#Tarn somewhat deals with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birthdaycakeplate · 3 years

Note

Optimus getting pampered because he deserves it-

We love that boi-

💖Oh! Oh 💕a stranger 💖who loves💗💕me! Ohhhhh!!! OHHHHHH, I love you 💗💝too ✨stranger💞

💘Thank you for this chance to project💘

I shortened it to heck and back, please believe me, but this is fic length, again.

I’ve also been sick for a couple weeks and really channeled that humiliation into ruining Optimus here. He’s baby to the max.

✨Warnings are in the tags✨

💕Thanks everyone💕

——- ————- —-

“Are you paid hourly, sniveling whelp?”

Optimus tilted his helm up towards the blur of navy and violet, looming in tall, twisted shapes above him.

This particular Decepticon apparently had much to hate him for -maybe more so than Sentinel at times. Thankfully, Optimus had learned this mech would never dare to pose anymore a threat to him than being an infinite source of insults and condescendence. Much like Sentinel...

And while he hadn’t a clue what he’d done to offend him so, this was thankfully a normal enough occurrence that Optimus knew he wasn’t in any real danger. Which was good, because he could barely suffer to stand upright at the moment.

Optimus, in his haggard state, only then remembered that he was holding a very breakable datapad in hand and scrambled with pitifully shaky servos to right his grip. Somehow this minuscule task was an entire feat to accomplish. It predictably earned him a sneer from the other mech.

As far as this ‘Cyclonus’ with all his unrepressed hate, standing there only half expecting to get a real reaction out of the smaller bot went, Optimus figured he’d do well enough to give him his usual proud flick of the finial and continue his work. Seemingly unbothered. Seemingly undisturbed by tonnes of angry war frame that’d like to crack open his helm for invading his terf and enraging him by simply existing.

But right now, the floor was precariously close to spinning out from underneath him, and he couldn’t remember for the life of him what his work actually was.

7 cyberweeks of pathetic bits of recharge. Nothing solid, nothing deep enough to free up all the clustered data he’d tried to shove in on 14 hour shifts.

Getting used to life on the Nemesis, the work expected of him from the Magnus as the sole mech trusted enough to handle the raging rouge that was Megatron -while also not being a terrible loss if all his leaders’ worst fears that they were dealing with unreachable beasts in this truce attempt came true- had left him seriously sleep deprived.

There was plenty to keep him awake at night.

His leaders, for example, had left him with little faith in any of their futures. Optimus had known from the start of this arrangement he had a far better grasp on the genuine civility of war frames than an out of term council who were quite stuck in their ways. Including the likelihood an entire enemy faction were going to open up for them before they did a grunt with little say in anything without the desire for confrontation than the history books had shown his superiors had. Demanding respect, demanding conformance.

Obviously Optimus was just hoping to survive this ordeal, and made him leagues more approachable than the council did. In that sense, the route they’d chosen to take with his role here was a much better idea than their direct involvement.

It still pained him to think they’d be so eager to shunt him off with what they believed were hoards of dangerous, raving lunatics still. It’d definitely kept him from having a peaceful recharge for some cycles now.

He couldn’t say he was surprised they had, however. And there was evidently some consolation in admitting the roots of this bizarre culture of mecha to be undoubtedly absurd, and thus somewhat a lot of raving lunatics. They had absolutely proved to be unnatural forces of crazy-

But still quite reasonable. Still Cybertronian. Still worthy of a chance.

One rather ethereal creature from the dark depths of Tarn in particular had proven so.

Optimus would kick himself in the aft for prioritizing thoughts of Megatron of all horrid creatures over whatever he’d been standing in the command center at this hour for.

His struts ached, his vents rattled, his helm felt muddled and cloudy.

He could hardly make sense of what Cyclonus’ weary once-over meant -his lagging processor trying to focus much too hard on the datapad down in his servo and why he’d brought it in here.

After another beat of uneventful silence, the dark mech finally chose to move on with his gruesome morning, and Optimus watched him go.

“Don’t vorry about zat lu-lu.” Blitzwing chirped happily from somewhere behind him. Optimus would need to see the medic onboard about his shorting audio receptors when it came through with a touch of static.

Blitzwing carried on.

“He’s a bit of a vild card! Always causing a stir, ja?”

Optimus nodded like he knew all about the terror from the sky that was Cyclonus, and his supposed antics. Deciding then that a walk about the place would jog his processor back up to speed.

He moved a bit sluggishly, careful not to hover too long at someone’s shoulder.... Lest he make another enemy among these easily offended sparks.

Then someone, he couldn’t imagine what kind of Decepticon would be concerned for him in anyway -or if maybe he’d just hallucinated the voice whispering things in his audial in the first place- mentioned something about him being a hazard, and that he didn’t belong on deck in this state.

Which was war frame for, ‘You need a break, bud’, and Optimus couldn’t help but feel a bit endeared by it. Wheezing through ex-vents, or not, he was starting to recognize a place for himself here.

As for their lack of faith that he wasn’t about to tumble over the nearest control panel and send them all careening into a star, well... Optimus was terribly offended. Maybe he could have used a few more kliks in recharge, sure. But he could do his job!

Everyone needed him to!

Whatever that job was exactly....

He surely looked like a lost turbo-puppy, shuffling aimlessly about, finials dipping low. Out of breath from his rigorous traipse across 3 war frame sized stairs. Thankfully, though, he noticed a rather quiet spot that was practically void of bots at the top and center of the room, overlooking the organized chaos below.

Optimus hardly registered his pedes carrying there until he was nestled into the nice, dim quiet. His optics long since adjusted to the strategical use of black light on the main deck.

Having a moment to stop and rest, he found it the slightest bit easier to think up here. He took a labored breath that did nothing to clear his vents and held his datapad up to optic level.

He blinked down at the same header he strangely remembered reading over and over a few hours ago before the glyphs had started to merge and the room began to spin. Clearly he’d been in this poor shape for a while now and had had far too many chances to fix the issue. He deserved everything coming to slap him ‘round the faceplate for it.

Optimus stared intently at the pad like that would unlock all the secrets it possessed, staring numbly with helm swimming, until the datapad began to move father and farther away. Farther and farther, and then-

Warm, blissful silence.

——- ————- ————

Megatron had watched the little fiend stagger around the room in a kind of daze, wandering like he hadn’t spent the last 3 deca-cycles leaving his prints around the place. Pestering Megatron about ethical nonsense the entire time.

Clearly his processor was vacant enough not to know which way was up, as the little bot eventually came to stand on tired pedes beside him at Megatron’s throne of all places. Likely having moved there completely subconsciously in an effort to find somewhere quiet and soothing in his addled state.

His absolutely desolate state, really... poor thing wasn’t processing slag.

Megatron was surprised to find him take his place among him, wondering -hoping- if Optimus had perhaps *sought* his company out by some kind of instinct.

They certainly seemed to calm in each other’s presence under more cordial circumstances. Mostly notably during their occasional evening fuelings together where they entertained themselves by digging at some of their favorite tasteless literature -a hobby of sorts which they looked forward to, though the evenings were never actually planned.

And during the short briefings he’d decided at last to give the Prime a part in- the two quickly devolving into thinly veiled teasing in favor of committing to their very important work. Giving each other backhanded compliments until someone cracked and it turned in to full on sass and a mockery of the command room.

And during their trips across opposite ends of the near infinite ‘vessel from hell’, stopping when they came across each other to whittle away hours upon hours on stunted small talk, talk that Megatron would have sooner shot the jaw plate right off of anyone else who thought they should waste his time with. Optimus’ most common subject of interest being about how pretty the nearest constellation looked that evening.

Weirdly enough, running in to each other after having not seen the other for the length of that cycle doused the tension in something intimate. Those little talks always felt the most fragile and precious.

It was inevitable really. Wasting that time away doing nothing more than yammering about their ridiculous time on Earth in some kind of reminiscing that old friends do. Things that Megatron had hardly even made sense of at the time and felt strange and surreal they’d even shared those moments together -volatile as they were.

And sometimes it was them discussing their favorite theater (and Megatron’s endless surprise that Optimus even had such) until one of them remembered they were long overdue somewhere important.

Drawn to each other, like magnets.

Maybe, truthfully, he was romanticizing any time they spent together. Megatron was familiar -Optimus was likely only lured so easily by his company, because he was the only familiarity on an entire fleet of hostile faces.

But he could hope, because....

Well, because.... Because *Megatron* certainly liked having his company.

There, he breathed it into being. Couldn’t pretend it wasn’t so now that he’d spared so much thought about Optimus’ taste in defensive maneuvers over early fuelings, now could he?

Right now, though, the little Prime’s normally welcome presence was overshadowed by one anxious warlord with fists clenched, watching as the smaller mech began to sway.

The little fool hadn’t done a thing he’d been told about keeping his own schedule for recharge when he’d come aboard. The place was a chaotic mess, no one would be there to remind him to do ‘self care’ -a word that made most ‘Cons cringe away.

Of course, head strong, young and eager to prove himself, Optimus hadn’t listened... So sure he wouldn’t be struggling to keep up with powerful war type engines with enough stamina to work a kilocycle without a defrag (Megatron thought fondly of Shockwave).

Optimus simply had gone and overclocked himself like an aft. Megatron had noticed a disturbing pattern that involved Optimus not listening to anything concerning his health that wasn’t life or death. He’d seen a small instance of such when the bot showed blatant disregard for a gouging burn in his servo from his accidental contact with the lovely Sunstorm, convinced Ultra Magnus needed his report more than he needed emergency repairs. He couldn’t feel it, after all, so why couldn’t it wait another solar cycle?

For all his levelheadedness and practically, Optimus had failed further to recognize that sleep, at least, *was* life or death.

Well, then. Megatron, as a great and glorious leader, would just have to fix this mess himself. Possibly the only bot in existence that’d ever deserved Megatron’s kindness, and he wasn’t even cognitive enough to appreciate it.

A big, black servo engulfed a little, blue one and pulled.

Down went Optimus without a bit of fight in him, yanked right off his pedes and into Megatron’s lap. His optics had already offlined before he’d even landed, and he lay there silently, chest moving with every soft ex-vent.

Megatron shifted his thighs wider to offer more support to the little figure of exhaustion below, keeping him cradled. Observing the way his finials slipped lower down his helm and feeling rather enamored with the sight.

Getting Optimus in a state that wasn’t ‘suspicious’ or ‘cautious’ or ‘completely untrusting of a single mech in his vicinity’ was impossibly rare. It meant Megatron never got to see him with his guard down -something he’d have loved to see more of in their time on earth while they’d been at each other’s throats.

This look on him was surprisingly very much preferred -perfectly content to slumber away in his lap, unbothered, if Megatron didn’t know any better.

He couldn’t help but indulge in the sight of the little mech looking at ease, curling into his warmth. Incapable of being weighed down by the eternal war he seemed to wage with himself about whatever benign thing a pure spark had to guilt themself over.

The terror of Kaon, far too pleased with his new trophy however temporary, dared any curious optics looking their way that might settle for even a nanoklik a look of his own that promised slow, painful death. No one accepted his challenge and kept their helms down and about their busy lives.

Satisfied, Megatron looked down at his little menace from Iacon. The battered mech that’d both found his way onto Megatron’s pristine warship and -somehow- into the bounds of Megatron’s limited patience. And like a fool that wasn’t experienced for millennia in using good sense, Megatron had willingly opened both up to Optimus’ delightful presence, forcing them to allow him entrance and respect. Impossible to ignore.

Megatron would maybe admit he’d given in long before this truce and the bot’s position here.

Maybe around the time Optimus had snapped back at his attempts to break him with far too much confidence for a mech half his size. Maybe when he’d hauled him off his aft into custody with more nobility and honor than Megatron had ever seen an Autobot possess.

Optimus’ vents stuttered, worrying him further that something serious might be wrong.

Had he worked himself sick? Megatron had seen Lugnut do it -he’d seen Starscream do it.

He’d seen all his driven, loyal subordinates do it at one point or another.

This one was not the same, though. This one was small and easy to exhaust with pretentious has-beens like Ultra Magnus demanding the work of 5 mechs from him. From the few instances he’d seen him interact with the more sociable ‘Cons, he’d noticed Optimus was rather easy to guilt, too. Megatron had found that startling revelation quite a detriment to the little one’s health. A guilty Optimus, whatever had set him off, proved himself a workaholic and struggled to think of himself as more than just a cog in the machine. The ‘greater good’ outweighed the needs of the overworked few.

Megatron had no doubt in this case he had worked himself to sickness out of sheer guilt that some other bot might be even slightly inconvenienced by his absence.

Megatron bristled as he wondered who of his men could have put it in his processor that they mattered even remotely as much as Optimus’ well being did. Who was possibly more important than this weary one here?

A big, warm palm moved to fiddle idly with a windshield, stroking the glass, careful of its skewering claws. He received a tilted helm burying into his side in response.

Megatron was perceptive, and he’d directed that towards learning a bit about the thoroughly guarded bot below. When he considered every option, the chances were that Optimus had put the thought that he should be forgoing his health for the sake of his work in his own head. He seem predisposed to such from what Megatron had seen of Shockwave’s academy records of the Prime. Those very sensitive, very interesting records.

The little truck slumbered away. So frighteningly beyond the limits of a simple restful recharge with the hitch in his vents that Megatron was pushed to call in Hook. Fearful a permanent stasis was fast approaching.

Little fool....

—— ————-

Optimus awoke to a large warmth draped across his side, and the generous padding beneath his backstrut he could blearily make out as his berth. The pad felt near infinite, stretching on whichever way he sprawled, molding to his tired frame.

No.

No, not *his* berth.

Optics going wide, Optimus frantically looked over his surroundings, processor stalling when a visual feed finally made sense of things with smell and touch quickly following.

That large warmth was an impossibly large war frame lying a servo over him, pressed against his side. The smell of gun smoke, of something decidedly mech filled his olfactory. Without a thought he breathed deep, venting that heady mix deeper into his chest.

“You’re awake already?” Megatron -of all the horrifying creations in the galaxy- was sitting in a chair that’d been moved flush against the berth, so he could easily reach for his diminishing patient atop it.

Optimus willed his spark to extinguish then and there and let his frame sink into the padding, and further still, into oblivion.

Primus, just offline him now...

He clutched at the arm across him with hands he’d steadied through sheer force of will.

“I-where am I- what am I doing here- what are *you* doing here?”

“These are my private quarters, and I was told you’d be in recharge for at least a week.”

Megatron’s private quarters- with said mammoth of metal and muscle casually draping a servo over his unconscious figure? Great.

And this talk that he’d be in recharge for a week? A whole week?

Why in the Allspark would he-

Everything suddenly became more clear to him than it had since his steady decline of sleep on the Nemsis some deca-cycles ago. Awareness crashing into him all at once, cutting through his consciousness, and the unfortunate conclusion was-

“Oh... Oh no!” Optimus felt his spark sink to his tanks.

“I have to order rations for the crew on Kleese side! I have to secure a line between the expedition team that joined-“

In panic and sleep deprivation and whatever thing had made his helm all staticky, Optimus processor quickly got away from him.

“If we have another Phantom Fleet, it’ll all be *my* fault!” He cried, Megatron looking completely at a loss for *that* statement.

“I need to confirm I’m an available resource manager- they don’t even know I exist yet! They don’t have the proper facilities without someone to work the line! I have to report to Ultra Magnus- I-“ Optimus stopped with optics wide and rolled with great effort onto his side to level with the bigger mech.

“*How long have I been in recharge*?”

Megatron frowned accordingly.

“A few solar cycles.”

“No! *No*!” Optimus had to force himself to loosen his grip on the giant servo to keep from denting it. Easy enough, when defeat began to mingle with exhaustion.

He’d let everyone down, again...

That thought alone was enough to renew his vigor and send him practically crawling up the berth to escape Megatron’s hold.

“It’s too late, the expedition team will be starved to death already! I have to arrange a list of casualties-“

Free of one serval tonne servo, Optimus swiftly sat himself up, and was immediately met with a hot palm splaying over his chest plate. Pushing him back down with half the effort it’d take to restrain a fully functional Optimus.

“I have to get back, Megatron! The party have families waiting-“

“They’ve got everything they need, Prime!” Megatron said, half hysterical. The absolute delusion a frantic Optimus could conjure in his guilt. His *bizarre*, outlandish guilt.

