#anyways I think I had more to say on the Decepticon Motive in general

[quibbs126]

So something I was talking about with my friend yesterday, he was saying how the general modern interpretation of the rise of the Decepticons is basically a worker’s revolution

And I was thinking (and I also said it to him), Transformers One is actually kind of an exception to that

I mean yeah, workers revolted, but it wasn’t workers revolting after becoming fed up with their poor mistreatment and wanting change, it was more a group of workers revolting after learning their ruler was lying to them about everything they ever knew. They weren’t the happiest with their lot in life, but they weren’t actively calling out for change against the higher class prior to learning about Sentinel. Closest one to doing that was ironically enough, Orion Pax, not D-16

TF One’s Megatron’s motivation for starting the Decepticons seems to be more just “eat the rich”, as opposed to worker revolution. Heck, most of our known Decepticons here were members of the Elite Guard prior to Sentinel’s takeover, not other miners like Megatron. Those guys seem to all be Autobots instead

I don’t know if this observation means anything, but I’ve been meaning to post it and it’s break time for me now, so yeah

[decepti-thots]

i made a post a while back like "i'm not gonna bore you with the details but i really think a version of DotL where Megatron had refused to take Rodimus' hand and Rodimus had saved him against his will when he was fucking up Tarn would rule" and guess what i have Bad Brain TM today and need a distraction, so now i am going to bore everyone with the details.

anyway, i think it makes a lot of sense thematically and while typically i try not to be like "god i WISH this had happened in canon instead" rather than like, oh this is an interesting alternative, or oh, this is what i feel about what is actually there in canon... i can't stop thinking about this one partly because i was thinking about what it is in canon that made the idea so appealing to me for both of these characters. so... here we are. this is not quite me trying to ponder out an AU concept but it's also not quite an analysis of canon. (i guess maybe the front half is before I get to the AU stuff?)

one of the issues i've always had with DotL, an arc that has a lot of individual bits i like and a lot of potential in its core concept for me, is that i don't think it goes far enough with a compare/contrast on Megatron and Rodimus for my taste. in general, i think the back part of MTMTE with these two winds up often feeling like it has a much clearer idea of what it wants to do with Megatron than it does with Rodimus while still wanting Megatron and Rodimus to be foils in a way that I think could often stand to have more balance between the two.

(Rodimus' arc begins to come back into focus and recover a lot once Megatron winds up stranded in the FU, IMO, though I think this is something a lot of people feel differently about. to me it feels like he loses a lot of forward momentum in the name of making them more obvious foils which stalls his development for a bit and leaves the narrative floundering slightly with what to do with him. YMMV.)

and you can argue that this is because the core concept is actually one which revolves around Megatron and Tarn, and the way tarn acts as a stand in for something broader about the Decepticons for Megatron, but... well, I already wrote about why I unfortunately don't think that really has time to become anything because of how MTMTE was written, namely due to Megatron being a much later addition to the cast than Tarn was.

ANYWAY. i think one untapped vein for those two that could have stood to be better utilized is that albeit within very different contexts and scopes, both Megatron and Rodimus have arcs by that point in the comic that are deeply concerned with ideas of accountability and growth, how those can be measured, how you can achieve them, etc. Rodimus' goes back to the climax of Remain in Light, for me; the core turning point of the first part of his arc across the comic is, IMO, his insistence that he doesn't want to die because he thinks it's cheap, and going out in a blaze of glory to make up for his mistakes is an easy way out versus the need to actually do something about it once they get back.

Megatron is quite tricky to get a handle on the actual motivations of until this point in the comic. the degree to which he's sincere about what he says he wants to do, and how much he fully grasps what it entails, is... not ambiguous to the point that like, the reader is expected to assume there's a twist it was All A Ruse coming along or anything, but definitely something that can be debated. we get moments in e.g. Elegant Chaos where juuuust enough doubt is cast on his capacity to be selfless about it that just how much he has committed to it is in question.

I say until "this point in the comic" because that's what I've feel, on reflection, the narrative utility of the scene with flowers is supposed to be* in conjunction with the way Megatron acts later where he clearly considers just dying alongside Tarn, which seems a pretty big reversal from how we've seen him act previously. if the pivotal point here for Megatron where the change from self-preservation we've seen before and the willingness to be self-destructive in this arc takes place is the scene with the flowers, that gives us some possible answers to "what is Megatron's goal in trying to defect and seemingly make 'amends'?"

(* disclaimer: this scene really doesn't land great for me like it does for some, execution wise, so I had to think hard about what it was trying to do and like. read generously, y'know. shrug. i do try to do that, though, when i do these things, haha.)

to me, the answer that makes the most sense is that beforehand, Megatron was indeed trying to make amends, but he was doing it in a particular way that the flowers made seem impossible. namely, he wanted to try and balance the scales. this is a very natural way a lot of people will jump to thinking about what making amends means, after all. you did this or that bad thing. you can't change the bad thing you did. you need to do something good to make up for it. the good thing needs to be in proportion to the bad thing you did, crucially, in this kind of bargaining. making amends is like, I broke your favourite trinket, I gotta get you something that can make up for it to apologise, in the smallest, most basic terms.

what the field does is make that something Megatron now realises is absolutely impossible. like, the scope of it makes it very clear what a blatantly ludicrous idea that is; the only possible way to do a crude tit-for-tat atonement of that kind for all those deaths would be to somehow stop an event as cataclysmic and long-reaching as the one Megatron himself was responsible for, something so vanishingly unlikely to ever be possible that it can be disregarded immediately. any possibility for atonement that is understood under that system is now inherently out of reach to the point even considering it is absurd.

which is why it makes sense to me that there would be that change in behaviour. you can read his willingness to stay and die with Tarn as him essentially letting go of the idea there is a way to get out of the moral hole he's gradually dug himself into over the millenia that isn't just subjecting himself to whatever punishment gets meted out to him.

to jump back to Rodimus now, that's not how I'd argue we see Rodimus understand these concepts. again, these characters' deeds exist on a pretty different scale, but thematically, I think the parallel is interesting enough that it still warrants examining. the thing that really interests me about Rodimus' approach to these things is that they feel internally, rather than externally, motivated. what I mean is that in MTMTE, it never really feels like anyone expects Rodimus to do better. he has successfully convinced people of the partial front he puts up as something of a defense mechanism, and to people like, say, Ultra Magnus, that's Just How He Is. people try and deal with Rodimus when he makes rash decisions or whatever. they don't try to get him to improve himself. so when Rodimus does just that, try to be better, he does it under his own steam, basically because he realises he ought to.

