distract him from boredom. When you had a sparkling like Smokescreen, it was impossible to truly be bored.

“This is us,” Prowl announced and he and Smokescreen disembarked. Their luggage was deposited on the sidewalk. “Just like I said, there is a park just around the corner.”

“It looks okay,” Smokescreen declared, with the cheekiest of grins.

Thankfully, their berths and couches had arrived, along with the knickknacks Smokescreen had deemed important enough to bring with them. It was the furniture that mattered as Prowl knew the novelty of recharging in a berth designed for a different frametype wore out as soon as their doorwings started aching. He had already sent schematics to the school for the chair Smokescreen would need at his desk. He may well have been making a nuisance of himself already but Prowl thought it was important he made it clear to the school early on that he would advocate for his creation; it was a lesson his procreators had taught him by advocating for him when he had been young. They spent a few mega-cycles unpacking and exploring. The new work orn came far more quickly and far more suddenly than Prowl had expected it would. He brought Smokescreen to school and saw him to his new classroom before making his way to Tactics.

“We’ve seen the preliminaries of what you can do,” Delta Magnus declared. This was the Prime’s second in command. “I want to see what you can do first hand, however.”

Prowl found the simulations easy to navigate. The problems were not overly complex. They covered fuel shortages, power shortages, ambushes and open warfare. He made his choices with the needs of the many and the most valuable targets in processor and all without hesitation. As a rule, Prowl was not an emotive mech with his kin being the only mechanisms he relaxed that much around. Troops died in battle, it was unavoidable in war, but it was vital to limit these losses. A victory one could not hold was ultimately a defeat and this was his policy as he ran through all of his tests. If the SIC was impressed or disappointed, he did not show it. He waited for his assignment as Delta Magnus reviewed his results with other commanders.

“He’s ruthless,” Delta Magnus noted, not quiet enough to go unheard.

“He’s efficient,” said another. “He had a long career in the enforcers. He could be good with the ASF.”

“He’s restraint,” said another. “Put him with Special Operations. Primus knows they could use a shorter leash.”

“I can’t see that working,” the first said. “The glitches don’t like restraint.”

Prowl mentally bristled at the glyph. He sat quietly and waited. It would not please him to be have the first unnamed Autobot as his commander as he knew full well he would clash with anyone who used the idea of glitches as an insult. Many times in Prowl’s life he had been called a glitch, by teachers, by supervisors, by strangers and in every one of those times the mechanism used the term because they were incapable of understanding a divergent means of thinking and operating. Though Prowl had not directed any special operations in the enforcers, he did not need to. He was a tactician. He wrote strategies and analyzed data. There was no reason he would not be able to do so here.

“Autobot Punch,” Delta Magnus barked at the yellow and blue Polyhexian that stood in front of him. The one called Punch did not raise his red servos in salute but levelled the Convoy with a long look. “Autobot Prowl has been assigned to Special Operations as your new strat.”

“Ain’t heard o’ Ops havin’ a strat on staff,” Punch replied. He looked Prowl up and down. “If y’re lookin’ to add staff, a commandin’ officer is more in need.”

“You have a strat,” Delta Magnus said. “Since none of your lot have any sense.”

“Good-cycle, Autobot Punch,” Prowl greeted the mech as the SIC left.

“Good-cycle, Prowl,” Punch said. “Have ya been transferred from one of the other divisions?”

“No Sir,” Prowl replied. “I am newly enlisted. I moved to Iacon last orn with my creation.”

“Ya don’t gotta call me or anyone else in Ops sir,” Punch replied. “We ain’t sanctioned so we don’t got rank.”

“That seems... chaotic,” Prowl replied.

“It is,” Punch replied. “We make good use o’ it. Still... a strat might not be a bad thing. Do ya got any experience in Spec Ops?”

“No... Punch I was an enforcer,” Prowl replied.

“We might have some growin’ pains here,” Punch sighed.

“Perhaps I could assist whoever analyzes the data your operations uncover,” Prowl offered. “I was assigned to metaforensics. I am adept at analyzing data and uncovering what is not meant to be seen.”

“Mm,” Punch hummed. “Let’s you and me look at Jazz’s last report.”