“You aren’t the only communications source for my men- what an ordeal that would be.” Megatron had the audacity to roll his optics at the other’s mortal coil.

“But I-“

That servo moved from his chest to reach beneath him and lift his weakened frame just enough to stuff a pillow that was definitely not standard issue for the common rabble underneath his helm. Optimus’ aching shoulders fell into it gratefully.

Megatron continued to undo the tension tying him into knots with more of his usual bleak, hopeless reassurances. The ones Optimus was oddly endeared by and appreciated the familiarity of, despite the cold honesty.

“This alliance between our people is a glorified test run, and, inevitably, an excuse to continue the war when your leaders choose the most damning evidence you’ve unwittingly presented to them these past cycles to declare us ireedemable by Primus. And further, a wasted effort. Others far more capable at the moment have your position filled, Optimus Prime.”

No, Optimus wasn’t sure his leaders were actually so eager for the war to wage on- more like they had little to no hope an alternative was truly possible.

Which, why send him here in the first place then?

It was at that moment Megatron’s shameless spark burst to life, and a thick digit reached out to tentatively trace over the vents in Optimus’ abdomen. Up and down, crossing over the dull, bladed edges of his grille with a ‘clink’ when his claws caught over each fold. Careful not to bare down.

“W-what are you,” Optimus cleared his vocalizer and pushed that warm palm putting a flutter in his tanks away.

“What are you doing?”

‘It’s me, Optimus. Not that you remember my name when it doesn’t explicitly suit you.’ Was what he’d wanted to say. But how *exactly* could he deny how weirdly intimate their encounters had been as of late, anyway?

What with long, pointless conversations at late hours in empty corridors about Megatron’s extensive exploits from long before Optimus’ creation. Or asking, perhaps a bit too forwardly, to hear of his recreational works -which Megatron would deny him, though clearly flattered all the same. Or actively seeking the other’s gaze to share an eye roll with at the insanity of morning refuelings with all the ‘Cons who’d happily see each other pushed down a quarry forced to interact, providing endless entertainment of the violent sort.

One more unabashed display from this deplorable mech was hardly a surprise.

Even if this had been the first time their.... weird relationship had delved into this side of something genuine -like Megatron appearing honestly concerned for his well being.

Which was ludicrous, of course, but...

He had dragged him into his berth after all.

How and why had he ended up here, again?

Megatron looked unbothered by Optimus’ sudden shyness.

“I was merely trying to keep you relaxed. I need to keep you comfortable.” Megatron purred, like being in his berth wasn’t already questionable enough without *that* particular tone.

“Hook was quite clear that you needed ‘proper’ rest -and so, are you feeling content? How can I put your processor at ease?”

Optimus stalled.

Hook? The medic that’d threatened to throw Skywarp’s dismembered arms into a smelter instead of helping reattach them, but a medic no less? Optimus could only figure he’d fainted then, since he was missing such a large chunk of his memory in the time before Megatron’s overwhelmingly big berth was all he’d come to know.

And if the medic involved had assigned him here, then he’d been put on berth rest...

How humiliating.

Now he wished he’d just taken the extra care to recharge before he’d passed out in front of his superior.

His superior? Was Megatron even? Optimus was incredibly grateful his role and orders when given this position were so painfully vague now, and didn’t have to worry too much about his insubordinate streak towards both factions if it meant he didn’t have to consider *Megatron* his *superior*.

He made to move again, feeling he had to do *something*. He sat up again and got as far as swinging his legs over the edge of the berth before Megatron proved he was apparently happy to follow doctor’s orders for once -A miracle, considering the time he’d walked around on poisoned Energon once, refusing a system flush. He’d thrived off the contaminated fuel even, by pure spite to Starscream alone.

Optimus was really ready to get out of berth now.

“You’re staying here.”

Fantastic....

“Can’t I stay in my own room?” He pushed at the mech invading his space and blocking his escape.

“Certainly. And I will ensure you stick to doctor’s orders while you do so.”

Optimus’ finials tipped forward threateningly. Megatron ignored the pitiful display.

After a moment of unwavering wills clashing together and filling the expansive room with tension, Optimus had to sigh and swallow his shattered pride. Hoping this wasn’t the kind of thing he’d have to make a report about that would inevitably end up in the hands of Ratchet for future physicals.

He looked down at the big servo resting on the berth beside his thigh, waiting with deadly precision to jump out and snag him around the waist should he attempt freedom once more.

Controlling bastard.

“What sort of orders do I have?” Optimus growled, finials flat to his helm in an entirely different kind of threat.

“Luckily, the simple sort. And all very manageable by me.”

“You? You’re my keeper now?” Optimus hoped sassing would provoke the other into releasing him. Even if that was relatively hard to do.

“Can you afford to add ‘Nemesis Din Mother’ to your terrifying list of aliases?”

“I couldn’t very well afford ‘Forsaker of the Only Mech I Find Tolerable And At Times Reasonable’, now could I? But seeing as now isn’t one of your more sensible moments, I will assume the role as ‘Temporary Carer’.”

“Why?” Slipped out before Optimus could think better of ruffling the only bot concerned with his safety -and even with his scratchy vocalizer, he’d manage to sound quite demanding.

Who could blame him? With a history composed of violence and distrust once, this was the stuff of fever dreams.

Regardless, “Weren’t you listening?” was the significantly bemused response he received, and it was nowhere near satisfying enough an answer.

He supposed he would have to let ‘coworkers’ via ‘peace time’ be good enough a reason. As if that normalized being doted on in a work associate’s bed.

—— ———— —

Stuck in a berth on medical leave was one of the most painful experiences in Optimus’ lifecycle.

He was trapped there on special orders in a room where his former archenemy, who’d never bothered to remember his name at one time, could just waltz in and irritate him with news about the ship’s perfect functioning while their martyr took a much needed break. Aft.

Optimus could handle the sarcasm and pigheadedness -he’d gotten both from his Earth crew and Sari regularly. The awkward doting, however, when Megatron would bring him cubes and wait patiently (unnecessarily) for him to finish them before asking if he was still hungry was another thing.

As were the extra berth sheets that’d slowly started accumulating around Optimus, until he was practically lying fluffed up and wrapped inside a nest.

As were the corrosive polishes freshly bought and presented to him to use for a quick buffing when a private wash rack was a door away.

Confusing- mind blowing- so, so unnecessary- so, so humiliating.

He could have done without all this, yes, but he wasn’t sure if he’d have been saved the same fate if he’d demanded to suffer alone in his own quarters. Megatron was clearly actively seeking him out.

Finding the ex war lord locked inside his private room any other time was a rarity, ever present and foreboding someplace on the ship where there were blithering mechs to scare.

Now that Optimus couldn’t even get rid of him with Cyber-bear mace if he tried, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been something of a personal target of his since coming aboard the Nemesis. They did have a way of running in to each other, but *this*.... Megatron was always fluttering about his room now, having such important paperwork to do all the sudden -the sort he’d shuck off on Shockwave prior- and leaving Optimus to endure his frequent company.

Which wouldn’t be so bad- Optimus couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy the niche similarities they did share. Who else honestly thought tactical maneuvers was a fun subject? Or that the great wars the bigger mech had weathered made for interesting story time?

But the fact that he was spending hours lying uselessly around a cushiony little nest, accepting warm fuelings, Megatron’s personal literature, and allowing himself to doze to the sound of that baritone voice when there were bots upstairs working themselves to stasis -and not by their own doing- was just plain unacceptable.

“Don’t rush your recovery, Optimus. Your system functions need time to come back online- and to do that you need adequate recharge for all the cycles you missed. And fuel.” Megatron extended a servo to the pouting mech, holding a mesmerizing, swirling cube of Energon.

Optimus sat up, thoroughly reprimanded for acting like a sparkling, and peered over at the dazzling purple slush inside.

“And *that* is supposed to be adequate fuel?”

More than adequate- that was the problem. The ‘that’ in question was an Energon goodie, that much was obvious, and while still very unnecessary, he couldn’t help but wonder about its unusual contents.

Optimus reached for it and gingerly took a sip, finials pricked high upon his helm.

He savored the smooth, sugary gush, optics locked suspiciously on the terrible mech awaiting his approval. A smirk slowly forming.

“This alloy tastes like an Earth solution. Potassium permanganate?”

Very much not a thing a despiser of all things organic would keep aboard his ship.

Further more, no matter how good and sweet it tasted, a splash of medical grade human antiseptic had never occurred to him he might try as a junky little treat. How’d Megatron figure so? Where’d he even get it?

And why hadn’t he stopped taking sips already?

His pout was significantly less effective when plush lips were busy sucking down their fourth fueling in a cycle -and especially so, when it was laced with additives for substantially less health related reasons.

He should really stop accepting this kind of treatment. Maybe if he just reminded Megatron that frivolous expenditures had always been beneath him before Optimus’ self induced injury....

“I’ll fetch you another.” The larger mech said.

He turned towards the door and stopped abruptly to consider his own words. A momentary pause that was dismissed much too quickly for someone who once openly sang of the conquering of Autobot Tyranny and its desire to reduce his people to little more than giant, thoughtless pets, and then he was off to ‘fetch’ his drink.

Leaving Optimus almost inconsolably bewildered, and with a half full cube of treated Energon he’d hardly made a dent in tilted towards his lips.

The absurdity of Megatron practically self proclaiming himself Optimus’ new errand boy seemed to bring him to his senses a bit.

Was Megatron.... coddling him?

Coddling *him*? Optimus Prime?

And also, *Megatron* and *coddling*?

No, no, no, no. Now he was just being an idiot.

First of all, the frequent playfulness in their interactions -yes, he could admit their constant taunting of the other was hardly the stuff of unbridled hate these days- didn’t exactly mean he’d earned himself any special privileges. Optimus was still an inconvenience to him, put here in a measly attempt to keep some control over the affairs of adventurous, destructive war machines in the wake of a shaky truce.

It wasn’t like Megatron’s interest in him went farther than Optimus’ ability to offer him challenging conversation and fresh perspective (on matters he apparently wasn’t being taken seriously in managing here either. Surprise).

And those were Optimus’ own thoughts exactly on the dangerous ‘Con. Megatron was a fun challenge -now that he wasn’t hellbent on his destruction. He was a welcome change to Optimus’ stagnant life.

This surreal, shocking amount of care he’d shown on Optimus’ behalf -which was again, unnecessary- wasn’t anything as outlandish, as *impossible* as Megatron wishing to *coddle* him. To keep him safe and see him back to health once more. It was just.... he was just....

Optimus hadn’t a clue *what* he was doing. He only knew it wasn’t coddling for Primus’ sake. Though still very odd and very much a mystery -one that’d tear him apart at the seams until he had suitable answers. Make him question everything he’d come to know about the Decepticon leader and whether he was just an ambitious, presumptuous mech for even entertaining the idea-

And Optimus should *really* stop frying his circuits over all this and get some much needed recharge.

He sipped his cube with both hands, finally used to the sizable difference in the war class’ servos to his own. It was still warm and sweet, and it lulled him into a comfortable recharge, back down into the pillowy layers of his makeshift nest.

Happily oblivious to Megatron’s heated gaze when he returned with his fifth ration, taking enormous pride in having secured the little mech’s comfort. Though, one more sheet wouldn’t hurt.

——— ———— —-

He’d figured he’d survived the full insanity of his situation and came out on top when his subroutines reverted to his usual standard, and Optimus was able to go more than a few hours without rest again. It wouldn’t be long before he was his old self, and he’d be cleared for the bridge.

So why now, when he was capable of walking himself over to the washroom for solvent showers and fuelings cut to twice a cycle again, was Megatron ten times harder to get rid of?

Optimus couldn’t swing a thigh over the edge of berth before Megatron was subspacing his datapad and hurrying to his side. Offering a hand to take.

“I’m not completely dilapidated,” Optimus mumbled -which he never had been.

“You don’t have to worry about me falling apart if I walk to the mess hall.”

“Why are you walking at all?” Megatron countered and sounded ever so slightly annoyed at the prospect.

Like having a mech who was capable of getting up and walking around to fend for himself was more annoying than having an independent bot with near perfect functioning lying uselessly in his berth.

Megatron was perceptive, calculating. He could see that Optimus was doing fine now, and it was more than a little shocking that he hadn’t decided it time for him to move on and resume their work like normal honestly.

Optimus thought it time he ask him such.

“I can’t thank you enough for watching out for me,” He began, even taking the servo offered in a gesture of goodwill.

“But I’m good as new -more or less. I can handle myself from here on, so-“

“Allow me to see you to your destination.”

Optimus was cut off, and that was as much a sign as any that Megatron wasn’t leaving this up for debate. Which was *odd*, but fine with Optimus. He liked his company when it wasn’t centered around him being babysat like a mechling.

Optimus dipped his helm and shrugged.

“Fine. Maybe we can get some work done while we walk. I’d like to know where we stand with the crew on Kleese now. Are they receiving full necessities? I’ve noticed you war frames don’t prioritize medical leave in the event of an injury.”

Megatron would like to shake him unconscious and explain to him how that was the greatest hypocrisy of the seven centuries when he awoke.

He walked with Optimus side by side, watching him from the narrow corner of his optic. As if he thought Optimus might be about to bow over and faint any moment. The smaller bot tried not to grind his denta together too loudly.

“Everyone is accounted for, all resources at their disposal, and communications have not been met with interference. They have orders to explore further.”

“But they have access to the home ship at any time?” Optimus asked, as he began to tread a little more slowly.

“What if they go too far?”

Megatron seemed to find the idea amusing.

“You are the only civil frame in our ranks, Optimus. A war frame is capable of amazing arduous feats, immeasurable to the strength of your little engine.”

Not so immeasurable the most powerful of their class couldn’t be beaten down with the Magnus hammer, firstly.

And secondly, ‘part of their ranks’?

“I’m not actually assigned to a position in your military.” Optimus pointed out, finding it a bit difficult to say so. Why was the room getting darker?

Megatron only sighed whimsically.

“Unfortunately, no.”

‘Unfortunately’?! Optimus gawked.

He would argue that the council couldn’t wait to get rid of him, and here his former enemy was acting like he’d make even a decent fit among a lot of cut throats and thugs able to work through recharge and survive whole missing sensory circuits without shedding a tear.

“However,” Megatron continued, unconcerned with Optimus’ inner turmoil.

“You’ve certainly made a place for yourself here. You’re practically one of ours now.”

Optimus went very quiet then, worried the affects of his self induced injury had somehow become contagious and spread to Megatron to damage his processor. Did he hear himself right now?

“Well,” Megatron began, voice deep and thoughtful. So low it was unlikely Optimus was entirely meant to hear his inner musings.

“I consider you so. I’d be a fool not to claim you as quickly and thoroughly as possible.”

“Excuse me?!” Optimus wheezed through his vents. He hadn’t even realized when they’d come to a stop, but that’d been enough of a gut punch to send him clutching at Megatron’s armor like a lifeline.

“You’ve pushed yourself too far, little one.”

Optimus opened his mouth to hiss indignantly at the pet name, and immediately devolved into a coughing fit. His grip loosening, as he curled in on himself.

“I’m calling Hook.” Megatron hummed and almost sounded panicked, but the single palm wrapped around Optimus’ waist, pushing his weight into the bigger mech’s felt calming and sure. Promising the other his grip wouldn’t slip in the slightest.

Beyond feeling like there were slivers of glass cutting at his intake, Optimus decided Megatron’s rather overbearing approach to him as of late wasn’t such a bad thing. If he hadn’t been here, Optimus would have been stuck struggling to vent for however long until someone came walking by. And if it had been Cyclonus who’d found him in this scenario, he wouldn’t have gotten the appropriate care he’d needed.

He let the dizziness blur with his sudden exhaustion and was soon fading into unconsciousness against a sturdy chest plate.

——- ———— -

Optimus woke to that familiar warm servo draped across him sometime later. Now waring the effects of a system flush on Hook’s command, trying to turn the room upside down on him, he had little choice but to listen quietly to the firm lecture Megatron had clearly prepared for him.

“Why do you push yourself? You understand there are consequences to such foolishness, yet you are optimistic the risk will prove worth the punishment. It hasn’t thus far.” Optimus certainly didn’t need reminding of that truth.