or, to put it another way, Rodimus doesn't tell everyone about Overlord and put his captaincy to a vote because people told him he could be better than this and he thought it was gonna make the crew chill with him again. sure, he's very unhappy with the results. but he seems to basically do that because he thinks he should and if he should, he will, whether or not it actually makes anything better for him. hell, that's really why it winds up so hard for him with e.g. him looking at the (fake) list, right- doing something you know just isn't going to make anything better for you purely on principle is the harder option, always.

he's not 100% there with it immediately, and this is something I think Rodimus' arc comes up against several more times in the series because the lesson isn't a one-and-done thing. (Drift comes to mind as a particular failure on his part there, one the comic addresses as such down the line.) but when he starts to develop that self awareness about the need to make amends, he develops it in that direction, IMO.

so I think these are two very different ideas these characters are developing in their own arcs about what, exactly, accountability and justice mean. and if you have Megatron fully accept his original concept, and therefore, after the field of flowers, really just commit to going "well fuck it" and dying instead, you can then have him come up against Rodimus whose entire perspective stems from his insistence way back that that's cheap. if you have Rodimus save him against his will, suddenly these characters now represent an argument about which one of them is right, and their being foils represents a kind of ideological argument.

the clearest way I can think to articulate the argument I'm thinking of is: if there isn't any atonement or amends to be had after what you did, are you still going to do good things just because they are good? if there aren't any scales to be balanced because it turns out that's an unworkable way to go about it, are you still motivated to do the things that you originally did in the hopes it was part of some calculation doing just that?

of course, one can argue that this is what canon does when it has Megatron accept Rodimus' hand- but I dunno man, something about the idea of it being an argument, like an actual argument these characters are having, appeals to me. because Rodimus would be pissed at Megatron because he sees it as shirking responsibility, and Megatron would be pissed because jesus christ do these people want to execute him or not, make up your minds, and you still have in the middle of all that the developing like, camaraderie that's coming much more into focus at that point in the narrative. because as well as being representative of an ideological argument, it's also literally a character being told that actually no, someone doesn't want you to die, and that character having to prove it, and that's a whole thing in itself.

anyway. like I said, I'm not really a "they should have done THIS instead" person, I prefer to look at canon as it is and judge that and leave alternative ideas more in the realm of AU and fanfic rather than bring it in. but thinking about why this particular AU scenario appealed to me just clarified a lot of my thoughts about this arc as it does exist in canon so I couldn't really extricate the two in this instance.

[baebeyza]

Ideas/concept in each Transformers series that you liked that are either written terribly, wasted potential and needed to be written in depth?

Okay, say GO! note: I love most of these shows and most of what I nitpick here isn't to say that I hate what we got + doesnt include RB and RBA

G1: I love Galvatron's and Cyclonus' dynamic and loved how the show was self-aware about the fact that Galvatron was crazy, and I would love to see this written with more depth and getting further into Cyclonus' motivation for staying at Galvs' side Headmasters: It's always about Sixshot- I love him so much but always gotta say that his development only really started in the last four episodes - would have loved it if we had gotten some inclination about his more gentle character before that!

Super-God Masterforce: I am of the opinion that Masterforce is a great show with great writing and great characters and don't have much to talk about here. Anyway, I absolutely adored Godbomber and the entire concept behind him - he's a drone who gets controlled through Ginrai's chokon-power (human energy) and acts whatever Ginrai wants him to do. What I found so nice about him is that he emotes! :D And he does react to other people, even if his reactions are all based on Ginrai's will. He doesn't have a voice, so he has to get his point across in other ways and seeing him do that is a delight ~ It made him feel like a character instead of just a drone with no personality and it would have been so awesome if more detail was put into that. Minerva treated Godbomber like a person and I'd have loved to see more of that!

Victory: There is a lot I loved about this show that just didn't really come into fruition - this post should explain it! Beast Wars: I fucking love Megatron cloning his ex Dinobot to get himself a new henchman, anddüde - wouldn't it have been nice to see it be acknowledged how creepy that is? Maybe get more into the reason why he has this need to clone Dinobot? Megatron obviously wanting his ex back, but his ex wont come back, so he creats a version of his ex that is just what he wants to him to be...weird housewife creepy romance novel style??? Beast Wars 2: Hm, tbh the stuff I liked about this show was well done! Can't think of anything here

Beast Wars Neo: Same as BWII, I just cant think of anything here that I loved that was done badly. The shows are simple! One thing I would have loved to see more of is Big Convoy's past as a lone wolf. We got bits and pieces but a little bit more couldn't hurt!

Beast Machines: I loved almost every idea in this show and somehow none if it was done in a way I truly enjoyed x'D 1. The premise nature vs techno 2. Blackarachnia trying to save Silverbolt 3. The whole concept of using existing sparks for new bodies, creating new people 4. Megatron splitting himself in half 5. Plantformers Apart from the Plantformers, all these were great ideas but the way the show executed them was depressing and weird.

RiD01: You know me people, I fucking love Ultra Magnus and Optimus being brothers in this and I would have given everything for more depth between them! Just a flashback to how they were before Ultra Magnus went JerkMode would have been gold QuQ

Armada: I loved the conclusions at the end, absolutely hated everything before the conclusion tho Energon: Love Shockfleet/Mirage being in fucking love with Galvatron, wish Galvatron had acknowledged it once qvq

Cybertron: Almost the same as Energon - I loved Chromia/Thunderblast having a crush on Megatron and wished they had done something with it. They could have gone full Decepticon Queen with her with evil romance, but Megatron has the same amount of communication and social skill as a brickwall.

TFA: I loved the 2 minutes of Cyclonus and hated that he never showed up again-

Cyber Mission: So, there is this episode in which Bee and Ironhide are sparring and Ironhide saves a flower from being squished under them and is like "we must protect life". Bee says that the flower aint sentient tho, but Ironhide says "this one is."

WHAT THE FUCK DO MEAN A SENTIENT FLOWER EXISTS ON EARTH??? Why to they drop this thing and then never do anything with the concept-!

TFP: I feel like Ultra Magnus is kinda missed potential and wished they'd have done more with him, he could have had great dynamics with the rest, but was just used for Wheeljack angst.

GO!: Man they got this Predaking character (I love Predaking) and he's just so generic...and they didn't even make him bishie and pretty like the original characters for this show qnq

RiD15: I loved Steeljaw but they did him dirty by just never allowing him to be the show's threat! He mostly just got pushed aside and used by other people. (still sexy tho, his german voice be like WOOOOO-)

Prime Wars: I loved the plot of this, loved what they did with Megatron and it was such missed potential to not make him Prime at the end! QnQ It would have fit so much! Nothing against my monkuh Primal, but come on! Megatron was right there-!

Cyberverse: Loved Roddy as leader and was kinda disappointed when he was done after Prime showed up again. My boy deserved at least an award or something.