“It’s left you in an even worse state now. You must see how much progress this has cost you as opposed to have simply *waiting* until you were fully recovered. Why push yourself?”

There was so much disappointment in his tone, and the little bot couldn’t believe how that could feel more miserable than his aching tanks.

Optimus felt like a bigger idiot than when he’d boarded that ship for Archa Seven.

He was blessedly spared the awful, crushing force of his embarrassment by a system alert to purge. He jolted against the servo pinning him down, but the warning passed as quickly as it came. Faulty code from the flush- it was doing away with contaminants on its own without the need purging. Which means Optimus would just have to lie there uselessly, absolutely swimming in nausea, and endure the seething mech at his side while he fought random alerts to purge his brain module out.

“Sorry.” He croaked. He was only sorry Megatron was the one having to see him act a fool.

He surely made a pathetic display, as Megatron’s other servo came up out of the purest sympathy he hadn’t known him to possess to smash his cheek plate into the palm of his hand, cradling the side of his helm. Thumb stroking a finial. Optimus shivered.

“I doubt it.” Megatron finally said, and he’d be right.

Optimus had had a job to do, and recharge hadn’t been such a priority. He was much less likely to stand by that now, though, if it meant he’d be withering away in Megatron’s berth for eternity.

He’d rather be here on more pleasant terms.

Or not at all.... Definitely not at all.... yeah... uh...

“Who convinced you to take such little care in yourself, Optimus? Who put it in your processor that you matter so little? *It is appalling*, you understand?”

Optimus would tell him ‘nobody’, if he had half a mind and none of this dizziness making his helm spin. Mostly because he wasn’t even worth most peoples’ processing power.

But without the privilege of good sense and a throat that wasn’t aching with untapped emotions, Optimus simply shrugged and confessed, “I think it’s kind of obvious.” And clung a little tighter to that servo keeping him grounded.

He couldn’t tell what Megatron thought of that- whether it was disgust at the self pity or anger that a mech he apparently considered quite capable and intelligent would let such doubt overwhelm him. His optics kept shuddering, and in the dark, Optimus could barely tell which way was up without Megatron to hold him there.

But a rumble came from a powerful chest above him, rattling through his frame and filling him in a terrifying way for the possessiveness with which it spoke. He leaned into the palm at his cheek and basked in it, thoroughly surprised to find Megatron so doting for his unbecoming confession.

“If that is so obvious, why am I here? I, who wouldn’t waste my time on anything so ‘unworthy’?”

Megatron’s servo slid free to stroke languidly down Optimus’ middle. Seemingly fixated on the blades of his grille like the first time he’d taken him to berth.

And in a voice much deeper than Optimus was sure he’d ever heard it, lulled him into a quiet recharge with the softest confession of his own.

“Your worth isn’t measured by my infatuation, mind you. You are simply enough as you are, Optimus. You.... matter.”

Whether that was true or not, Optimus could hardly hope to deny so. It felt too good to hear it, but especially when it’d been Megatron to say it. Even if he sounded quite out of his depths.

He’d never know Megatron simply felt there were no words to convey the true importance of the brilliant little mech he’d stumbled across by dumb luck. This mech that deserved higher praise than one lowly lord could hope to give him.

——— ———— -

Optimus drifted in and out of recharge, offered plenty of fuel and warm words whispered in his audial between them. A few stabs at the foolishly fearless mech that had once challenged Megatron to a battle back on earth when he was so easily defeated by recharge, too. Optimus had just enough energy to sass back with talk of the pitiful space bridge debacle.

Having turned over to low prone at some point, it earned him a gentle caress along the place between his shoulders, and he was forced to hide his burning face in the hoards of blankets, willing the flutter in his spark to recede with the tension Megatron dutifully rubbed away there.

He’d deny up and down the way his engines purred at the generous touch. Soaking the foreign attention up quicker than he had the Energon.

Megatron’s affections were their own abundant source, apparently, and Optimus felt blessed to be their receiver. Finally allowing himself to give in and believe himself absolutely worthy of this explicit care. Humming and stretching when a particular spot was pushed into just so, turning him into little more than a puddle of mech.

“Roll over.” Megatron ordered, unwilling to entertain protests of any sort. So much so that he took the smaller bot by the hips and flipped him himself.

Optimus felt awash in the sensations of those battle worn hands against his chassis, undoing decades of stress. Pawing at him until his frame felt anew and free of ages of wear. Processor, too.

————— —————

He wasn’t surprised to see the ex warlord in remarkably better spirits when the illness had finally passed, and Optimus had returned to his now substantially more esteemed position. If only because Megatron knew he was taking care to get that precious recharge going forward- in Megatron’s berth, no less.

Optimus took the junky Energon treat the ‘Con shamelessly offered with all the grace of an overprivileged grunt receiving the special treatment of his high commander could. Bringing it over to sip happily from atop his perch on the throne’s armrest, finials flicking at an incensed Cyclonus marching by.

———- ——————-

This is disgustingly fluffy, I know, but I fought against the much worse fluff crimes I am capable of to spare you. And myself. I have to stop outing myself like this.

🤍Stranger, thank you, because this message was so amazing, and I want to give you something in return for allowing me to splurge and humiliate myself appropriately🤍 Being sick was worth it to scribble this thing out and just vent.

#Strong language used #Sick Optimus #Guilty Optimus #Pampered Optimus #Megatron is a cocksure aft but has genuine concern #My strange obsession with eating weird objects showed up in this I’m sorry #Random au #The general chaos of me attempting any kind of half baked lore so I can focus on giving Optimus a tummyache to make better #Megatron indulges in being a provider #Strange and undefined relationships at first #Mentions of the council and Magnus being foolish but generally good bots #Megatron is HOPELESSLY infatuated #Tfa #megop #tfa Optimus prime #GRAMMAR AND SPELLING ERRORS sorry bout that

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artsy-hobbitses · 3 years

Note

If you could make your transformers comic or tv series or game, but the catch is you could only use a limited amount of characters similar to beast wars , prime, or rid with the inclusion of guest characters. Who would be you dream team of bots and cons? Please exclude Op, Megs, scream, Bumblebee , Ratchet and soundwave because these guys are mainstream characters that always show up in one form or another.

Ooooh this is fun 83

I don’t know about Dream Teams, but I’d love to tell some side stories with the fan faves but still get less airtime so:

AUTOBOTS:

Prowl and Jazz as Team Dads (Queerplatonic)

Springer (who will be something of Prowl’s fast-growing Child Surprise--they have a decent if not somewhat awkward relationship with each other---and Kup’s apprentice)

Kup as Team Gramps.

Arcee as Team Murder Grandma (GRANNY’S OUT EVERYONE TAKE COVER)

Ambulon as Team Medic. (Absolutely fleeing the DJD as a ‘traitor’ also guys, he’s so goddamn tired pls)

Mirage as Team Sniper (vvv They’re dating!)

Hound as Team Scout (^^^ They’re dating! Also I’m about take some ARTISTIC LIBERTIES and portray him with a more dog-like face ala BW!Silverbolt)

Perceptor as Team Scientist

Whirl as Team Disaster

Strongarm as Team HeavyHitter

Verity Carlo as the Token Human (Hangs around with Springer and Strongarm, and sometimes Whirl when she’s feeling particularly chaotic)

- There would be HEAVY focus on Prowl’s background, how he had to break away from his early programming, his relationships w/Jazz, Mesothulas and Springer. There may be heavy guilt associated with the reason they’re the only Autobots here (Are the others lost? Dead? Who knows?), how he struggles to fit OP’s shoes alongside Jazz and how he realizes that he doesn’t need to be like OP to lead (something he’s quietly dealt with for a long time before this, being ‘uncharismatic’ by ‘Bot standards and often passed off as more talk than action)

DECEPTICONS:

Shockwave as....Team Dad 83;;;;

Tarn as Team Bastard

Vos as Team Sniper

Helex as Team HeavyHitter

Kaon as Team Scout

Tesarus as Team HeavyHitter

Nickel as Team Medic/Grandma

Mesothulas (Prowl’s bitter, questionable ex clearly) as Team Scientist

Airachnid as Team Mnemosurgeon/Saboteur

Bludgeon as Team Oh Shit Oh Fuck Gramps Is Doing A Torture Again

Swindle as Team Have I Got a Definitely Not Blood Money Deal For You

- LISTEN let me just explore Shockwave as a far more ruthless Decepticon leader than Megs and also DJD. All the DJD.

#inbox

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earthstellar · 3 years

Text

Transformers Analysis: Folklore and Folk Magic in the Mines of Kaon

thinking about Miner Megatron again, as always. here we goooo

So I've been doing some folk magic, as I usually do, and it got me thinking:

Surely, the lower class/caste bots wouldn’t feel welcomed into the more organised Cybertronian temples etc., or might even be outright banned from joining in shared spiritual spaces or rituals.

So it’s time to teach y’all some working class magic history and how we can apply that to Cybertronian spirituality:

Working Class History: Casting Spells on the Job (Just Call it Prayer so the Boss Doesn't Find Out)

Here's a quick history of rural Appalachian folk magic, for some context:

1) The Christian Bible has been used for spellcasting all up and down the rural East Coast in the USA from day one of colonisation.

In Pennsylvania you have Hexenmeisters and the Pennsylvania Dutch practices, for a well-documented example.

2) The working class has done spellcasting with the Bible from the very first day shitty bosses started

This is for several reasons, but primarily because Bibles were common and cheap, you didn't have to know how to read in order to follow along with or change the lyrics of popular hymns and prayers to fit your own needs, and it was very easy to sneak what is essentially localised witchcraft under the radar when it just looks like you're reading the Bible to everyone else.

Catholic materials were used a lot for this, because they were often provided for free by any local churches, and a lot of working class people in Appalachia were Italian (Roman Catholic) or Eastern European (Eastern Orthodox Catholic), which meant there was no shortage of all sorts of votive candles and the like to utilise for what we would now identify as spellcasting.

It's important to note that it wasn't called spellcasting outright by anybody; Sometimes it was called "hexing" or "sweet talking", among other terms, but if you called it spellcasting it was heavily frowned upon.

A lot of people were uncomfortable (and are still uncomfortable) with verbalising it or identifying it as such due to stigma from the more mainstream religious communities or their own religious backgrounds, and of course, historically if the boss found out that all the workers hated their jobs so much they were doing fucking witchcraft about it, it would not have ended well for the workers.

So, stealth it is. And that's why there are so many specific folk practices in a lot of historically working class rural regions/communities-- Not just in Appalachia, but similar things happen in similar communities around the world.

What does this have to do with Megatron?

Everything we know about the lower classes on Cybertron, the lower caste members, and the mines/industrial regions in Tarn and Kaon suggest that a similar folklore likely existed within these working communities.

And any local folk practices likely developed for the exact same reasons that this type of folk practice developed in the real world:

Workers are fucking miserable, "mainstream" religion isn't satisfying their spiritual/emotional/social/material needs or concerns, and close-knit people in small communities spending most of their time together naturally start to sort of do their own thing based on their collective situation.

People get desperate, there's nowhere to turn and nothing to do, so spirituality becomes a lifeline in that it builds solidarity and creates a more appropriate sort of support system.

For example: If we aren't allowed time off work to mourn our friend who was killed by heavy machinery, and we aren't allowed any time to process that or deal with it or take care of each other, then we will invent a ritual that allows us to grieve on the job.

This was, and still is, a common thing.

Which brings us to...

St. Barbara and the Mines + Solus Prime

St. Barbara's backstory can be summarised, roughly, as such (based on the version of this story that I know; keep in mind the details can vary):

She was kept isolated from others by her father, who became furious that she refused an arranged marriage. When she fled, he chased her; She ran into two people working in a field, the first who helped her, and the second who gave her path away to her father.

She was captured, and brought to a prominent local figure (the title varies based on different versions of this story), who had her tortured for escaping and disobeying her father.

However, when imprisoned, they tried to kill her again and again, and every morning she was healed. Fire intended to be used to burn her would cool the second it got near her skin, and daggers used to cut her would go dull when brought near her.

Snakes thrown into her room intended to bite her would then die the instant they went to approach her, and ropes intended to be used to bind and choke her would spontaneously fray and snap before they could be tied.

Eventually, she was condemned to beheading, and a special sword was used to cut her head off, which finally killed her.

Her father is the one who beheaded her, and as divine punishment, he was hit by lightning-- A single bolt that lasted so long that his entire body went up into flames, and his ashes disappeared.

Her gravesite became a place of veneration, where people prayed for protection and safety.

She became known as the patron saint of all people with dangerous jobs or jobs where the bosses don't care about the worker's wellbeing or safety, for obvious reasons: Nothing but the hands of her own father could ever harm her.

(The imagery of St. Barbara being slain only by a special sword is very reminiscent of Solus Prime being slain only by a special sword...)

Workers, especially those with particularly dangerous or shitty jobs but also just anyone working class in general, can interpret this story in several ways which can make it additionally relatable:

Her father = A controlling and aggressive boss who abuses or neglects their workers to death.

The field workers = A pro-union worker (a helper) and an anti-union worker or scab (a betrayer).

So you can see how St. Barbara became immediately adopted as a common worker's saint, and was used in a lot of regional working class folk magic practices (where such folk magic developed within local working communities).

And this is still going strong as a tradition; Crossrail tunnel borers in London consecrated the drilling site in the name of St. Barbara in 2013:

"Several hundred contractors and senior management attended the St Barbara's Day ceremony at the Thames Tunnel (pictured) which will link Plumstead and North Woolwich when completed. The site was so large, that sound engineers put in place an amplification system for the ceremony." - Article here.

"As a long-standing tradition, one of the first tasks for each new tunnelling projects is to establish a small shrine to Santa Barbara at the tunnel portal or at the underground junction into long tunnel headings. This is often followed with a dedication and an invocation to Santa Barbara for protection of all who work on the project during the construction period." - Article here.

And here's a related example of a worker's prayer for St. Barbara, from here:

So this is very much a tradition that is still going strong, and it isn't just Catholic workers who engage with these types of things!

To accommodate more diverse groups and communities of workers, folk practices (including what eventually becomes folk magic) increasingly develop even further away from any one specific religious origin, in order to become more inclusive for the majority of people who can be from all kinds of different spiritual or cultural backgrounds.

Hence, more folk magic is made-- And I believe something like this could absolutely have evolved in a similar way in working communities on Cybertron.

Cybertronian Spirituality: The Primes, The Knights, The Titans

My personal theory/headcanon, and there is not much in canon to support this particularly so please keep that in mind, is that given the average type of manual labour working environment in Tarn and Kaon (dangerous, dark, and deep), it would make sense for the legendary Titans to become worked into some kind of folk practice.

We have this concept of the Titans as these giant and very particular beings, which reminds me somewhat of the Jewish Golem of Prague, in that the Titans are made from raw materials in some kind of mystical or cosmically spiritual manner, then eventually ally themselves to at least one respective Prime who then acts as a director of their actions to achieve victory over cosmic evil(s).

The Titans then go forward and act as guardians of Cybertronian life by combating the origins of these cosmic evil(s) as protectors of their respective polities and regions and eventually colony worlds, called into action by what is essentially a metaphysical and possibly outright spiritual pull of the need of their Prime(s) and later on the needs of the Cybertronian and colony world populations in times of threat or desperation.

These details are peppered throughout canon and vary based on media/franchise, but most recently Titan lore was covered again in IDW’s Optimus Prime series, issue 10, literally titled Origin Myths.

What is interesting is that while the Golem association could be reasonably made, you could also reasonably say that the Three Original Titans (Metroplex, Chela, and Metrotitan) could be associated just as easily with the Catholic concept of the Holy Trinity.

Lots of different interpretations could be applied to this stuff!

Class Stratification Within Cybertronian Religious Institutions

No matter how you may interpret it, we know that the Titans have a similar mystical presence in Cybertronian history and cultural lore to that of the Primes and Knights, and it would make sense for those spurned and disparaged by "mainstream" spiritual practices (which were likely just as stratified by class and caste as everything else was on Cybertron during Megatron's youth) to go ahead and create a folk practice based more around Titans.

This is because the Primes would like be associated directly with their oppressive rulers and upper classes, and the Knights, who are said to be the first Cybertronians to come from the Well, thusly represent a very high class onto their own which may have repelled working class bots who were very likely sick of essentially worshipping those venerated in their class stratified society solely due to the conditions of their creation; The Knights were "born with silver spoons", essentially, and it's hard to sell that to people who suffered due to the conditions of their own creation.

Therefore, the Titans are the other most likely Cybertronian figures of historical lore that could reasonably be adapted into a sort of folk religion for the working classes and lower social caste bots.

The imagery is strong, and relatable: In Megatron's case, the manual labourers and miners all have large frames compared to the average Cybertronian, they all toil invisibly and in relative silence, and they are kept away from the end products of their labour and yet without them, Cybertron planet wide would instantly struggle to sustain their raw material demands.

They are critical workers, yet many of them have no names/designations; It is noted at least once in canon that some Titans are so old or so little known that their designations are not recorded. Yet without these unseen/unknown Titans, it could be the case that cosmic evil could have achieved victory.

While the Titans are critical, they are largely a mystery and unknown in any real detail. They do not normally engage with average Cybertronians, and when they do, it is usually indirectly-- Even though their actions actively impact the lives of nearly everyone.

And though the Primes and Knights are generally never physically present, at least not within living memory, there is real and physical proof of Titans. I feel like that aspect alone may well appeal more to people who are very physically oriented; We also see a stark realist mentality from many of the lower class/caste bots, who are sometimes realistic to the point of nihilism (which is part of why Megatron's writings were so revolutionary, in that they re-introduced hope to people who had previously concluded that there was no realistic possibility of ever rising up).

The Titans being a known, tangible physical reality may well have endeared them as a more interesting folkloric or spiritual focus to this particular cohort of bots.

Just like with St. Barbara in real life, you can see how the Titans may have been interpreted in certain ways by the lower class/caste working bots which may have made them more appealing or more easy to structure into a framework of sorts for their own practices within their local cultures.

A Little Meta: There's a Lot of Various Religious Imagery in Transformers

Like with all media, especially Western media, inevitably some Jesus sneaks in there.

Which usually sucks, because it can be alienating for literally anyone who isn't familiar with Christianity in some way (as some references or parallels are inevitably not going to be as obvious or even detectable at all to people who didn't grow up with all this sometimes very specific shit, resulting in missed thematic elements and so on due to no fault of the viewers but rather the tendency for Western shows to overwhelmingly be written and designed by primarily Western white middle aged cis straight men who tend to throw some Jesus in there when there should not necessarily be any Jesus in there, but I could yell about this all night).

Transformers as a franchise altogether is not immune to this; As with all media, it is made by people, and people are influenced by their social/cultural upbringing, and that includes religious influences.

We could read some of this into the TFP/Aligned Continuity, in regards to the idea of the Thirteen Primes and how that concept is interpreted in TFP.

Transformers Prime: Alpha Trion is Essentially Paul the Apostle

The TFP Primes resemble both the Apostles as well as various Saints, and especially the Fourteen Holy Helpers; These fourteen Saints in particular are elevated above the others in many cases and contexts-- Similar to how the Primes are held up as elevated over other Cybertronians and other figures in Cybertronian history and presumably within certain Cybertronian spiritual practices as well.

For example, Alpha Trion is strongly reminiscent of the Christian figure Paul the Apostle, who was a writer/scribe known for documenting early Christian concerns of faith in his letters, which became extremely important to theological historians in regards to determining early Christian discourse and attempting to create a timeline of early Christianity.

His letters are included the New Testament in thirteen (!) sections called epistles, which are archived forever in various iterations within the Christian Bible.

Now, let’s take a look at the symbolism, using the TFP main illustration of Alpha Trion as featured in the Covenant, and a popular Icon image of Paul the Apostle:

Beard, cloak, book-- Even the pose they are in here is very similar, look at the feet and the way they are both standing. Even the halo of Cybertronian glyphs around Alpha Trion’s head resembles the gold filament of Paul’s halo.

And much like Alpha Trion's questionable ability to write/re-write history and determine events through some kind of cosmically divine power of foresight, the timeline of Paul's letters will likely never be fully verifiable, and of course, there are so many translations and interpretations of these letters along with the rest of the New Testament that while key points remain fairly consistent, there is still no "true" version or exact outline of events or discussions as recorded by Paul-- Primarily because in at least a few cases, Paul's letters are the only allusion to certain events or conversations.

This is extremely similar to how Alpha Trion states outright in the Covenant that he himself doesn't know if what he writes is actually factual anymore, or if he has changed things so many times to try to construct a more favourable narrative of actions and events that reality itself may have been warped by his Quill, either forwards or backwards in time...

You could also argue that Alpha Trion is presented as a God-like figure in TFP (especially when he appears to Optimus in the form of an echoing voice and shimmering spectral figure in a vision caused by what is essentially the equivalent of a holy relic), and Orion Pax would then be comparable to Jesus pre-Crucifixion, with his reformatting into Optimus Prime post-Matrix heavily resembling Jesus in the eyes of his followers post-Resurrection.

The main cast of Autobots in this comparison would then roughly correspond to the Apostles, of whom there were twelve, with Optimus then making Thirteen... And of course, canonically, Optimus is the resurrection of the Thirteenth Prime.

You can also see visual similarities in the depiction of Thirteen in the Covenant; It reminds me heavily of the Divine Mercy image of Jesus:

Both have their right hands raised, their chests emitting a holy/cosmic light.

I'm just saying, it is totally possible to make connections between fictional lore/spiritual figures and real world ones, and TF is loaded with content that can be re-contextualised in this way.

(I also want to point out at this time that it is not my intention to offend anyone with any of this analysis; I am writing from the point of view of someone who grew up with folk spirituality, and I am also a Quaker Attender, just so you are aware of my own personal background. I would love to hear any other interpretations of any spiritual imagery in Transformers media, because there’s a ton of possible ways to read into this stuff!)

In Conclusion: Cast a Hex on Your Boss by Calling Upon the Titans

Just for fun, as someone who has actually done folk magic for my entire life, I've adapted a hex against bad bosses to fit this headcanon. I think this is something that lower class/caste bots would absolutely engage in; It's common in real life as well.

The original I'm basing this off of was actually something I found in one of our old family Bibles before I moved out, and was written in Girard, Pennsylvania sometime between 1920-1930. I believe it was written by a relative of mine who worked either on the farm or on the railways.

Remember that folk magic like this is for and by working class people, so there are no fancy supplies needed; Don't ever buy shit to do magic, you can do it with anything laying around you. No need to spend money.

If you have a shitty boss, please let me know if you hex your boss with this. I always encourage witchcraft, fictional or otherwise.

Here's what you do, if you want to actually try this:

1) Using any old paper that you have lying around, cut it roughly into a square (doesn't need to be perfect.) It doesn't matter what type of paper it is.

2) Grab any pen you like, it can be any type of pen, any type of ink.

3) Draw a square outline on the paper, making a border on the page. This can be big or small as you like, and you can decorate it if you want; Just leave enough space to write inside the square.

4) Fold this paper into a square, any way you'd like as long as it's a square, and take this paper while it's still blank to work in your pocket.

Carry the paper with you for at least one full day at work. If you can, place it in a chest pocket or a pocket where the paper will be fairly close to your body.

It doesn't matter if the paper gets dirty or smudged or torn; In fact, that's even better.

(Some people who do variations of this spell in real life even use the paper to wipe dirt off their hands etc. throughout the day, to really get the energy of a work day settled into the paper. As long as it can still be written on, you can do this if you'd like.)

5) At the end of the work day, take the paper out, and write the following:

Where I have put [X], the word "Lord" was in the original version of this hex which was in my family Bible, but to contextualise it within the fictional headcanon lore here, you can replace this with the word "Titan". (Or you can replace it with anything else that may be appropriate as well, if you would like to actually use this hex!)

"Give us pay for our work, or the poor will plea to the [X] against you, and you will be struck down, cast down.

If you do not give to those who give to you, you will be cursed coming in, and going out.

Just as the [X] can raise you up and lead you to prosper, so too can the [X] turn away from you, and you will be left to have your walls destroyed, your fortress ruined.

Us servants will rejoice, but you will cry out in anguish, you will be put to shame.

Without the toilers, the land is made desolate, the haunt of jackals.

[X], turn your gaze to us, we labourers of all kinds, see our tears and our sweat.

Lay curses upon those who use their hands to hold us down; Kept below water, our tears lost in the flood.

Raise the waters, and surge the shores of their ill-owned kingdom; Bring forth to their memory that the [X] stewards the land, and that all among the land are equal in spirit.

The [X] will cast fury upon the unrighteous and conniving, cast rage and stand among us mightily, each motion casting winds against the oppressor who weakens like fractured stone under the onslaught of rain.

The [X] will make a storm from our anguish, which brings us higher, raises us from desolation. Our tears, become the rain that withers the false tower looming high above us.

Our hands will raise from our tools and duties, and offer high praise to the [X], who guards the disparaged and lowly, who enacts justice against those who have done wrong against us.

Let us be brought high, and those who revel in our struggle, may they be cast down."

6) You may flip the paper over once the ink is dry, and on the back, put three Xs in the upper corners of the paper. You may also add three more XXXs to the centre of the paper, where the crease in the paper is from folding it.

7) Re-fold the paper, and put it in the bottom of your right shoe. If this is too uncomfortable, carry it in any pocket on your right side.

You can also place it in your wallet for safe keeping, as your wallet contains money and possibly a work ID or something similar, which are all tied to work and working.

And there you have it! Fuck shitty bosses, both fictional ones and real ones. Join a union, do some witchcraft.

This post was long as always, but I hope it's interesting to someone out there! <3 Thank you to anyone who actually reads through all of this! <3

#megatron #transformers #tfp #transformers prime #alpha trion #transformers meta #transformers analysis #long post #idw transformers #idw 1 #miner megatron #young megatron #maccadam #tw religion #working class history #witchcraft #spellcasting #hexing #solus prime

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photobombingcryptid · 3 years

Note

About [TARN]

It's complicated.

Part of me feels like I met Tarn, way before, way long in the past. Back before the 'Bots and 'Cons and the war, when we were doing the best to live our lives under the Functionalistic rule.

The sense of familiarity is uncanny despite his fanatism he holds for the Decepticons. He gives the word delusion a whole new meaning in the dictionary.

That said our paths have crossed several times. I would befriend a bunch of Decepticon stragglers, scavengers, deserters - types of people who'd become sick of fighting. Sometimes a rogue Autobot or two joined these groups of survivors, usually occupying long forgotten military bases of either faction. Rendered into a makeshift home, it was one of the few places where they could feel safe.

You know what happens when you desert? The Autobots would have imprisoned you and put you on the chopping block in the front lines given the opportunity. Kind of a proof yourself deal. The Decepticons had to think twice about defecting, all because of Tarn; if you turn your back against your own faction, you are dead to him. No redemption, no second chances. It's an excuse for Tarn and his sadistic friends to put you through hours of torture before your inevitable end. It proved to be a fairly efficient deterrent to stop potential renegades from leaving the 'Con cause.

So yea. It always happened while I was out. I had visited the base, dropped off some supplies for them purely out of charity, had a few drinks with them and left. Merely an hour or two later I'd find the base annihilated. Bodies and energon everywhere, some mechs melted together by Helex (I still remember their faces); torn to unrecognizable shreds of metal by Tesarus; the bodies which remained somewhat intact had their T-Cogs all stripped away.

Such... Spectacles happened more than once. Always stumbled upon the aftermath, after the DJD had done their job. But one time I happened to catch them in the act - well, more like once the whole business was done. Soaked in energon, everyone was too giddy and they were boarding their ship... Peaceful Tyranny, was it? As for me, I was watching them from afar, so I was luckily safe from harm. I am not sure if anyone noticed me there, but I feel like Tarn saw me. Probably didn't think much of me, seeing I am still much very alive. Or he didn't care.

It makes me wonder what the outcome would have been if I had been among his victims. Would he have left me alone or killed me? The answer should be obvious.

#ic #asks #whoops this got long #anonymous

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limited-practice · 4 years

Text

Mutual Bonding Through Salt

Just a quick thing I wrote that started off with talking about Sunder infiltrating the DJD, which led to the possibility of Tarn's voice killing ability being blocked, which brought in Hubcap, which led to him bonding with Nickel because the DJD and Wreckers are big idiots and they just get so weary dealing with them at times.

(Sunder isn't in this one - undercover mnemosurgeon in the DJD is another fic for another time)

3311 words of Nickel and Hubcap nonsense are under the cut.

“If you eat the salt that’s around the rim of your glass, it will put you in the medibay for a week. Possibly a month. Possibly two months.”

Hubcap froze, and the salt rimmed glass that was just about to touch his lips didn’t make contact. But only just. He slowly lowered his glass. And as he did so, more and more of Nickel’s deeply unimpressed face was revealed.

“I’m telling you this not because I care about your well being, Autobot,” she said, “But because I’m the one who’ll have to waste time treating you. The medibay on my ship is light years more advanced than yours, and since Tarn’s ordered us not to kill any of you or allow anyone to succumb to an unfortunate series of unpreventable accidents, I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Hubcap glanced around. They were sitting at the bar of a backstreet establishment in a run down town on a grimy planet hollowed out from the fallout of their civil war. In a desperate attempt to scratch out a living, the surviving inhabitants had made it clear they welcomed all races and factions. Organic, mechanical, neutral, Decepticon, Autobot, undecided, renounced, it didn’t matter. Your legally and illegally acquired money was most welcome here.

His eyes hovered over a large mass of shapes in the corner behind them. The Wreckers and the DJD were deep in discussions about a ‘business opportunity’ that had recently prevented itself. He was one hundred percent convinced it was illegal and one hundred percent convinced that it would somehow end terribly for him. Hence the need to drink as soon as possible.

Hubcap carefully rotated the glass, causing the thick neon yellow liquid inside to spin slowly. The electric blue umbrella in it bobbed happily. “That - ha! - doesn’t seem likely? It’s part of what makes this cocktail a cocktail? Look, it’s in the menu. On the menu I mean. The menu with all seven drinks listed?”

Nickel looked at Hubcap like he was the most pointless robot in the world. “Do you even know what you ordered?”

Hubcap glanced down at the plastic coated menu that was on the bar counter. He put a finger underneath the name of the drink he'd ordered. The plastic was warm and sticky.

“Pleasant Painkiller,’” he read out loud. “‘Cure what ails you with this tropical blend of high grade energon, creamy energon extract and refreshing crushed salt garnish. Chase down the tears and blood and cranial fluids of that filthy traitor with this indulgent signature creation that’s guaranteed to leave your fuel tank thrumming with-’” Hubcap’s eyes widened. “I don’t- What? What? I don’t remember reading that. That wasn’t there when I read it before ordering.”

“Yes it was.” Nickel’s voice was flat. “That’s a DJD drink you ordered. Was the large purple badge and screaming victim next to it not clear enough?”

“I don’t- are you sure? I don't think that I...?” Hubcap peered closely at the menu. The Pleasant Painkiller was listed under the Mechanical-Cybertronian-Decepticon category. He squinted to make out the small print next to his cocktail’s name: ‘DJD Speciality! Only the best of the worst can handle this!’

Hubcap’s secondary cooling fan clicked on. He slowly slid the menu away with his fingertip as far as his arm would stretch. He lifted his finger up and the menu stuck to it. “I mean- why?” he asked, waving his hand to shake the menu off of it.

"Why can't you read?" Nickel supplied. "Beats me."

"No, that's-" he shook his hand harder, worried that he’d somehow cursed himself and the menu was going to stick to him forever.

"That drink isn't going to kill you," Nickel said witheringly, as she watched the menu finally break free of his finger and float down behind the bar. "We're not in the habit of poisoning each other. But that salt will poison you. I know its composition and I know your frame type and processing specs. You can't digest it. You’re too weak. Too puny.”

“That’s not-” Hubcap said, heating up. “That was uncalled for. I can’t help that I was born with this frame. Why did you have to focus on that? Why are you being mean?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did I just say puny? I meant that you’re puny and piss annoying.”

“...I’m just...trying to have a drink here.”