WFC: You know me, I loved the stuff between Megatron and Magnus, but it is a shame that we just never got to see how they were pre-war. And not just those two, them, Optimus and Elita as well. I like the plot, just wish we got backstory.

[tinycrow]

Mama Fortuna

C-05: Trouble in Paradise

Note: This chapter just didn’t want to be written for some reason.

~*~

Though things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, they now had allies, resources, and a base of operations. The soldiers had honoured them with their bravery during the Mission City fiasco, and after the Decepticons were forced to retreat, Optimus Prime discussed with the appropriate human officials the importance of defence against the new threat.

Mission City remained a reminder to both humans and Autobots as to how important it was to unite against the Decepticon threat. NEST was born, and a new base was chosen.

Megatron’s body was buried in the ocean. The remaining shard was put under human protections after intense debate. It wasn’t ideal, but in the end, there wasn’t a better suggestion.

Guardians were chosen for the select humans that they had grown close to. Ironhide had gone with Major Lennox, and Bumblebee requested to stay with Sam Witwicky.

While Cybertronian life was a secret from most humans, there was hope that Earth could become a second home.

~*~

Oh my god.

I kneel next to the woman and put my index and ring finger to her throat to check for her pulse. Finding it, I then put my ear near her mouth to listen for breathing. She’s not breathing. I need to call for help.

What’s stopping me? I glance at the huge and lifeless metal body of an alien nearby. Being in a less populated part of town, there are no other witnesses, as far as I know. However, this woman needs help, and I cannot call for an ambulance or the police. It would call all sorts of attention, and none of it good.

There’s gotta be something I can do. I hover my shaking hands over the woman’s body. She’s organic. There is no way this is going to work. But I’m going to try anyway.

A quick flash lights the walls of the nearby buildings. In that brief moment, I can feel this woman’s spirit, such a kind and generous spirit, as my power moves through her body to fix the damage to her lungs. She’s changing. There was no other way about it. I feel regret for what I have done, but I remind myself that I have limited options.

The woman takes a gasping breath but doesn’t open her eyes. In relief, I then turn to my next problem. The alien.

What in the world am I going to do with this?

Hands still shaking, a grim expression forms on my face as I consider my options. If I heal him, he will just come after me and my family. If I don’t, someone will eventually notice the body and a different kind of attention will come here. I could bury him, maybe. It might be hard, considering how big he is.

I stare at the conjured metal spike that is piercing their metal heart. The alien had somehow noticed the presence of my children, even though they were in their alternative forms. As the alien posing as a car transformed into a large mech, I could only stare in panic.

I hadn’t noticed the woman close by until an unholy shriek pierced my eardrums. She was grabbed, and I could only imagine that her ribs were broken when she suddenly passed out. I made my move out of desperation in that moment, and the nearby concrete gave way to a metal spike that luckily took the mech out. The alien would’ve never expected a human to be able to do that. I was lucky they underestimated me.

Swaying in exhaustion, I wonder if I have the strength to bury my aggressor. Emboldening myself with grim determination, I stomp the ground once. Then twice.

It takes a few tries, but the mech is completely buried. Sort of. A piece of them is showing, but I don’t have the strength to do anymore. As long as no one looks closely, I’m sure it’ll be okay.

~*~

“Novatron is offline. Their last location was a small town in North America.”

A low growl and a curse in a foreign language fills the otherwise silent space.

“And?”

“Their course was altered to avoid an asteroid in their path, and they landed far from where we are. Their last transmission reported a strange energy signature and the appearance of small Cybertronians of unknown affiliation.”

“So, there were Mini-bots. Why is this of concern to us?”

“Novatron was convinced they were not Mini-bots. They sent us a voice sample they overheard.” A 5-second sample was played.

“Sunshine, I know you’re excited, but you need to be quiet.”

Chitter. Beep. Chirr. Young, barely restrained excitement.

Many voices started talking as soon as the sample finished. They knew what those sounds meant, and if it was true, they hadn’t been heard in millennia.

“You, go investigate. If possible, bring back the sparklings. Do not let the Autobots find out what we are doing.”

~*~

“Hey, wake up. Wake up. Please open your eyes.” I gently shake the woman. I can’t carry a full-grown woman by myself, and dragging might hurt her. So, I am insistent on waking her from her place on the concrete.

A groan escapes her lips and her eyelids flutter open. She jerks awake and away from me.

Seeing her about to scream, I hold up a finger to my mouth. “Please don’t scream!”

She freezes, looking around frantically and then locking her eyes on mine. “What- Who are you? Where is that—that thing? “

“I’ll answer those questions in a bit, but first you need to know that you are safe. I killed the one that attacked you.”

It takes a second for my words to register. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and disbelief. I certainly don’t look like much, and I am seemingly unarmed.

I interrupt her thought before she can start, “Yeah, I know how I look. Kinda hard to believe. It wasn’t easy... look, I know you have questions, but if you really want answers, you’re going to have to trust me enough to go someplace safe to talk. Or, you can go back home and pretend this never happened. The choice is yours.”

“I don’t even know you, and you want me to come with you. Who are you?”

I sigh. “You can call me Ray. Do you want answers, or do you want to walk away?”

She considers my question, before hesitantly nodding and replying, “I need to know what just happened, and what that thing was. Please.”

Her look is so desperate that I feel a surge of compassion for this poor woman. Her world is about to be rocked to its foundation. I smile genuinely sympathetic at her and stand up. I offer my hand, and she takes it after only a second of pause.

“I found this great restaurant in town. How about we get to know each other on our way there?”

~*~

A couple weeks later...

“Linda! Linda!”

Said woman sets down her shopping bags in time to be jumped by metal children. Seeing this happen from my station near the stove, I call out with a stern voice, “Sunshine! Ellie! What have I said about jumping on humans?”

“-not to,” the two say simultaneously.

“Get down.”

Without much of a fuss, they obey. It hasn’t been the first time I’ve had to remind them.

Linda spares a lopsided smile for them as she turns to me to say, “Aw, it’s not so bad. It’s kind of cute... No need to be so serious, Ray.” She turns to her bags, waving the children away and rustling through them.

“It won’t be so cute when they get bigger.”

The woman looking through her shopping bags freezes for a second, and I side-eye her. She has been taking all of this remarkably well, but I know that she still has moments of terror when she remembers or dreams about the alien that she saw on the day we met.

“They have a couple ‘frames’ to go through before they reach their full size. Sunshine will be pretty small still, though Ellie may be the size of a human one day.”

No response from her. I continue speaking as if nothing is wrong, “They love you, you know.” They would never hurt you, I try to say between the lines. “I think knowing a human other than me is helping socialize them. I’ve seen them copying our mannerisms sometimes. It’s really cute.”

Some colour comes back into Linda’s cheeks. I smile encouragingly at her, and she gives a small smile back.