“You’re trying my patience, that’s what you’re doing. Wipe that salt off now, and then you can have that drink you don’t deserve.” Without waiting for a response, Nickel shot out a hand.

Hubcap snatched the glass back just as her fingertips touched it, and cradled it protectively against his chest. He held it somewhat sullenly.

Nickel pointed one of her fingertips at him. “You’re going to lick that salt off just to spite me, I know you are. I know your type.”

She sat back on her stool and picked up her own drink with a casualness that wasn’t faked. “And when we’re back on my ship and you come crawling into the medibay holding your stomach and complaining that your teeth feel like they’re melting, I’m going to ignore you. And if you don’t drag yourself back out, I’ll ask Tess to do it for me.”

Hubcap looked at her. This time there was a thread of steel in his voice when he spoke. “My frame has survived more than you could imagine.”

Nickel widened her eyes as far as they’d go. “Oh gosh really? Let me just- let me just topple off my seat in awe and wonder here. You’re telling me that you experienced physical and emotional pain and suffering during millions of years of war but still survived? Wow. Just- wow.”

Hubcap squeezed his glass tighter, and hoped he wasn’t blushing too hard. “I...ha, I know I’m not that special. I’m not special at all. I’ve been told I’m not special my entire life. If people notice me in the first place that is.”

“I,” Nickel said slowly, “Have prised things out of Helex’s mouth that gave me nightmares. I’ve scrubbed off encrusted liquids that release a vapour known to melt steel. But never - never in all my years as the Peaceful Tyranny’s Chief and Only Medical Officer - have I ever had a stomach ache. Until I met you. Until I listened to what you just said. Your pity party of one is making me queasy Hubcap.” She put a hand on her stomach and held her drink out towards his. “I feel my delicious drink churning. You’re ruining this for me.”

Several different emotions rolled across Hubcap’s face, before it settled on uneasy irritation. “It’s not easy to get people to pay attention to you. And it’s even more difficult to get them to notice the good things you do, let alone appreciate you. Not when you’re so small. Not when you’re so weak. You of all people should know that.”

Nickel slowly put her glass back down on the counter. It hit the metal with a sharp clink. She stood up and rolled forward to where Hubcap was sitting. He leaned back as she glared up at him.

“Of course I know that. I’ve always known that. And do you know what I do? Do you know what I do when they’re all ignoring me and refuse to come in for their check-ups?”

“Go crying to Tarn?”

Nickel shot out a hand and sunk her fingers into Hubcaps neck cables. She yanked his head forward until their noses were almost touching.

“I get up in their faces,” she whispered to him. “I force them to pay attention to me. I don’t ever accept them saying ‘no.’ I make myself known. Because that’s what people of our size have to do. We have to DO something. Skulking around underfoot the big bots isn’t going to get you noticed. It’s going to get you stepped on. You want your Wrecker friends to notice you? To appreciate you? Then you get up into their smarmy faces and don’t. Back. Down.”

Nickel put her hand on his forehead and pushed him away. Hubcap wobbled on his stool but kept his balance. His drink sloshed onto his lap. His face showed all kinds of alarm.

“Um...OK?”

Nickel sat back on her stool. She waved a dismissive hand at him that said ‘Yeah, sure you will. I know your type, and I know you won’t.”

There was a swell of loud voices from the corner followed by one, two, three glasses smashing into something. The voices got rougher and louder.

Hubcap shook his head. The only reason he’d been brought along to this business meeting on neutral territory was to use his Outlier ability to block Tarn’s voice from killing them all. He’d weakly told Springer that he could project a signal block from Debris and that someone should stay behind to keep the ship in secure orbit around the planet. But Springer had betrayed him by asking him a sensible question that he felt compelled to answer honestly. No, Hubcap had told him - my signal block wouldn’t be just as effective from Debris as it would be if I was in the same room as him. It would be zero point zero zero five percent less effective. Springer had looked at him kindly, and told him it would do him good to get off the ship and have some shore leave. Have a drink and relax while they took care of business. He could look after himself when- if, if - things got rough. He knew which way to point a gun didn’t he?

“I’m keeping the drink,” Hubcap said. “I paid for it and I’m keeping it.”

Nickel looked up at him from her drink. “Are you doing this just to keep the tiny umbrella that came with it?”

“...what?”

Nickel nodded her head towards his drink. “You’re being careful that it doesn’t touch the killer salt barrier. You care about it.”

“It’s a cheap plastic novelty umbrella.”

“Then give it to me.”

Hubcap looked down at the tiny umbrella floating in its yellow cocktail sea. He plucked it out and gently engulfed it in his hand “...no.”

Nickel rolled her eyes skywards. “Primus spare me.”

“HOW MUCH??” An incredulous voice roared. The other patrons of the bar froze.

“SAY THAT TO ME AGAIN AND I’LL RIP YOUR EYES OUT WITH MY TEETH.”

Some customers started whimpering.

“I’LL BLEND THEM INTO A NEW COCKTAIL FOR YOU TO DRINK.”

Some customers slowly slid onto the floor and began to crawl towards an exit.

“I’LL MAKE THE REST OF YOUR TEAM TAKE TURNS HOLDING THE GLASS UP TO YOUR LIPS.”

Some customers closed their eyes and prepared for the end.

Hubcap and Nickel casually glanced over at who was bellowing threats and who was receiving them.

Nickel tutted. “Why did he say that? That’s a back-up threat, not an initial salvo. We practised this. I wrote it down for him.”

“FEED ME MY EYES AND I’LL SPIT THEM IN YOUR FACE AND BLIND YOU SO THAT YOU’RE THE ONE WITH NO EYES.”

Hubcap winced in embarrassment. “He always says that. Always. And no-one takes him seriously. Why would they?”

“YOU’RE A LIAR!”

“NO YOU’RE THE LIAR!”

“I’LL FIGHT YOU!”

“NOT IF I FIGHT YOU FIRST!”

Something breakable smashed into someone’s head, a giant fist connected with a face, the DJD snarled and the Wreckers roared.

A fight erupted.

Hubcap and Nickel locked eyes. They shared a flat and weary look that said “Do you see the kind of shit I have to put up with every day?” It was a perfect moment of mutual understanding.

The fight intensified.

Nickel sighed. “It will take me hours to clean them up. They don’t bother with basic maintenance at the best of times, and these injuries won’t be quick to fix. They don’t listen to me. And I keep telling them not to fight when there are witnesses around, but they don’t listen to me.”

Hubcap watched tables, chairs, glasses and framed objects get torn down and used as weapons. He sighed as well. “That will all have to be accounted for. All that stuff they’re ruining. I’ll have to draw up a detailed inventory, calculate their value, source replacements, and spend days carefully filling out a hundred different forms to prevent us from getting imprisoned due to a grammar mistake a sharp eyed lawyer will pick up on when the bar owner inevitably works up the courage to sue us.”

A circular table rolled past them on its rim. It left a track of dark energon in its wake.

“Tarn would appreciate you,” Nickel blurted out. “He loves competent administrators.”

“My entire team would appreciate you,” Hubcap said. “We don’t have a medic. We have Impactor and his drill hand.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

The fight climbed up a gear. It got louder. It got more dangerous.

Nickel shook her head. “If I don’t put an end to this soon we’ll never get that deal signed, and then we’ll be stuck orbiting this armpit of a planet until they regain consciousness. The medical machines drain our power supply when they go at it like this. They suck it nearly dry. And the upkeep needed to ensure they’re in constant working order, that’s never ending.” She shook her head again.

“We had Springer on life support for years,” Hubcap said. “And do you think anyone undertook routine maintenance on it or sourced replacement parts or kept detailed records of his vital signs and regularly cross checked them with all known injury outcomes on file?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that only you did all of that. I feel that pain.”

“It’s a pain like no other.”

“You got that right.” Nickel put both hands on the bar counter and prepared to heave herself up onto it.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Hubcap asked in alarm. “Don’t make yourself an accidental target. Their aim is terrible.”

“Someone has to put an end to this,” Nickel said in a tight voice. “And as usual, it’s down to me.”

Hubcap put a hand on her shoulder. And snatched it back when she glared at him. “Sorry, I just- I mean you don’t have to do it. This time. I can.”

“You can put an end to this?”

“In less time than it takes for you to finish your drink.”

Nickel looked at him for a second. And then lowered herself back down onto her stool. “OK then - show me what you’ve got.”

“I, ah, need your auditory frequency codes. Primary, secondary and tertiary. All of you. I’ve got the Wreckers on file. And myself. Obviously. But not- not yours. Not your team’s.”

“Why do you need to know the frequencies we hear sound at?”

A whump of fire shot towards the ceiling. Chunks of metal rained down. A special ops ghost gun was primed with a chunk-chunk-krik.

“So that I can stop all of this.” Hubcap stretched out an arm to encompass the room. And withdrew it immediately as pieces of broken ghost gun flew towards it.

Nickel paused, weighing up the risk of trusting him against the extra work this fight would give her. She gave the frequencies to him.

“What are you going to use them for?” she asked.

“I’m going to use them to break that up.”

There was a ROAR and a clash of titanic metal upon colossal metal as the fight burst wide open and the bar’s fire, invasion, and panic alarms all tripped simultaneously with a whoop-whoop-whoop.

“How?” Nickel yelled, covering her head and ducking as a jagged disc flew over it.

She couldn’t hear what Hubcap said over the roar of noise in the bar, but she could read his lips. “Like this.”

Hubcap’s entire body shivered. An unnatural bright light entered his eyes. He tilted his head, gripped the tiny umbrella harder, and unleashed a split branch sub-atomic frequency wave that wouldn’t be identified and classified by science for another three million years.

The DJD and the Wreckers simultaneously slammed their hands over their ears and collapsed to the ground howling.

Hubcap tilted his head the other way. The screeching trio of alarms were silenced.

“Not bad,” Nickel said approvingly. “Not bad at all.”

“It’s just a basic frequency,” Hubcap shrugged. “Just a modification of one I’ve used on them before.” He straightened his head. His eyes dimmed back to normal.

“Yeah but…” Nickel looked around. Everyone was laying still and silent on the ground and taking stock of what had just happened. Impactor jumped to his feet and tried to yell out in anger but immediately collapsed again. He whimpered pathetically. Kaon carefully stood up and made every effort to stay still and silent. He held his arms out for balance. He stayed on his feet.

“That’s not just not bad. That’s amazing. You’re an Outlier, aren’t you?”

“No. Yes. I mean- Well. It’s just- it’s just something I can do. It’s easy. I don’t have to think about it too much. It just comes to me.” Hubcap said this simply, without a hint of fishing for praise. “The frequency wave boosters won’t break down until everyone’s on their respective ships. Which will give me enough time to barricade myself into my office and beam a detailed memo to each of them explaining what I did and why I did it.”

“And it will give me enough time to prep the medibay and get my tools laid out. I’m going to sharpen all of them. And explain in detail how I’m going to use them. And then I’m going to write up reports on everyone. Even Tarn. They’ll be so dreadful that Tarn won’t have any choice but to put everyone on Corrective Action Plans that will last for months. Including himself.”

“Ping me if you want any help with the wording. I’ve got a lifetime’s experience writing those.”

“Thanks. And- thanks. For doing what you did.”

Hubcap rolled the umbrella between his fingers and nodded. “Any time. Except I hope it won’t be any time soon. Or any time again. But eventually it will be. You know, time.”

“It is time for us to leave.” Tarn’s voice ate through the air like a virus.

“Yeah, let’s move it.” Springer jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at an exit. “Get back to Debris, sort yourselves out, and prepare to leave for the Peaceful Tyranny in two hours. We’ve still got business to attend to.”

The huge mass of the DJD and the Wreckers divided itself into two. Everyone moved slowly and carefully and quietly to one of the two exits.

Hubcap and Nickel slid off their bar stools.

“And- thanks for not including me in your silent take down,” Nickel said.

“You weren’t part of the fight. You weren’t a threat. I mean you’re obviously still a threat, but- but you didn’t need that. You didn’t deserve that.”

“But it would have been the perfect opportunity to take revenge on me,” Nickel persisted.

Hubcap smiled faintly. “Nothing good comes out of wanting that. Believe me. It will eat you up and destroy you.”

“Spoken like a true Autobot.”

“Ha! I’m not one of them. Not really.”

“...ever thought of becoming a Con?”

“...yes. But they aren’t for me either.”

“You’re yourself.” Nickel nodded. “I get that. And now I get you.”

Hubcap reached over and carefully placed the mini umbrella in her drink. It was wrinkled and bent but not broken. “No you don’t. Not really.” He hesitated. “Not yet.”

Nickel looked down into her drink. “I’ll give you a check-up when you come over in a couple of hours,” she offered. “If anyone’s put a dent in you, I’ll deal with them personally.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

They left the bar without looking back.

#nickel #hubcap #djd #wreckers #transformers #nickel is fierce and I love her #hubcap can only dream of having her level of compacted fierceness #he doesn't have the personality for it #but he has other enviable qualities #my writing #fun #comedy #not serious #stress mood during stressful times = emotional writing or dumb comedy #this writing is the latter #this was a lot of fun to write #in the bar of bad things

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hypnosiacon-archived · 2 years

Text

Me: naah idk if we are a system naah

Tarn: *Has opinions that are somewhat different from mine, especially in his way of dealing with them* are you... Serious?

Me: weird

#🌀 scanning deep and low for traces of life : talking #I don't question that though #what I do question is whenever or now we are median or not lmao #🌀 iacon;

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tfwhynoy · 5 years

Note

K, this might be a bit different from your normal asks, but do you have any headcanons for the cybertronians cities? Specifically main and tarn, like the culture, body language and language in general, and stuff like that?

I don’t know how good these are since I’m not the most familiar with the cities myself but I’ll try my best. If anyone has any other thoughts or wants to discuss this with me I’d love too. Also, I couldn’t find anything on the city main so I couldn’t do anything for it, sorry.

While, for the most part, cybertronians mostly speak one language, culture can still vary from town to town. you’ll get slightly different slang, pronunciation, demeanor, stuff like that. It’s hard to notice, especially after the war, but everyone once and a while you’ll find a cybertronian who is lowkey the embodiment of the town they lived in.

Residents of Tarn tend to be somewhat stubborn and quietly passionate about the things they believe to be important. They’re wary of outsiders and tend to be loners, valuing self-sufficiency a great deal.

Bots from Vos is more likely to try and stand back and let things settle themselves out, only really interfering in smaller ways to try and turn things in their favor. I think of them kinda like an opossum, they’ll fake and lie to try and get away but if that fails you’ll find they are quite viscous and will fight using anything at their disposal to tear you down.

Some bots from Vos and Tarn still hold a grudge for what one city to the other. They tend to be the history buffs of the group. Put such bots from each town in a room and they’ll fight till their vocalizers break, and even then they may resort to their fists.

It’s hard for bots of Iacon not to be a bit proud. It’s a huge city and the heart of the Autobot territory, has the Great Dome and Spires, the Matrix Flame, Imperial Amphitheatre, I could go on but you get the point. Along with being a little too prideful many from Iacon may start with the neutrality viewpoint, avoiding conflict but helping those who got hurt by it. Once they finally join a side though they are passionate defenders and are likely to be loyal to the end.

Younger bots from Iacon are more idealistic, sometimes spouting philosophy they don’t fully understand to support their views. Much to the annoyance to the older members of Iacon

I figure for now that’ll be good. There are still some cities I left out but I’m already unsure of how good these are. If anyone wants more than feel free to request more though!

#mtmte #more than meets the eye #idk how to tag this rip

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transingthoseformers · 2 years

Text

So I'm vividly reminded of the "What if there was a character who wanted to be [faction] but was barred from joining [faction]" post, and tfp au Tarn is somewhat close to being this.

They wouldn't have let him join the Decepticons if he hadn't pleaded and begged enough. And, nobody will ever admit it, even the commanders are scared of him. Tarn has just been so loyal (well loyal up until this point) that they were willing to overlook the immense security risk his Voice was and the rancid vibes. In the TFP au, he came to the Decepticons preinstalled with the DJD, but in this au the DJD had existed before Tarn has, and they kinda just found him in the space woods like a coyote mistaken for a dog.