I joke, “So, what dost thou bring from yonder town?”

“I picked up that milk you texted me about. I bought some cereal—don’t look at me like that, you need to eat something in the morning. It’s the most important meal of the day!”

I restrain myself from whining and simply pout. My soup seems to be done heating and I lift it off the stove to pour into a bowl on the kitchen table. I look up to see Linda taking some metal scraps out of her bag.

“Woah, what’s that you got there?”

“Some junk we were going to throw away. I thought you’d appreciate it. Don’t let anyone know I gave it to you, though.”

“Is that all of it?”

“There’s more in my truck. I didn’t want to take too much or it would be suspicious.”

I whistle lowly. Just by this alone, I can tell that trusting this kind woman was a good call. I remember how scared she was when we talked in the restaurant, and how much I wanted to hide my babies from her. Fear has always been a motivator for terrible acts in human history... not that I remember where I’ve learnt that, considering my circumstance. It makes an interesting read now, however.

“How far along is the construction?” I ask her, taking a spoonful of soup and noisily slurping hot liquid.

We talk for a few minutes about her work in construction before we hit a lull in the conversation.

“Ray...” She says, catching my attention. I look at her inquiringly, but she doesn’t continue.

So, I prompt her, “Yes?”

“... I’ve been thinking.”

Now I’m wary. For the short time that I’ve known her, I’ve known she was kind and generous, but sometimes... there’s a flash of stubbornness, of determination to succeed in whatever she sets her mind to. I start having a feeling that whatever it is, I won’t be able to talk her out of it.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to start my own company. I just didn’t have the money or means to.”

My stomach churns with anxiety, and I get an inkling as to where this is going. The problem is, should I let it get there? We haven’t known each other for very long, despite how it feels like we’ve known each other for forever. After a tense moment, I make a decision. I would stand my ground, but I wouldn’t shoot her idea down until I hear her out.

“I see, and now?” I ask.

~*~

I’ve been getting random surges of anxiety when I’m out in town. I really can’t say where the feeling is stemming from, but considering the attack a couple weeks ago, I’m guessing it’s not good.

Both Linda and I decide it’s time to move, and boy is it an expensive one. I pay my renter for the current and next month I promised I’d be living in the farmhouse for, which would have brought my savings down if I didn’t sell the minerals I was creating in my spare time. With Linda’s guidance and help, we set up what would be the foundations of our ‘family company’, “Davis and Weber Co.”. Beside Linda and I, her brother and father are the only ones brought in on our secret. The humble farmhouse becomes a truck stop as, beside the Ford pickup Linda owns, both males bring a couple moving trucks to help me move my limited furniture, the ‘coffee machine’, and the materials I’ve been collecting with Linda’s help. The pickup trucks were one of the first purchases by the company.

I’m not sure what Linda told her boss, but she is free from her former job. She has been handling permits, selling, and purchases for our new company since then, though I know she had help from her father with that.

As for me, I’ve been getting better at creating small gadgets with aid from my powers and increasingly conscious knowledge, though nothing alive yet. A simple but secure communication device was one of the most recent, and we decided to test them on the road to the new warehouse we bought a few days’ journey from our current location. It looks like a standard earpiece with a mic, but has a barely noticeable black square—a fingerprint reader that works as a locking mechanism and an on-off button. The devices send data on an encrypted channel that is not usual for its kind. The hardest part was getting the fingerprint reader to work.

“Testing, one, two...”

“I hear you, James. Linda?”

“I hear you and dad. Oli?”

“Mama, Ellie is being mean,” we all hear on the com, and I resist the urge to face-palm.

“I’m here. I hear dad, sis, and Ray.”

“Mama! Sunshine hit me!”

“No, I didn’t!”

When I hear scuffling in one of the trucks, I walk up to it and move the mic away from my mouth as I bang the side of the truck. “Hey! Break it up! Don’t make me go in there!” The fighting stops, and I walk back to Linda’s pickup truck, moving the mic back to my mouth. “It’s a long ride, and I don’t want any unwanted attention on us, okay? There’s a lot of dangerous people out there.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably at my statement. Linda’s brother and father both were told how Linda and I met, and it was accepted that aside from greedy humans wanting me and my babies for crazy new tech, hostile aliens might also.

“Sunshine, Ellie, do you understand?”

My voice isn’t loud, but they can tell I’m serious. I get a couple of quiet assents. I nod to myself and hop into the passenger side as Linda gets into the driver’s seat.

“Alright, let’s roll.”

~*~

We’re about a day into the journey when we see some suspicious activity around our small fleet of trucks. I turn around to look at the car tailing us, it’s an expensive car... and the only car for miles.

“It’s stalking us. It knows.”

“Just... keep cool,” I say lamely, even as I feel my body tense, “It could be coincidence that they’re on the road with us.”

“Guys, I see more super cars,” Oliver warns.

The car immediately tailing us changes into the oncoming lane and speeds up to just in front of us. It’s done so quickly that we don’t have much time to react. I barely have time to notice the car has no driver when it turns back into our lane, effectively blocking us in with the other car quickly coming up behind us.

“Linda, that’s—“ I start, but she cuts me off.

“—I know!”

The car in front of us stands up, and if it wasn’t for the fact that we were surrounded by empty farmland, we would’ve crashed trying to avoid it. Swears fill the com. I fear for my life as Linda’s truck swerves over a ditch and barbed fence, coasting into an empty field. The other two trucks stop hurriedly, Oliver’s truck barely slamming into the back of James’.

I jump out of Linda’s truck and sprint toward the truck with my babies.

“Everyone quiet on the com and if you can, run! Babies, stay there. Remember, it’s just like we practiced.”

Silence. I’m glad for it as I see the metal giant get a grip on the truck in front of them. I see the form of Linda’s dad (James) curling forward and down to avoid the shattering windshield glass. My legs and lungs burn as I try to get there as fast as I can. I can hear Linda’s voice behind me telling me to wait, but I simply cannot do that.

There are no pipes underground or metal around me to use, so I’m not sure what I can do to stop this one. If only I was stronger, more experienced... My eyes water as I reach desperately inward to that power that has been slowly growing. I reach my hand out to James’ truck. Please, save them.

A spark lights my fingers briefly, before an unseen wave of something knocks the air out of everyone. It even makes the giant stop. Then, they look at me.

Oh, shit. I dig my heels in and change direction. Linda shouts in alarm behind me and I grab her as I run back to her truck.

“Change of plan, Lin, we’re going to run.” I cup my hand around the mic and whisper harshly, “We’ll see if we can lead them away. Head to the warehouse.”

“What?” Linda asks fearfully, but I pat her shoulders and look her straight in the eye.

“No time for debate, Lin. Let’s go!”

[libermachinae]

A Little Scrap

Also available on AO3!