TFP au Tarn has a much different backstory and origin than what you'd expect. Damus was someone who originally was turned away from the Decepticons , whether it was for a lack of generalistic experience, bad luck, having failed some sort of entrance test (i severely doubt they'd have like a written test, that's not what i mean, I'm thinking some sort of small quest), or hell the Bad Vibes™️ that Soundwave had received but could never put a digit. (Nobody could've guessed Tarn had been Damus, hell nobody knows until the Tarn and Fallen fiasko when he blurts it in a monologue.)

He did not take this rejection. I cannot tell you for sure when Damus became a more recognizable shape, what he had done before fully becoming Tarn, but I can tell you how he was found.

The DJD was a project proposed by Shockwave, one that Megatron has always disliked. It ultimately functioned similar to the Wreckers in the Autobots— do the dirty work that not even Megatron wants to do, and he'll turn a blind eye to their methods. One of the conditions he agreed upon was that they stay away from the frontlines, as they are pretty much the clean up crew for those who have become disillusioned to the Cause. Originally, the ship's crew was the leader Kaon, Tesarus, Helex, Vos, and Prion (their medic, who looks a little familiar...)

They found Damus on a small moon circling a dead planet that had never developed complex life. He was thought to be a mercenary, but no he denied this. The DJD decided that hey this guy who wants to be a Decepticon should be a Decepticon! And dragged him with them. This is when he took upon the name Tarn (the symbolic meaning here in the tfp au is unknown as of yet) There is a possibility that his Voice had influenced this without their knowledge, as exactly nobody had guessed that as a possibility. Though, the DJD soon learned during the brutal disposal of a rogue exactly what Tarn is capable with this "gift". (Remember, in the TFP au outliers do exist but exactly nobody has really discovered this fact. Sometimes mecha pop up with inexplicable abilities and it always freaks everyone else the hell out) At first, they were struck with that instinctive oh-frag feeling, but this faded with the delight of them having a new method in their already rather unconventional repertoire.

Things were... special the next time the Peaceful Tyranny crossed paths with the Nemesis. Megatron was very suspicious of this Tarn, (actually in a very similar way as he was in canon of Predaking once the mech revealed his bipedal mod). But, eventually, he okayed the new addition as he wasn't going to question the DJD's methods. He didn't want to think too hard about what they do, only that they completed the job out of sight. Megatron couldn't afford to lose any more sleep than he already is over this.

Did Megatron call the DJD down to Earth? No, Tarn had tracked Pharma's signal and was delighted to find out his Lord is also on this blue and green planet. If I remember my timelines correctly, they arrived in the smack dab middle of the spicy battlefield dance arc. Meaning, the commanders already had so goddamn much to deal with that they agreed "fuck it, let them do whatever they're here to do, let them take care of the traitors wandering about so we don't have to". The DJD was explicitly told to not interfere with the war efforts, the autobots, or the ongoings of the Nemesis. (Probably in much longer polite and formal words than my synopsis of it)

For a long time, Tarn was considered in a similar manner as he was in canon. A dangerous weapon, but a currently manageable and loyal weapon. Some would say Tarn's loyalty to the Cause and Megatron rivals Soundwave's, others dare to admit that there has to be a catch. That nobody is that loyal without some sort of catch. Especially if that someone enjoys working with the fragging DJD, which among most Decepticons is practically a myth because of how infrequently the Peaceful Tyranny is sighted.

The events of Delphi are very similar as in the au, upon one divergence— nobody finds them. Every autobot except Pharma eventually succumbs to the Red Rust (or the DJD, in Ambulon's case) and Pharma has to find his way off planet. Eventually, he makes his way to Earth.

The rest of the DJD, as we know, was entirely content with these orders and did their own horrific murder thing. Tarn, though? Oh we knew he ultimately basically ignored this and turned his efforts to win his Lord with his winning personality (a lie), pure loyalty (a lie), and charming good looks (kind of a lie but kinda not)— and to find out where that autobot jet had went.

He started seeing the messages from Megatronus Prime a mere fortnight since he arrived on Earth. The Fallen had a reverse sort of reaction to Tarn, at first only seeing him as an easy to manipulate means to an end. After all, once the Fallen got out and destroyed Earth, what would this pathetic sycophant matter? But, as they started interacting more the Fallen ended up letting more and more of his guard down to this mortal. Tarn will not end up betraying Megatronus Prime, even as the reverse happens. This demigod encouraged the wrong mech.

Tarn will not visually see Pharma until further into the truce, pretty damn close in time with when he learns about Silverlight. And well... I've talked about what comes next.

#tfp au #tf tarn #transformers #maccadam #i do admit i 100% set him up to be a nice guy #this au's joints are oiled with projection and i just couldn't resist the idea of tfp Megatron absolutely hating the idea of tarn #in canon tfp Megatron shows some degree of honor even of it involves fighting dirty #guy has limits #Tarn however has no limits #tfp Tarn lore drop!

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eloquent-music · 4 years

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💬

Send a ‘💬’ to catch a glimpse of a memory my muse has.

[ Memory Log 121793 - Initiating... ]

There was a gestalt team that had to be reprimanded. Not on the List but put up on another list of sorts as an extremely dangerous group. Something tha an early version DJD had to deal with.

The original crew that everyone knew today was not the same, except for Tarn. Tarn was the only original member still standing. The only one from the start. The only given reason was that his abilities were able to help overcome most Cybertronians except a given few. Six life forms popped up on the Tyranny’s radar. Was he nervous? Big possibility. Banzaitron’s explanations of the gestalt group were rather horrifying but he couldn’t say no to Megatron. Though he had a lot of doubts most of the time, his doubts were smoothed over by Megatron’s reassuring words.

The Tyranny had landed on the planet the gestalt group was hiding on. “I know they’re an ill omen team but we will bring them to their knees,” stating as he moved himself from his spot. “Let’s go.” His digit made a circular motion in the air. For everyone but Tarn, it would be the last time they’d see the very walls of this starship again. “We’ve studied them. They may outnumber us by one but we’re the fuckin’ DJD for cryin’ out loud. The Decepticon Secret Service might not have taken them down but we will. Branded as heroes to all.” Not just to the Decepticons but he was sure that the Autobots would’ve been just as grateful to see this god awful gruesome gestalt team dead.

The gestalt team he was speaking of was the Monstructor Six. Tarn wasn’t looking forward to it but his team seemed more than willing to back him up.

And it was just about to go very badly for them.

. . . [ The memory skips, showing little blips of the fight between the DJD and Monstructor ] . . .

One needed to make the gestalt team not be one in order to defeat them and with all of their efforts, it wasn’t much use. Though his abilities were great, there was a select few they didn’t exactly work on. And there was something about the Monstructor Six that was just ungodly.

However, they were well aware of Tarn’s reputation which is why they were targeting Tarn over the other members first. It was easier to take out the leader and leave the rest to scramble. Little did they know with how Tarn was forged proved that he was very much hard to kill in most ways. Damaging his frame physically was only going to make him go into shutdown until he recovered, which it very much did.

[ The rest of the fight wasn’t shown given Tarn’s knocked out situation. But each member of the DJD had been annihilated by the gestalt team. ]

Tarn awakened a few cycles later to find his team offlined. Dark servos glided over each of their frames. Opening their spark casing one by one. Nothing. No light. No life force. His sea green spark pulsed wildly in his frame as his processor began to blurr. All he could see was red. Everything was numb to him as he succumbed to a fit of rage. Not just at himself but the whole universe in itself. His abilities raged to life like a wildfire as they left his vocalizer enough to short-circuit his vocalizer in response.

A swift kick to Helex’s shell made Tarn finally collapse to the ground. The executioner sat there for who knew how long with a servo on Helex’s frame, staring off onto the horizon.

After he somewhat recollected himself, Tarn called over the Tyranny to land nearby. Each mech’s frame was carried in Tarn’s arms as he carefully loaded them back onto the vessel to a place with a beautiful view. His mind was blank as he carried each one of them as his spark started to grow colder, felt less and less. Tarn tried cutting all feeling from his spark as he started to build up his well-known facade. A facade that would be hard to break. Because no one knew besides himself what had happened here. That the new members who’d come later were never the originals. But there was still that rage still raged on within him. A rage and darkness he welcomed with open arms and an open spark. Fuck it all.

Once the crew was loaded back up, Tarn alone guided the ship back into orbit and into deep space. Flying the ship all the way back to Messatine. Once she’d landed into the perfect spot, Tarn leaned over the command terminal. Still trying to puzzle piece everything together.

A commline was opened to Megatron. « Megatron, this is Tarn speaking. Monstructor Six is still online. I need replacements for the codenames, Helex, Vos, Tesarus, and Kaon. Effective immediately. Send each member to the planet Messatine. The Peaceful Tyranny and myself will be awaiting their arrival. »

Tarn’s voice sang out as he sang a song to his offlined team:

♪ ♫ ♪ “ Cold is the water It freezes your already cold mind Already cold, cold mind And death is at your doorstep And it will steal your innocence But it will not steal your substance.” ♪ ♫ ♪

The executioner made his way down to where his old team laid. A hard swift kick to the door, busted the whole thing down quite easily. To see the now infamous leader as anything but cold was something not many had seen if at all. A servo gently rested on each one as he spoke to them, even if the dead couldn’t hear him.

♪ ♫ ♪ “You are not alone in this. And you are not alone in this. As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand Hold your hand.” ♪ ♫ ♪

It was an unfortunate circumstance but it was very much something that was always there in his mind. This was his first team of the DJD and the next group little did he know, wasn’t going to be his last either.

Before putting them in their final resting place on Messatine, Tarn removed a part of their frame as a memoir and hid it in a special place on the Tyranny that only he knew of. Still to this day, only Tarn knows where it is. If someone couldn’t find him on the ship, he was with his old team.

♪ ♫ ♪ “ But I will tell the night And whisper, "Lose your sight" But I can't move the mountains for you.” ♪ ♫ ♪

“Goodbye my brothers. You’ll never be forgotten in my mind.”

[ Memory Disengaging . . . ]

#dont read if you dont want feels #bc i def killed his old team in this one #also anon whYD YU HAVE TO BE ON ANON #UGLY SOBS AT MY WRITING AND THIS DAMN SONG #{Memories}#Anonymous

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wiresandstarlings · 4 years

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all I find are souvenirs from better times

Some background: I was planning on making some scripted video content, but I found the process of actually recording so miserable that I gave up. I thought the transcript might still be an interesting read though, so I polished it some into this blog post. I was going to record my video over the original coverage, which you can find here if you want to follow along. You can find Sam and Josh's decks here.

So I'm going to try making a series of videos analyzing some matches from past coverage that I found instructive. My goal to showcase some interesting gameplay situations and to share what I learned from watching these matches.

This first video will be on Sam Black and Josh Utter-Leyton's semifinals match in PT Philadelphia in 2011. To me, this match really illustrates both how and how not to use your interaction against combo deck.

To set the scene, this is the first ever Modern Pro Tour, so all kinds of shit is legal. Cloudpost, Blazing Shoal, Ponder and Preordain, Rite of Flame AND Seething Song. There are like 8 decks that can kill on turn 2.

Sam Black is playing one of them, a mono-blue Infect deck using Blazing Shoal plus Dragonstorm to do 10 Infect in one attack. The rest of the deck is just cantrips and tutors.

Josh Utter-Leyton is playing a creature aggro deck splashing blue for countermagic, including 3 maindeck Bant Charm. A bit of a strange choice given the cards legal in this format, but the idea was that it had enough interaction to beat the creature combo decks like Sam's while being more consistent and resilient against disruptive decks.

With that, let's get into game 1. Let's quickly go over the opening hands first.

Dragonstorm 2 Blighted Agent Peer Through Depths Preordain Island

This is Sam's hand. It's on the weaker side in that he needs both land and Blazing Shoal to participate and even then only has an unprotected kill, but I think it's still a clear keep. Peer is around 35% to find Shoal, 60% to find Shoal or Muddle, and can also find more Peers or cantrips. Preordain will probably find a land and then we have multiple threats.

2 Elspeth, Knight-Errant Lightning Bolt 2 Arid Mesa

And this is Josh's hand. It clearly sucks but you're not mulling it to 4, especially under the Paris mulligan. Coverage doesn't have the hands that Josh mulliganed, so overall not much to learn here.

Josh is on the play and goes land go.

Sam draws Progenitus for turn, which is a dead card, then casts Preordain. He sees Scalding Tarn and Muddle the Mixture. He's obviously keeping Scalding Tarn, but Muddle the Mixture is interesting. Muddle tutors for Blazing Shoal, which Sam needs, but Sam would need a third land in order to do that.

Given that Sam has Peer Through Depths already, which is like 53% to find either Shoal or Muddle, I like bottoming this Muddle to look for more cantrips or a third land.

Coverage cuts away so it's hard to see what Sam actually does, but Sam probably topped the Muddle given he drew one. I think this a small error but not a big deal.

Josh draws Bolt, passes again. Sam cracks Scalding Tarn casts Blighted Agent, which he has to do. Sam's deck doesn't have efficient protection spells like the current Modern Infect deck does, he has to just run his threats out there and hope they stick.

Now, Josh does not Bolt the Blighted Agent on Sam's end step. I'm going to pause the video here, because this is a more involved discussion.

On a high level, there are essentially 2 ways you can use your interaction in combo matchups. The first is to hold the interaction and make your opponent beat it. The second is to use the interaction to disrupt your opponent's set-up, trying to strand them with dead combo pieces. The first approach is what Josh is doing here, holding up the Lightning Bolts and making Sam cast a Blazing Shoal with enough protection to beat all of Josh's removal. The second approach would be Bolting the Blighted Agent end of turn and hoping to run Sam out of creatures. Neither of these approaches is abstractly correct, and the right path to take depends on the matchup and your exact hand.

Fundamentally, it makes sense for Josh to default to fighting Sam's Blazing Shoals rather than his Infect creatures in this matchup, since Sam has 8 Infect creatures but only 4 Blazing Shoals. And if Sam commits a Blazing Shoal into a removal spell and the kill attempt fails, Josh gets both the Infect creature and the Shoal.

But in this specific situation, there are a lot reasons why Josh should deviate and just Bolt the Blighted Agent. The first is that Josh knows he's constrained on mana, and Sam might not be. Further, once Sam has a Blighted Agent in play, his combo costs 0 mana, and his deck is full of Spell Pierces, Muddle the Mixtures, and Disrupting Shoals. On the turn Sam goes for the kill, there's a good chance that Sam will have more mana for interaction up than Josh will have for disruption.

The second reason is that using Lightning Bolt proactively here will also let Josh develop a threat if he draws one, like a Tarmogoyf, Green Sun's Zenith, or Qasali Pridemage, and Josh currently has no pressure.

The third reason is that Josh has 2 Lightning Bolts and Sam has not played an Inkmoth Nexus, which suggests he doesn't have one. Josh would still have a removal spell behind for a second Blighted Agent, and Sam is less likely than baseline to have half his threats in hand, so we can reasonably expect that we'll be able to answer every threat.

The fourth reason is that half of Sam's interaction is Spell Pierce, so additional mana can inherently represent another layer of interaction on the combo turn. 1 Bolt with 2 open mana will often be as hard for Sam to beat as 2 Bolts with 1 open mana.

If Sam had played both Agent and Nexus on turn 2, I would be more sympathetic to Josh's line, since in that case we'd need to hold open Bolt for the rest of the game anyway to play around the combo. But even then, Bolting the Blighted Agent makes Sam's combo cost 2 mana rather than 1, making it harder for Sam to cantrip or Transmute and win on the same turn and squeezing out a counterspell.

Anyway, Josh doesn't Bolt. He draws Bant Charm and passes again.

Sam draws Preordain and sees Summoner's Pact and another Muddle. Pact is a clear bottom, and Muddle is a clear Bottom after we topped the first one. Situations like this one are why I think bottoming the first Muddle is better than keeping it. We would have wound up drawing a Muddle naturally anyway, and then this Preordain sees a card deeper.

Sam casts Gitaxian Probe and sees Josh's hand.

Now Sam has an interesting call because he's seen Josh's hand. He knows that if he plays the second Blighted Agent, then Josh can kill both and he'll likely be stuck transmuting Muddle for a third Agent. But Josh has so much interaction that Sam needs to put more threats into play, and countering a Bolt is more mana efficient than Transmuting but the end result is still just turning Muddle into a Blighted Agent. Plus, Josh has already shown disinterest in casting his spells, so we can maybe rely on him continuing to do that.

Sam plays the Blighted Agent here, which I like.

From Josh's perspective, Sam now knows he needs to beat 2 Bolts, is almost 0% to have Nexus after shocking to play the second Agent, and we drew a third piece of interaction. At this point, I think not using at least one Bolt is just heinous. I think not using both Bolts end of turn is fine since that might cut off our ability to cast Bant Charm down the line, due to fetching complications, but that's just even more reason to use one of the Bolts now.

Josh draws Plains, passes again. Sam draws another island, attacks and passes. Josh casts Bant Charm to kill a Blighted Agent end of turn, which is again an interesting spot from Sam's perspective. On one hand, the best this Muddle the Mixture is ever going to be is a Blighted Agent, so it kind of makes sense to get the mana expenditure out of the way in case we draw another Muddle. On the other hand, if we counter this Bant Charm and that convinces Josh to finally casts his Lightning Bolts, we're in trouble. Given how insistent Josh has been about not casting his spells, I actually like Sam's line because it potentially allows him to present more interaction on the turn he actually tries to win. Like if Sam lets Charm resolve, Josh lets Peer for Shoal resolve, and then Sam draws 2nd Muddle or Spell Pierce, then Sam forces Josh to have 3 pieces of interaction on the kill turn instead of 2, which is unlikely when Josh is stuck on 3 lands. Sam's play is relying on Josh to make a mistake for somewhat thin value, but Josh has kept making this same mistake so far.

Josh draws Helix, Sam finds Shoal off Peer. Then Sam draws Spell Pierce, so Josh dies with a Lightning Helix in hand.

It's not obvious that Josh wins this game if he casts his spells, since he still wouldn't have had any pressure and Sam was drawing live to more threats. But Josh certainly did not give himself the best chance to win. Like on the turn that Josh cast Bant Charm, if he'd just cast his Bolts earlier, he would have been drawing to any land or any creature finally get some pressure on the table.

Anyway, that game was pretty compact but I think instructive. Josh played really bad and Sam got to take a cool line that I think is a mistake in the abstract, but was correct based on how Josh was playing.

2 Noble Hierarch Tarmogoyf Bant Charm Plains Misty Rainforest Marsh Flats

This Josh's hand for game 2. It's marginal but a clear keep. It has threats, mana, and 1 piece of interaction.

Spellskite Gitaxian Probe Peer Through Depths Progenitus Blazing Shoal Island Inkmoth Nexus

And Sam's hand is the nuts. Just a turn 2 kill with Probe, card selection, and protection.

First turn cycle is straightforward, then Josh has an interesting choice on whether to pass with Bant Charm or to play Tarmogoyf and Noble Hierarch. My instinct is that Josh should just develop his threats, since it's not that likely that your opponent has a turn 2 kill and Bant Charm is so expensive that Sam can easily set up a kill through it if you give him enough time. But after thinking the situation over, I prefer Josh's play of passing. The fact that Sam played Inkmoth Nexus on turn 1 instead of a cantrip means that the Nexus being able to attack is important to him, and that to some extent implies Sam has the kill. Secondly, because Josh has the 2 Noble Hierarchs, he'll be able to hold up Bant Charm again next turn while developing the second Hierarch, and then he'll have enough mana to continue developing while holding up Bant Charm for the rest of the game. Third, Sam might have kept a hand exactly like the one he did, which is short on mana and interaction but has the kill, and can't continue profitably developing.

Now Sam plays Spellskite and Josh Bant Charms the Spellskite, which I think is a mistake. Sam has already presented 2 threats, you only have 1 piece of interaction, and you have infinite mana. It's the exact reverse of game 1, where Josh had a lot of interaction but not much mana. This is when you want to make your opponent beat your interaction, which means saving Bant Charm to Dispel Blazing Shoal.

If this was Josh's plan against Spellskite, I think he should have just played Tarmogoyf on turn 2 and accepted dying to the combo. Since now, barring your draw step, you're playing Tarmogoyf a turn later and still dying to the combo.

But anyway, Josh draws Green Sun's Zenith for Gaddock Teeg, which is the best possible. He puts Teeg and Hierarch into play, pretty straightforward.

Sam draws Peer and passes. There's some argument for casting Peer main so it doesn't get countered, but revealing what Peer finds is probably more important. Josh doesn't have many counters for Peer and doesn't want to counter it anyway.

Sam Peers and takes Snapback over Preordain, which makes sense. Sam has to get the Teeg off the battlefield to win and Snapback is one of Sam's few answers.

Josh draws Aven Mindcensor and plays it on his own end step after Sam reveals the Snapback. This play is interesting. There are two main upsides to this line. The first is that if Sam has Pact of Negation plus Shoal, then he no longer has the win on his turn with Snapback, Pact, Shoal. The second is that if Sam draws a fetchland, Josh doesn't have to play timing games with the Mindcensor. The downside is that if Josh waits, there's some chance that Sam goes for the kill against Josh's 1 unknown card, and getting Sam to commit the mana plus trade the Nexus is a good exchange. The situation basically boils down to what Josh thinks Sam will do. If Josh thinks Sam never attacks with the Nexus, it's strictly best to get the Mindcensor down right away. If Josh thinks Sam always jams into the 1 unknown card, even without Pact, then it's strictly better to wait.

From Sam's perspective, jamming is a "losing play", in the sense that he'll lose to a removal spell or a counterspell (in which case you've used your Snapback and no longer have a plan to beat the Teeg) and Josh probably has some interaction, but I think it's still the correct line. It's so tough for things to get better for Sam here, since he's two lands away from killing with Muddle backup and his Spell Pierces are already dead, if they're even still in his deck. If Josh just passes, it's right for Sam to jam and I think he frequently will jam. Josh could conceivably have a land, a dead Green Sun's Zenith, or a Noble Hierarch or whatever as a bluff.

This spot just comes down to Sam's tendencies as a player though. It's close enough that I don't feel strongly about either line, but I personally would have waited and expected that Sam would have gone for it.

Josh draws, Sam Peers again and takes Slaughter Pact, which is the best possible. And then he goes for it against Josh's random card and wins. All of Sam's plays here are straightforward and clearly correct, I think.

Wild Nacatl Gaddock Teeg Path to Exile Misty Rainforest Arid Mesa Horizon Canopy Tectonic Edge

Josh's hand is good, clear keep. It's heavy on lands but Teeg is his best card and he has a clock and interaction to pair with it.

Pact of Negation Blazing Shoal Dragonstorm Blighted Agent Gitaxian Probe Inkmoth Nexus

Sam's 6-card hand is also a clear keep, it's turn 2 kill through a removal spell with an untapped land in 3 draws.

As is, Sam's hand is going to have a really tough time beating Gaddock Teeg, since he'll need to draw land and then either exactly Slaughter Pact or Snapback. So this game probably won't going to be too interesting.

You'll also notice that Sam lost game 3 off camera and chose to draw this game, which is a legal game action.

Sam draws another Dragonstorm, which is the worst possible. Josh draws Flashfreeze, which is the best possible.

This is where I start skipping and speeding up, since Sam's so unlikely to win.

Sam actually has outs here, drawing Spell Pierce and then land. If he Peers into free removal and then topdecks untapped land, he can removal, Shoal, Pierce and win. So Sam's on 20% into 33%, around 7% overall. That's impressive given how badly the opening hands lined up for him; Sam's deck was really broken. He bricks and dies though.

Noble Hierarch Wild Nacatl Qasali Pridemage Stomping Grounds 2 Marsh Flats Sacred Foundry

Josh's hand sucks but I agree with the keep. This tournament used the Paris mulligan, so mulliganing sucks, and Josh's hand has a fast clock on the play plus Pridemate to interact with half of Sam's threats.

Blighted Agent 2 Disrupting Shoal Ponder Inkmoth Nexus 2 Island

Sam's hand also sucks but it has a counterspell for a 2-drop, 2 threats, enough lands to Transmute, and a Ponder to tie things together.

Not sure either of these hands would be a keep under the London mulligan but I think they're fine here.

Sam chooses to draw again.

Sam draws Pact, casts Ponder, sees 2 Peers and a Nexus. Seems like a good top, planning to Peer past Nexus.

Sam uses Disrupting Shoal on Pridemage, pitching Blighted Agent, which definitely seems right. Pitching Agent instead of the second Disrupting Shoal is an unintuitive but good play. Sam knows he's going to cast Peer on both of his next turns, so he won't be able to deploy the Agent in a window where it'll be useful. And the second Shoal might be able to counter a removal spell down the line.

Josh plays his cards and attacks, and he's down to all lands. Sam has an interesting decision between Probe and third Peer with Peer here. My instinct was to take Probe since we have second Peer already, but it's close. We're two cards away from our combo still and will probably need 2 more turns, and we might end up taking a better cantrip than Probe off of the second Peer. Peer is better than all the other cantrips here since Nexus doesn't tap to cast any other spells. On the other hand, we might not have the luxury of tapping Nexus for mana for two more turns.

Worth noting that situations like this one are why you generally choose to play in constructed.

Sam draws another Spellskite, which is useless. He passes instead of main phasing Peer, which is a big mistake. By passing, Sam denies himself the option of casting a Ponder or Preordain if he took one off Peer. Josh is unlikely to use a counterspell on Peer, and giving Josh an opportunity to cast his counterspell this turn isn't a big cost given Josh has so much mana already.

Josh draws 2nd Nacatl, which locks up a 2 turn clock but is otherwise a brick.

Sam sees lands and Preordain off his Peer and gets punished for waiting. He draws Blighted Agent, which is useless.

Cantrip sequencing is worth noting here. Sam should lead Preordain since it sees fewer cards, so he'll have a better idea of what he needs to find off Peer. Sam does, finds Dragonstorm and keeps it since it's one of the two cards he needs, pretty straightforward.

Josh draws a lethal Helix and Sam gets paid for holding Shoal all those turns ago.

Sam bricks his 35%er to find Shoal off Peer, takes Ponder instead. He's on another 30%er to find Shoal with Ponder but bricks again to lose.

If Sam had cast Peer on his main phase earlier, having additional blue mana would have given him more redraws to Shoal. That mistake probably cost him a 5% chance of winning on the last turn.

So, closing notes. I do want to stress that when I'm pointing out mistakes I believe Sam or Josh made, I'm not suggesting that that they're bad players. If you watch my matches on coverage, or literally anyone's, you'll find mistakes every turn cycle. Everyone is bad at Magic.

Note that this means if you're not seeing the mistakes in your own games, you're not looking hard enough.

Watching coverage is so great for improving because you get to see the mistakes great players made, mistakes you may not even be thinking about the game deeply enough to make yourself. But to improve by watching coverage, this is the kind of watching you need to do – actively picking apart what's happening on camera, figuring out why the players on both sides of the match are making the decisions they are, looking for patterns. It's not about copying what the players on camera are doing, it's about improving on it.

Anyway, thanks for watching reading.

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amosbrittany · 5 years

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Shattered chapter 2

Disclaimer : I don’t own Transformers Animated or any characters for that matter.

Notes : I haven’t done fanfiction, let alone TF based, in ages. And never for TFA, So I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing but what the hell, I’m going for it. lol I took quite a few liberties, pulling bits from various continuities to build this sucker.

Warnings : I have a tendency to put characters through hell. A bit of Bumblebee/Blitzwing this chapter. Eventual Optimus/Sentinel, Megatron/Ultra Magnus, Jazz/Prowl and Ratchet/Pharma.

Summary : The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but Sentinel’s latest stunt might just kill them all…or worse.

Getting Decepticons to divulge anything of worth was a chore in of itself, but trying to get them to talk after a solar cycle's toil in the Nucleon Mines was downright impossible.

After what happened at the outpost on the Fringes, the team stationed there had been recovered and samples of the mystery substance had made its way to the Ministry of Science for study. Landfill and Broadside had also been full of the malevolent purple stuff and just as insane and violent. It had taken some work, but they had taken them down and their bodies too were taken to the Ministry. It was unclear what they were dealing with. Leftover notes from past teams left them little to go by. However, Optimus felt there was some merit in Pharma's observation concerning the Decepticons and their aversion to the asteroid. They knew something and he needed to find out what before he sent anyone else back out there.

The team had tried the upper crust of Megatron's troops, expecting them to have valuable information. He was certain they did, yet they refused cooperation. The only one who didn't wax on about their leader's glory or Autobot scum this, we will tell you nothing that was Blitzwing, who seemed somewhat interested in talking. It was uncertain if he could meet the triple-changer's demands though. He wanted a pardon in some form, anything to get out of the mines really. The labor aside, he didn't seem to care much for the attention he was garnering from some of the guards. He also mentioned their penchant for making prisoners fight with one another with their rations on the line. They were all details Optimus found quite unsettling. Even if he couldn't have the triple-changer relocated, he made a vow to look further into the allegations. Cyclonus had quite a bit to say himself, but a great deal of it was cryptic and eerie sounding nonsense with death being a very prominent part of it all.

He had considered speaking with Megatron himself, but the Prime decided against it. It was better to let the tyrant languish in solitary where he was, rather than him anything to work against them somehow. It wouldn't be surprising given his wicked intelligence and manipulative nature.

Awaiting word from Alpha Trion on whether Blitzwing's request would be acceptable in any way, they moved on to question the grunts. For the most part, all they had to offer was that there were orders to avoid many of the asteroids that littered the ring of the Fringes, suggesting the one they had set the base on was one of many. Yet the why, that was still a mystery. Their superiors hadn't felt it necessary to tell them more than what was needed : if you value your spark, you won’t touch down on one.

"Well, that was a waste of time, bossbot." Bumblebee huffed as they waited at the entrance to the mines for word from the current Magnus. "And the only ones we can get anything out of are the screwiest ones of the lot."

"Blitzwing can be coherent." Optimus paused, a moment of uncertainty flickering on his faceplate. "When he wants to be."

"Kinda funny he thinks the guards are out for his aft." Bulkhead snorted.

The Prime didn't quite agree. Decepticons like Blitzwing and the Seekers weren't unappealing even by their standards as Autobots. They were just significantly larger. The only thing that made the triple-changer unattractive was that borderline demonic face he showed from time to time. Otherwise, his dominant personality had a comely face, his voice silvery which turned raucous when his fiery side flared up and his frame shapely for a large war-mech. It wasn't a surprise he had some unwanted attention, he was sure the Seekers had their fair share as well. "Whether they are or not, no one deserves that. He's a prisoner, entirely at their mercy and he has rights. Even if we can't get him relocated, I'm going to be looking into the matter."

<Optimus Prime.> The sagely voice of Alpha Trion sounded over the comm-link.

<Yes, sir?>

The elder was brief and his tone clipped as he gave his answer, disconnecting soon after leaving Optimus no room to question or argue. He supposed it was better than what he actually expected, although he had a feeling Blitzwing would not be fond of the idea of defecting. It was hard to blame him. All those who defected from the Decepticon ranks were placed on the list of the Decepticon Justice Division and eventually hunted down for their treasonous turn. With Megatron locked up, he had no idea if that would be the case, but no Con would take the chance. If for whatever reason he wound up under Sentinel's command, that was hardly much better than throwing him into the slag pits. They might as well ship him off and drop him right at Tarn's doorstep for all the good it would do the triple-changer. 'Maybe I can determine who he gets assigned to at the very least...I was planning on getting Bee his own team for the Earth assignment...'

The mid-solar shift was at its end and the graveyard shift were filing their way into the mines as the others filed out. Normally the Cons looked somewhat dejected on their way back to Trypticon, but it seemed their questionings had riled the group up. Lugnut was bellowing accolades for his master as they marched and Strika carried herself proudly. Bringing up the rear was the triple-changer they had their sights set on and his dark visage looked back at them excitedly, as if hoping for some promising news. "We'll take Blitzwing from here for some final questions." Optimus stepped up, stopping him and the guard herding him and the Cons along at the rear. Strika and Lugnut turned.

"Do not tell zhem anyzhing, Blitzwing. Zhat is an order!" Strika snarled menacingly.

Lugnut howled at him as well. "DO NOT TURN ON THE MASTER! HE WILL RISE FROM THE ASHES AND LEAD US TO VICTORY! DEATH TO THE AUTOBOTS! ALL HAIL LORD MEGATON!!"