Summary:  Ratchet is such a dad that even getting sparked up can’t stop his systems from activating sire protocols.

Notes:  Might do more with this, haven't decided!

✨ ✨🚑✨✨🚚✨ ✨

Some creators would say they’d known from the moment of conception. Poems and songs had been spun around the moment two beings coalesced into one and the bond between them solidified into a new consciousness, a binding of all the features that had drawn them to each other in the first place. They said that their first words to their newspark had not been in any language that could be reproduced in a vocoder, but had been something deeper, something generated from those same basic codes that had gifted Cybertronians with the capacity to love.

Ratchet knew it was scrap.

Back before bonding was seen as a dangerous weakness and sparking was less rare (though never common; had it not been for the Well, their war would have amounted to little more than a spat between neighbors), he’s been more than happy to expound on all the biological realities that made those romantic fantasies impossible. Going to battle against misinformation, he brandished lecture notes as a spear, textbook chapters his shield, and years of peer-reviewed studies the cavalry to back him up. Source after source confirmed what any adult with a functioning logic center should have known: one would have no way of knowing whether they were a carrier or a sire until medical tools had confirmed it.

Though it came too late to be of much use in his campaign to get himself barred from any social circles containing creators, the most damning evidence he’d encountered, the unit that would have bolstered his forces enough to guarantee victory, turned out to be his own firsthand experience.

[[Decrypting personality component crtr_01.]]

The readout appeared while Ratchet was on monitor duty, watching the little blips of his teammates rove over the map while he waited for the signal to reel them in. The self-diagnostics feed was a software he’d had programmed during an outbreak of engine cough, back when the war was being fought in the trenches of Cybertron and you couldn’t walk two steps without a cloud of exhaust blowing in your face. He’d needed a tool to catch early warning signs of the disease in his code, and afterward had never had a reason to uninstall it. Most of the time, it scrolled unnoticed on the bottom corner of his HUD, alerting him that fuel processing was normal, gyro stabilizers were normal, t-cog alignment was normal, etc., and in recent years had shifted to such low priority he rarely processed the data, letting it naturally cycle into his deletion queue. Had he been doing anything more engaging than waiting for the signal to pull a lever, he would have missed it.

[[Integrating crtr_01.]]

He frowned. Though he’d expanded his knowledge of coding once the deficit of medical expertise among the Autobots reached critical levels, it had never been his specialty, and he didn’t recognize the file. Curious, he isolated the first half as a keyword and used it to search his medical archives, hoping its relation to other fragments would be a clue to its function.

Self-diagnostics continued to update him on the code’s development.

[[Personality component integrated.]]

[[Checking for motivation conflicts.]]

[[No conflicts found.]]

[[Sire protocols engaged.]]

Ratchet straightened up.

His optics flashed.

“Scrap,” he said aloud, a fact he would be teased for relentlessly years down the line.

They’d—but that wasn’t supposed to—the Matrix didn’t allow—but, if anyone could have done it, Optimus—

Optimus was out in the field.

Ratchet’s processor flew into action, all hesitation gone because Optimus was compromised and their fragile newspark—their newspark, what the frag—was in a potentially hostile environment.

He tuned into comms while his fingers almost independently punched in the coordinates for the little blip on the screen that might as well have represented the total of Ratchet’s universe.

“Optimus!” He barked it in the same tone he’d once used to send residents scrambling.

: :Ratchet?: :

His new coding sang at the sound—that voice! isn’t it beautiful? so kind, so wise, so regal, a perfect bot and a perfect carrier!—and he had to remind him himself via memory playback of the last minute and a half why he’d called in the first place.

“As Chief Medical Officer, I am requesting your immediate return to base.” Now that he knew Optimus was safe, coding softened his tone, trying to tempt the wayward carrier back to safety.

: :Is this an urgent matter?: : Optimus asked.

“Yes.” He finished typing the coordinates and threw the lever, the ground bridge blooming open at his back, and for once couldn’t even think about the energon consumption as he waited for a response.

He felt like his spark was thrumming with the excess charge of his panic, and all he received in return was a curious tug on their bond, wisp-like from this distance. Ratchet pushed back with his apology (He’d yelled at Optimus!) and concern (What if Decepticons arrived? What if the energon was unstable? What if the vibrations from Bulkhead’s mace traveled through the floor, up through Optimus’ pedes, and into his spark chamber, disrupting the tiny bundle of photons within? Was that even possible? Why had he been so blithe as to assume a wartime medic could skimp on reproductive health?), hoping it would be enough to convince Optimus without Ratchet showing up in the field to drag their Prime back to base.

It was already taking all his self-control not to go ahead and do it.

: :Something wrong at base?: : Bulkhead asked, startling Ratchet. Though he’d intended to access the team-wide channel, he’d forgotten about every other Autobot in existence the moment Optimus’ voice had come through.

“Negative,” he managed to say.

: :BbbRREppTt vrrrmphVREE bp bp?: :

“Patient confidentiality,” he said in answer to Bumblebee’s question. “Just know that it is urgent Optimus remove himself from the field.”

: :Got it, Ratchet.: : Arcee’s confident tone somewhat settled Ratchet’s tense spark, though nervous static still crackled along his lines. : :We’ll get him out of here.: :

Ratchet smiled, sure that Arcee would know his gratitude even if she couldn’t see it.

“The ground bridge is open at your coordinates, Optimus,” he said, unable to look away from the bright center, each stray shadow making his systems hitch in reckless excitement.

There was a pause. Ratchet imagined the others gently corralling their Prime to the waiting ground bridge, reminding him of his duty to the CMO.

A burst of static as comms came back online.

: :I’m on my way,: : Optimus said, resigned. His curiosity prodded at their bond again, and Ratchet sent over calm assurance, his new sire protocols settling now that he knew his bonded was headed toward safety. Toward him.

It was difficult to put to words the feeling of stressed coding, the same way he hadn’t exactly been able to explain to the children what it meant to be bonded to another mech. They’d been able to understand the emotional bond as a form of heightened empathy, but there were no appropriate words in English to describe the deeper connection, the physical feeling of having one’s innermost self tied to that of another. In the same way, he doubted he would be able to explain to them what it was that had him staring over his shoulder after Optimus’ message came in, the flutter of excitement in his chassis that all the miserliness in the world would not be able to tamp down.

He thought he’d be able to control himself, but he was already moving the moment Optimus’ silhouette appeared. In the sole defense of his pride, he didn’t quite sprint.

And anyway, no amount of pride could have stopped him from pulling Optimus into a tight hug.

“Ratchet?” Optimus asked, concern evident among his confusion now that they were separated by the mere plating of their frames. “What’s wrong?”

How did he answer that question? Though he had no intention of keeping this a secret from Optimus, he wasn’t sure the right words existed to explain their new situation. Ratchet squeezed tighter, focusing on the one thing he was capable of in that moment: holding Optimus close, knowing he was safe, knowing he would be kept safe. At least for as long as their duties would allow. The sire programming was turning out to be more intense than had been implied in Ratchet’s med school readings, prioritizing itself over what were usually Ratchet’s primary impulses, like maintaining a gruff exterior and dismissing anyone younger than a millennium. Now it was just Optimus, and keeping Optimus safe, and making sure Optimus knew he was loved, and—

“Should you not close the ground bridge?” the Prime advised, in that infuriating tone he used when he was channeling the wisdom of the Matrix.

Ratchet grumbled in answer, withdrawing from the embrace but reaching down to entwine their fingers.

“The others?” he asked, guiding Optimus back into the base like they were a pair of newbonds entering their apartment for the first time.

“They remained to finish sweeping the mine.”

Obviously. Ratchet wasn’t sure why he’d asked, except that his processor was lost in a fog of anticipation for the coming conversation. He needed to say it. Optimus didn’t have the diagnostics program, so unless the Matrix had prematurely shared the news, he had no idea that he—that they—

“Ratchet, the ground bridge?”

“Right, of course, my apologies.” Ratchet forced himself to release Optimus’ hand and turned to the control panel, pushing the lever back to standby. Though the team was still one comm away, isolation came to settle over them, the way the light in the base dimmed once the swirling vortex had been shut down. He relaxed against the control panel, trying to get a handle on the blooming process trees that kept growing out of control every time he tried to figure out what to say.

He felt a hand over his shoulder, offering gentle, loving caresses. Did carrier protocols make a mech more affectionate? It would make sense, reinforce support networks that would be necessary in the later carrying stages to—

Focus, slagit!

He turned back to Optimus, took the free hand so that together they formed a perfect circuit. Optimus’ hands were larger than his own, but they fit together in such a way that Ratchet’s processor was finally able to settle with the familiarity.

“A few minutes ago, I received an alert from my self-diagnostics,” he started.

“Are you alright?” Optimus asked.

“I… I am,” Ratchet decided.

Though insufficient, the answer settled Optimus, the texture of their bond changing from corrugated anxiety to a wavy curiosity. Blue eyes looked on, giving space to continue. Ratchet squeezed those familiar hands and felt them return a pulse of affection.

“I’ve activated sire protocols,” he said. “We sparked, Optimus.”

Optimus’ optics flashed within a frozen expression.

“Oh?” he tried.

(Ratchet would later try to deflect the teasing by bringing this moment back up; never landed as well.)

Ratchet nodded and now could not keep the excitement from his movements.

“We did. We have a newspark, Optimus!”

The Prime’s optics were still bright, mouth stretched into a line that didn’t seem to indicate any particular emotion.

“The Matrix, though, isn’t it supposed to…” He turned pointed eyes down to his broad chest compartment, the container for the two most important things in the universe (plus the symbolic artifact of Autobot leadership). Optimus was well established in the field of mystical speeches about the mysterious, infinite powers of the Matrix, but remained apologetically lacking in his understanding of the physiological effects it had on his frame; apologetic specifically to Ratchet, who had made the subject his own area of obsessive research for the first few decades of the primacy.

“The exact limitations are different for everyone.” The line that was practically a requirement for closing out any study of the Matrix. “The evidence is there, though. Creator protocols are directly linked to spark health and status. Unless Earth has…” He was going to say a native spark parasite population, but the thought alone caused his battle systems to request activation, so he shelved it and instead released one of Optimus’ hands to begin leading him to the repair bay. “Anyway, I’ll show you on the scanner. If creator protocols just came online, it’s unlikely you’ll have noticed anything, but the equipment should be able to pick it up.”

They entered the repair bay and Optimus sat on the medical berth while Ratchet booted up the nearest medical terminal. When a loading bar appeared on the screen, his processor took that as permission to imagine the bit: silvery plating, red accents (a chevron? audial antennae?), little round helm, large cyan optics, nubs to grow into tires once the t-cog matured, clean plating free of insignia, practically limitless storage space to fill with the wonders of the world…

The program finished loading and filled the screen; Ratchet stole the distraction to reassert himself as the ornery old medic, though he could not stop his spark from thrumming when he thought of tiny hands wrapping around a soldering iron. He retrieved the scanner and turned to Optimus again, laying a hand against the familiar windshield to confirm the placement of his spark. After so many years as friend, physician, and lover, he could have found it with his sensory suite shut down, but the pulse of warm life under his touch blossomed through his frame in a way he could not deny himself.

He passed the scanner over the point in a narrow angle, approximating a three-dimensional reading. It beeped to let him know it was satisfied, and then the data began compiling on the terminal, delicate measurements translated to essential diagnostic tools.

“Would you like to consider a name?” Optimus asked.

It was not the promise Ratchet’s coding longed so desperately to hear, but it was a kindness, nonetheless. In the quiet of the moment, as they waited for a machine to reveal the truth of their future, Ratchet’s thoughts cleared a bit and he was able to admit the actual prospect of their Prime carrying a newspark in wartime. It was a pain that again he could not put to words, almost like a burn but borne out of a deep pressure in his fuel lines, but it was dulled by the Optimus’ offered compassion: this new life was not theirs to keep, but for however many minutes the little scrap of photons had left, they could claim it as their own.

He was about to answer when the computer dinged, a congratulations to itself on a job well done, and he embraced the opportunity to avoid the question.

“Here we are,” he said, filling in the silence for good measure. “As always, the Matrix at least has the decency to keep you in good health. RPM’s a little higher than normal, and energy concentration, but… hm.”

But beyond that, there was no excessive energy drain, no internal pressure, standard shape and density. Ratchet stared at readouts a few hours ago he would have called completely normal and could not understand them.

“Oh.”

Optimus’ spark was alone.

The pressure in Ratchet’s lines tightened.

“Ratchet?”

He shook his head, trying and failing to put on a smile that didn’t fit.

“Sorry, Optimus, looks like my old spark’s glitching.” His vocoder didn’t want to put the words together, hitching between syllables like failing to say it would stop the reality from manifesting. He reset it and tried again. “Nothing there, after all.”

Optimus’ optics flashed with surprise. Ratchet couldn’t blame him. He didn’t make diagnoses without being certain of his conclusions, and under different circumstances would have hesitated longer to admit such a mistake, ran several more tests and consulted his archives. His spark was aching with an emotion he had no interest in putting to words, though, and he had to dedicate his focus to getting out of the repair bay. Don’t think about the conversation Optimus would want to have later. Don’t think about—about that. Don’t think about anything. Just move.

Optimus stood from the berth but did not approach Ratchet, though every protective in that huge frame of his was probably aching to console his bonded. Instead, he stood back while Ratchet went through the motions of saving and filing the spark readouts, tagging it as a standard inspection.