Blitzwing's visage reddened as he let out an annoyed growl. "Jou shut jour intake for five fragging cycles OR I VILL SMASH JOUR SKID PLATES IN, JOU-!" A fierce giggle split the air. "-One eyed, one track, flying purple proton eater! EHEEHEEHEE!"

Much to the Prime's shock, the three attempted to lunge at each other, the two juggernauts against the berserker. Clearly tensions had escalated within the faction since their incarceration, seemingly to the point even the higher ranks were brimming with dissent. That was somewhat promising. While Optimus and Bulkhead took the Con's arms and Bumblebee pushed on his abdomen as guards wrestled the other two down, they kept the three apart as they directed him to the interrogation cells. Once out of sight of the others and the guards, Blitzwing settled down, grudgingly walking with them in silence. They stepped into the room, the SIC across the metal table from him while Bulkhead and Bumblebee flanked the Decepticon in case he attempted something. Blitzwing folded his hands together, wrists bound in stasis cuffs for added measure, regarding Optimus calmly. "Vell...?"

"Well." Optimus cleared his vocalizer, wary of how the offer would be taken. "Alpha Trion is willing to give you something of a break from the mines for information on the asteroids of the Fringes. But that's pretty much it. It's either you denounce the Decepticons and join us, or you stay where you are. The most I can influence would probably be who you get stuck with and of course, investigating your claims of harassment."

Blitzwing frowned, briefly appearing close to losing his temper for a klik before he seemed to rein it in. His gaze shifted down, eyeing the table with a cold intensity. Optimus had a feeling he was weighing the consequences and the perks, maybe even considering escape under the pretense of joining them. That was certainly a possibility, but of course the question there was always, what would he do then? The Decepticons that mattered were all under lock and key, those that remained were splinter groups scattered across the edges of the universe. "I..." Blitzwing began, his gaze never leaving the table. "I vill have to give zhat some consideration. I know jou understand zhat."

That wasn't very surprising so he nodded. "Okay. I do. I understand. Now the asteroids...?"

"...Zhey have a peculiar substance in zhem zhat vorks like, eh oh, zhe nucleon? Or Nuke? But vorse. Our scientists have vorked vizh it for some time, a long time ago. But it's very volatile. It's like energon but wrong. Zhe tests showed it made jou stronger, faster, more powerful but aggressive too. Zhey usually vent feral und died from zhe exposure to zhe stuff. Und never let it near a carcass. Zhat’s even vorse." Blitzwing explained casually. What he told them sounded exactly like what happened to Huffer, who had attacked Sentinel and Pharma in some frenzied state after being exposed. "Zhey decided it did more harm zhen good for zhe var effort zo ve avoid it. Ve alvays found it funny you Autobots built over zhe stuff like idiots."

"You're the idiot." Bumblebee poked his arm with his stinger.

"No, jou are!" The Con giggled at him.

"Any idea where this stuff came from?" Optimus pressed.

"Cyclonus alvays zaid it came from zhe 'heart of darkness und zhe root of all evil'. Und I vould take vhat he says a little serious if I vas jou. He's seen zhings. Odd zhingz. Ve even vonder vhere he came from at times...As for vhere, he said zhe asteroids came from a great battle in zhe Vok territories zhat hurled the asteroids far und vide. Vhat zhat battle vas, he never really zaid. Only it vas something ancient and terrible." The Decepticon’s face flipped again and he gave him a giddy, fanged smile. "Und zhat's all I know about zhat!"

It was certainly more than they knew before, so Optimus was grateful for the Decepticon's cooperation. What they had learned though troubled him deeply. If it was something that repelled even the Cons when clearly using it against them would be advantageous, then they were going to have to figure out what to do about the base in question and whether they could set about destroying the asteroids harboring the foul stuff. "Let's get you back to your cell then. You'll have the next deca-cycle to consider Alpha Trion's offer."

Blitzwing's jagged maw turned down in a frown, clearly not pleased with the idea. He wasn't sure if the triple-changer had expected much else. They led him from the interrogation rooms back to his cell where to his surprise, Sentinel was waiting for them. "I was wondering where the delinquent prisoner went but they told me you were questioning him?" Sentinel eyed Blitzwing warily.

Although some part of him wanted to be happy to see him, his old friend always led to unpleasant things in one form or another. "What are you doing here?" Optimus frowned.

"Guard duty till they refill my roster. Apparently they're not keen on letting that infernal outpost go, despite the weird scrap that just went down. Relocate it for Primus’s sake at least...And before you ask, Pharma is keeping the old coot on Omega Supreme company." Grabbing Blitzwing's elbow roughly, he practically shoved the Decepticon into his cell, ignoring the vicious growl thrown at him in response. Sentinel smirked condescendingly at him. "So what did ugly here tell you?"

"Better lookin' than you." Bumblebee remarked offhandedly.

"What was that?" Sentinel glowered.

The minibot whistled idly, stepping away and moving towards the cell doors like the Decepticon was more interesting. Optimus sighed. "Apparently the stuff is bad news and we should look into relocating the space bridge."

"Really? Gee, I just told you that even! But then again Oil Slick told me some interesting stuff about it too, some stuff Blitzbutt here probably made sure to conveniently leave out." He glanced at the triple-changer smugly, having done his own idle questioning while they had been talking.

"Like what...?" The SIC frowned.

"That the stuff can raise the dead and everything. Sounds crazy, but Huffer didn't exactly go down easy. Maybe if we used the stuff on Ultra Magnus, he'd perk right up." Sentinel smirked. He was feeling inspired after talking with the scientist. The reports on the injured Magnus were not looking promising and if he found a way to save him, he was sure Ultra Magnus would be so grateful he'd surely regain his old position if not get off Fringe duty. But Optimus was looking too alarmed for his taste.

"Are you crazy? You can't use that stuff on Ultra Magnus! Look what it did to your team! Under no circumstances is that stuff going anywhere near him."

"Ah, because you're now next in line and you don't want him to recover?"

Optimus pinched between his optics. He should have seen that taunt coming. "Unlike you, Sentinel, I'm not that interested in being Magnus. But whatever this stuff is, it's dangerous and nothing good is going to come of it. Even the Decepticons don't want to touch the stuff, that should tell you a lot."

"It tells me they know it best and what happened to the others was when they were alive and well. The science whiz over there claims it's more beneficial for the dead and dying."

"Remember what happened last time you trusted a Con?"

"And you want to trust this one?"

Blitzwing watched the exchange curiously, feeling a little worried at the former Magnus's train of thought. Megatron had tried, millions of stellar cycles ago, to take advantage of the dark stuff when it came to the dead and dying in order to maintain their ranks. It had proven nothing but a scourge. And bombs with the stuff had been banned as well. It ate at and corrupted what it touched, hence why their leader forbade its use directly on Cybertron itself. He always had a feeling if Megatron had grown desperate enough, he would resort to it. Surely the Autobots wouldn't be that stupid.

He turned his crimson optics down to Bumblebee, admiring the minibot for a moment to distract himself from the grim memories. Unlike Optimus and Bulkhead, it looked like the little one had gotten a new paint job. Black was a more prominent color than the yellow now with deeper golden yellow accents. Silver elite guard emblems adorned his arm guards. It was a good look for him actually.

Looking at his own paint job, Blitzwing grimaced. Several stellar cycles in the mines had robbed the beige of its metallic luster, dulled the purple and muddied the black on his plates. His tank treads were scuffed to the Pit and back, his wings chipped. A hot oil bath, thorough buffering and a repaint sounded downright heavenly. There were odd cracks in his plating, particularly along his legs where long solar cycles of hard labor had put a strain on him. His left ankle struts pained him constantly and there was a swell on the right where he'd been struck by one of the guards in vicious retaliation for biting him with his Random face. It was likely he had to have some joints repaired if not replaced, but that wouldn't happen until they gave out on him completely.

Bumblebee looked up, watching the triple-changer examine himself. He waved a hand at him and as soon as he had his attention...He proceeded to make a series of comical faces at him. Blitzwing made an unintelligible noise of delight before he started to mime them back at the minibot gleefully, forgetting the arguing Primes for the moment.

Weary of his argument with Sentinel, Optimus called on his team to come along. He wanted to get word to Perceptor on what had been shared with them and ensure Ratchet kept a close eye on Ultra Magnus in case his old friend decided to do something ridiculously foolish. "Come on, Bumblebee, you can make faces at Blitzwing later."

"Yeah. Later, Blitzbrain." The minibot waved nonchalantly before stalling momentarily, caught off guard by the forlorn look on the black visage. He shook it off, hurrying to catch up to the others and convincing himself he was seeing things.

~+~

Oil Slick watched as the Primes argued over the little gem he had handed the one who was once Magnus. Of course, said gem had caused its fair share of misery and strife among the Decepticons back in the day, but it was his hope that it would cast a terrible pall over the Autobots in turn.

"...You know not what you set in motion." Cyclonus rumbled ominously.

"Please." The scientist drawled. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"A sunrise dark shall cast pall upon the empire. Time will rust. He shall stand alone while not alone. Adorned the titan will be in black metal. The stars shall scream. The symbol of the Uncreator shall be clear. And his gaze shall unravel the legacy of Primus. Thus shall the adversary rise. A black star. Unstopped and unstoppable."

"...'a perpetual conflict will culminate upon a world forged from chaos. And the weak shall perish in the shadow of a rising darkness'." Shockwave joined in, reciting another of the prophecies of Primus along with Cyclonus. "Yes, yes, we know, Cyclonus. But those are only terrible tales to scare protoforms. Oil Slick's course is logical...Sow chaos among the Autobots and with any luck, it will give Blitzwing the opportunity he needs to free us."

"How?" Strika pressed against the cell wall to hear them better.

"It is a logical conclusion that they are offering him the chance to join their ranks and 'reform'. But Blitzwing is no fool, he will not risk the wrath of Lord Megatron let alone Tarn by truly joining them."

"You do realize zhis is Blitzwing ve are talking about..."

Shockwave tapped his claws together, watching the triple-changer from his cell. "I am well aware he can act the fool...But, he is not foolish. I dare to venture he would have made a more admirable second over Starscream before the...procedure."

Blitzwing tilted his head from one side to the other. He could tell they were talking about him, the way they leered his way now and then. They were pinning their hopes on him, which was quite the gamble on their part. If an arrogant blowhard like Sentinel Prime could sleaze his way all the way to Magnus, the triple changer was sure he could rise high enough in their ranks to access Trypticon and do just as his fellows hoped. Still, he had to wonder if it would be worthwhile in the end. They had been fighting the good fight for fourteen million years, the same song and dance again and again. There was nothing but consistent losses. Their empire had lost several planets in their limited territory and countless mechs and femmes had perished for the cause. As a scholar once said, to do the same thing over and over expecting different results was madness.

Hell, without Megatron for those fifty stellar cycles, they had accomplished next to nothing. Besides calling on Lockdown to hunt the Autobots responsible for their lord's demise, Blitzwing himself had been preoccupied with taking care of his charges on New Kaon before he and Lugnut had set out to find the Allspark.

Even with his return, they had come close to seizing the Allspark, only to be handed their most crushing defeat yet. Instead of focusing on Earth, it would have been more lucrative to take Omega Supreme back to Charr, dispose of Starscream, have Strika's team retrieve the protoforms, produce them en masse, and launch a proper invasion of Cybertron while the leadership was crippled. Or at least, given the details imparted to him by Shockwave of their final assault, would have been the way Blitzwing approached the situation. Megatron's vindictive streak had demanded he go after the Autobots and the Sumdacs for the slights he suffered for those fifty stellar cycles. An understandable feeling, but one that had cost them in the end.

Now the prominent figures of the Decepticons were locked away in Trypticon, toiling away in the nearby nucleon mines. They were now no better than the slaves they had once risen from. It was a mercy the gladiatorial arenas were no longer functioning, although the Trypticon pit fights were no better. Blitzwing had no desire to be a slave again, which was why he was seriously considering the offer from the Autobots. It wouldn't be ideal, but damn it, anything was better than this!

He shuffled around in his small cell to settle comfortably on the bench provided. It was woefully cramped, his wings occasionally scraping against said bench or the wall. Blitzwing huffed, dropping his head back against the wall. He offlined his optics as he mulled over the choice looming ahead of him, but the sound of a bot approaching his cell brought him back to the present. He lifted his head, glowering at the person opening his cell.

Bumblebee, looking cocky as ever, was waltzing in like he owned the place. "I forgot these cells were...Well, they're not small for me but your big aft takes up all the space."

Blitzwing giggled. "Come over und I'll show you how big my aft is! I'll sit on jou, Bumblebench!"

"Didn't know you were into sitting on people, but I could tickle your ports if you insist."

"Oh-! Vait..." There was a brief moment of confusion on the black visage before his features lit up with flushed surprise and he descended into a fit of giggles. "I didn't realize zhis vas a conjugal visit, jou naughty little bot!"

Snorting, Bumblebee hoisted himself up on the bench next to the Con. He could tell the other Cons across the way were watching them intently but he tried to pay it no mind. He was here to pester the triple changer. "Just think...You take the offer and you won't have to be stuck in a tiny room like this."

"..." Blitzwing looked down at him. Oh, was that what this was...?

"When ya get out, we could let ya spend a whole day at Sunny's body works shop. She does hot oil baths, deep plate buffering, get you a nice new coat of paint...The beige and purple ain't bad, but blue and white would look pretty sweet on you. Get some awesome high grade at Maccadam's-"

"So vhat, jou here to try und tempt me, little bug?" He huffed with annoyance.

Bumblebee grimaced, as if he were caught with his servo in the energon goodie jar. "Well..."

"I am vell avare of vhat I'm missing, bug. New Kaon does not exactly have much in zhe vay of luxury, nor do ve have zhe time to indulge in it." What there was to be had in New Kaon was simple in nature, they made do with what they could. It was hardly as decadent as how the Autobots lived.

"You indulge in anything ever?"

His plates bristled a little, hearing a touch of accusation in the minibot's tone. But it had been some time since he took much time to himself let alone truly enjoy some of the more sophisticated pleasures in life. The troops had been a handful in Megatron's absence and even when he had been around, the best Blitzwing had to brag about was the oil they consumed on Earth. But despite how the Constructicons praised it, he'd had better and Megatron kept the best samples of it for himself for obvious reasons. It paid to be at the top of the fuel chain after all. "Back home I vould make hot Mudder's Milk und zome chocolate covered vheel-nuts vhich I enjoyed vhile lounging in a hot solvent bath every Glutsol. but zhat vas a long time ago."

"Mmm, on one hand that sounds boring, but then again, sounds pretty swanky too."

"Vhat do you indulge in zhen?"

The minibot grinned, counting off on his digits. "Racing, video games, dancing, music, awesome movies, hanging with my pals, junk food, soooooo much junk food. I really miss Sari, but it'll be fine cause bossbot says they're gonna make a city on Earth and he's thinking I could be stationed there if I want. Then we can hang out all the time!"

"Vhat could possibly be zhe appeal of 'hanging' vizh a tiny organic like zhat?" Although the humans had been curious creatures, he wasn't overly fond of organics in general, especially after the experiments Blackarachnia put him through.

"Just cause. But she's awesome too!"

"Zhose are not very zatisfying answers."

"Then don't ask dumb questions!"

"Zhere are no dumb questions!"

"Yes there are!"

Blitzwing bared his teeth menacingly at the minibot who hardly took it seriously. With a growl, the Decepticon crossed his arms, frowning at him. "I don't have jour answer und I probably von't anytime soon! Let me enjoy zhis break in peace!"

"For now anyway...I'll be back in a couple solar cycles to bug ya again." As he hopped down to take his leave, Bumblebee winked at him. The triple changer scowled, his faceplate warming a little. "See ya, Blitzbrain!"

On his feet as soon as the cell was closed back up, he watched after the departing bot. His face spun and his mouth spread wide in a jagged grin, clapping his hands energetically. "Oh joy! I can't vait! Maybe next time I'll sit on jou!"

#transformers #transformers animated #fanfiction #AU #optimus #megatron #ultra magnus #sentinel prime #blitzwing #bumblebee #pharma #ratchet #prowl #jazz

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