“Do you know the source?” Optimus asked, offering Ratchet a problem to focus on that was not his own code going haywire. Or at least, a different way to look at it.

“I have a few theories,” he said, because coding still was not his strength and ‘a few theories’ really meant ‘chapters I need to review.’ It would take time to understand and debug, but from a physical standpoint, he already had the scanner primed for the task, so he turned it around and drew the same shape that he had over Optimus’ chassis.

“Let me know if I, or any of the others, can be of any use,” Optimus said. “I care very deeply for that spark, and if it is ailing would like to see it made well again.”

Normally such concern would have been a source of embarrassment for Ratchet, with a shard of fondness peeking out underneath. Now, his protective protocols just insisted that this was nope, wrong, need to protect Optimus. It struck him that he needed to get this glitch worked out as soon as possible, otherwise Arcee would accuse him of being a more extreme version of himself than usual: he hated losing arguments in front of the team.

The terminal dinged again, and this time Ratchet turned to watch the results spill onto the screen.

High RPM, understandably; below average density, which was a bit odd; the irregularity of shape he’d had all his life; elevated internal pressure, which…

Energy stores were down 15% from standard. Not a huge margin, but he’d been tracking these numbers for millennia, charting energon consumption the way Optimus followed Autobot ships in battle. A discrepancy of that magnitude was something to investigate on a normal day.

After a day like this…

Ratchet laid a hand over his chassis, above his warm spark.

“Scrap.”

“Ratchet?”

Optimus was closer now, drawn in by the terrific blankness that had filled their bond. Ratchet tried to draw up something to fill in the void but was having trouble processing. Familiar arms were raising toward him like a part of his processor was saying it was his job to defend now. Like a bit of coding had flicked on, a patch he wouldn’t be aware of because he’d never been fitted with the diagnostic feed.

“Well, Optimus,” Ratchet said, vocoder hitching for a brand new reason, “I might’ve found our bitlet.”

[shikai-the-storyteller]

The unofficial “Change, In All Things, Is Inevitable” playlist.

Here’s some of the music I listened to while working on this fic, plus a few key lyrics and some commentary about each song:

------------

Gladiator – Zayde Wolf

Imma give you a second just to catch your breath / 'Cause I can see that your heart is jumpin' out your chest / I know you gave it all 'cause I've already seen your best, and it’s time you accepted this 

Let me tell ya / I've got every reason to fight

This song is great because it pumps me up and then 1 minute and 50 seconds into it, the tone does a complete 180 and gives me serious chills. It reminds me of current Megatron vs. past Megatron, and his initial motivation for starting the Decepticon revolution in the first place. I think he lost his guiding principles along the way, but his anger and gladiator might hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s a perfect Megatron song for obvious (and not so obvious) reasons.

Church – Fall Out Boy

Megatron: Take the pain / Make it billboard big then swallow it for me / Time-capsule for the future / Trust me, that's what I will be Soundwave: Oh, the things that you do in the name of what you love Orion Pax: I love the world but I just don't love the way it makes me feel

Church makes me think of the early days of the revolution when Orion, Soundwave, and Megatronus were all working together towards the same goal. The chorus is fitting for all of them; their friendship was a sanctuary of sorts, and it gave them the kind of support / relationship none of them ever had before (at least in Megatron’s case). Friendship was a novel, strange, but wonderful thing. Pity it didn’t last long :’I

If I’m being completely honest, Toastyhat’s animatic for this song definitely influenced my associations, what with the gladiator ring and all that, haha. It’s a fantastic animation, and I highly recommend checking it out if you haven’t already.

Meet Me on the Battlefield – Svrcina

We carry on through the storm / Tired soldiers in this war / Remember what we're fighting for Our tainted history, is playing on repeat / But we could change it if we stand up strong and take the lead When I was younger, I was named / A generation unafraid / For heirs to come, be brave

This melancholic song is a perfect fit for the tone of the war, and Optimus’ feelings on it. Poor guy never expressed interest in being a Prime, but he never really got a say in the matter. The best he can do is keep moving forward hoping it’ll one day come to an end.

(Side note: someone’s done a TFP AMV with this song! Go check it out.)

Run to You – Pentatonix

I've been settling scores, I've been fighting so long / But I've lost your war and our kingdom is gone I will break down the gates of heaven / A thousand angels stand waiting for me

Very much a melancholic unrequited Soundwave --> Megatron song. I don’t care how many times I listen to this; my heart always aches for poor Soundwave and the ending he got in TFP. He would’ve gone to hell and back for Megatron (and I suppose, in a way, he did).

Battle Cry – Imagine Dragons

Stars are only visible in darkness / Fear is ever-changing and evolving Nobody can save you now / The only sound is the battle cry

Another great song for Megatron! He reveled in his fights as a gladiator, and war is no different. It’s his challenge to Optimus and anyone else who'd dare oppose him. In essence, I see it as Megatron’s “If you’re not with me, then you’re against me, and you’d better be damn well prepared to be treated like an enemy” song.

The “stars are only visible in darkness” line also reminds me of Optimus and Megatron’s conversation in IDW’s “The Transformers” #22 comic, where Megatron goads Optimus, saying he would’ve been no one and nothing without him / the war:

Also: I genuinely had no idea this was a Bayverse song until recently so sHHH LET ME LIVE

Chains – Radical Face

I thought I had control, that I could always walk away if things turned bad / We were thick as thieves 'til I became the one who always went too far / And I couldn't hear you  In the end I'm lost / And I'll drag you down yeah, that's my cost / But I'm glad you were my friend 

Finally, the song that helped inspire this fic! Definitely gives me strong MegaOp vibes. Despite everything that wound up happened, Megatron and Optimus were each other’s biggest influences for a loooong time. That’s not the kind of thing that can be forgotten easily! I think Megatron was briefly reminded of the friendship they once had at the end of Predacon Rising. Megatron doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who has regrets, but I still wonder if anything akin to it crossed his mind before the end.

A few bonus lighthearted joke songs: A Little Help From My Friends – The Beatles This song came up on my playlist while I was editing some early chapters where Megatron / Orion / Soundwave were still buddies, which I thought was ironic, sweet, and a little bit sad. Take A Chance On Me – ABBA  An example of a song I associated with a character as a joke, then thought about WAY too much to the point where it’s no longer a joke. Anyways, please imagine Soundwave playing this every time Megatron passes him up in favor of the Decepticon’s latest traitorous and/or knuckleheaded senior officer. (Seriously though, why on EARTH do you have your most loyal officer as your third in command, Megatron??? Stability and competence clearly mean nothing to you).

Strawberry Blond – Mitski

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape / I picture it, soft, and I ache

This song is perhaps a little bit too wistful / lighthearted for the TFP continuity, but the tone (and the topic of unrequited love) reminded me of a young love-struck Orion Pax. (This was supposed to be a fun addition to this list but the more I think about it, the sadder I get :’I I’m so sorry your life sucked so much, Orion).

Songs reminding me of other TF continuities that nonetheless influenced this fic: Firewall – Les Friction

Deep beneath the light / A spark will now ignite You will see me now / This is my world now

A great G1 / IDW song that’s particularly good for Megatron and Optimus. I could dissect every single line of this song and create an entire MV to it, but I’ll spare you the 10 page essay. Just listen to the song and let your imagination run wild! So many lines are perfect!!! Alright I lied, here’s a few good corresponding lines: Megatron: Fear is a device / So quiet and precise / It's not what I allow / Not in my world now Rodimus / the Matrix: This force is in love with you / It wants you safe / It wants you well Shockwave / empurata: This force knows what you can do / And what you can make / With your tattered shell Optimus / the Matrix: Faith in your device / So quiet and precise / Just when, not how / You can feel it now The Autobots: Deep beneath the light / A spark will now ignite The Decepticons: You will see me now / This is our world now

Dangerous Man – Little Dume  An absolutely PERFECT IDW Megatron song! Great for Megatron post- his change of heart. I actually am determined to make an MV with him for this song because it’s just that perfect.

Silhouettes – Of Monsters and Men

There's nothing that I'd take back / But it's hard to say there's nothing I regret. 

Not necessarily a perfect song for TF, but these two lines from it reminded me so strongly of Megatron / Optimus I figured it was worth making note of.

[roseymoseyberry]

Samsara (4/?)

I’m gonna be v busy for the next few days so I’m posting a little earlier than I had planned to.

ALSO!!! It’s less relevant here than on ao3 but uhhhh while writing this chapter I accidentally wrote an interfacing scene. Oops. It was a surprise to me but here we are. So just know that if you weren’t expecting that to pop up in this fic, well. It’s here. But it’s p vaguely described with a much stronger focus on the emotions involved.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Though this chapter is a rollercoaster of emotions haha.

Title: Samsara

Series: RID15 and TFP (and some tidbits grabbed from Aligned wiki pages)

Ship(s): Wildbreak/Knockout, Breakdown/Knockout

Tags/warnings: Reincarnation AU, hurt/comfort, verbal/physical abuse (though the worst of the physical abuse is barely described or off screen), past character death, age difference (but still consenting adult alien robots), a lot of filling in worldbuilding gaps and making shit up, and a lot of Wildbreak being a sweet boy who just needs some love and affection. NEW TAGS/WARNINGS: Very vaguely described sticky interfacing

Fic Summary:

From the day he was forged, Wildbreak had felt like there was something missing; some motivation or drive or desire that had been left behind in the Allspark.

Something he should know but didn’t.

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|

Wildbreak wasn’t really sure what he expected at the end of the journey.

It was dark out, and made all the darker as they stood under the heavy boughs of the forest, but their combined headlights made it easy enough to make their way through the foliage. It took nearly an hour of stomping around before Knockout slowed and Wildbreak asked, “Why’re we stopping?”

Knockout gestured in front of him.

“We’re here.”

It was just a small grassy clearing. Large enough to allow a couple cybertronians at most to walk around, but still small enough that there was only the slightest spacing between leaves that allowed moonlight to fall on the center of the space. Truthfully, it looked like any other clearing in any other forest. Wildbreak wouldn’t have been able to differentiate it from anywhere else in the woods they had trekked through.

However, his spark fluttered sickly.

“At least, this is most likely the place,” Knockout continued as he took slow steps out into the clearing. “Dreadwing was polite enough to give me the coordinates, and while Breakdown’s frame was already long gone by the time I came to check, there had been enough evidence to suggest this is where it happened.”

Wildbreak stayed on the periphery, his joints locking up with an odd dread.

It was shockingly easy to imagine the spilled energon across the ground that Knockout now stood on.

“Autobots?” Wildbreak asked as carefully as he could.

Knockout’s back was to him.

“Decepticon,” Knockout corrected, his tone almost indifferent sounding. “Instead of simply doing the job himself, Megatron sent Dreadwing and Breakdown to offline her, coming up with some fake cover story. She realized, of course. Not everyone is as oblivious as that egomaniac.”

Wildbreak felt his spark twist. It occurred to him that he could ask about it, about who ‘she’ was, all the circumstances that led up to it, but the very idea only made him feel more ill. Wildbreak desperately didn’t want to know.

He didn’t want to have this horrid tale sound familiar.

“I’m sorry.”

Knockout didn’t respond right away. Instead he gracefully knelt to the ground, his digits gentle as they brushed along the fragile grass of the forest floor. A moment went by, and then another.

Wildbreak was about to ask if Knockout wanted some time alone, to have his space while he mourned Breakdown, when finally Knockout spoke.

“It’s my fault, you know.”

“What?” Wildbreak blurted, his ridges furrowing with confusion. “But you weren’t even here, right?”

“No, but I’m the reason he was here in the first place,” Knockout insisted. The cold detachment of his voice was starting to get to Wildbreak. His vents huffed. “But you don’t want to hear about that. Just go back to the road and I’ll find you in the morning.”

Wildbreak’s spark quickened its pulsing as he took one step into the clearing.

“Do you want to be alone?” Knockout didn’t respond to that, so after a moment Wildbreak gathered his courage and said, “Th-then I’ll stay. And you can talk, if you want to. Or not. I don’t mind either way.”

A small bunch of grass was plucked, ripped away from the ground strand by strand.

“It’s not a happy story.”

Wildbreak’s chest grew tight with knowledge his spark couldn’t share with him.

“I kinda figured that much out.”

After a long moment, Knockout dropped the grass in a pile.

“I had done so well to keep him from becoming cannon fodder. Once I had him as my assistant, I could keep him from the worst battlefields and out of the general command line of unfeeling generals. Sure, it became harder once we arrived here and had high command ordering us around directly, but I was so sure we could make it. The war had to be almost over. I saw the finish line and ignored all the signs.”

“Signs?”

“Megatron didn’t care about Breakdown,” Knockout stated, and while his tone was still cold, there was a fury beneath it making itself known.

Wildbreak’s spark clenched painfully. “But he was a part of the team here on Earth, so Megatron had to care at least a little, didn’t he?”

Knockout snorted dismissively and bitterly.

“When Breakdown got captured by some filthy humans, Megatron did nothing about it. Starscream of all mecha was the one who finally went to get him, and he had to do it behind Megatron’s back, lest he anger our leader by saving his own soldier. And by the time he did, the Autobots had already gotten there and done the job for him. The Autobots rescued him before his own faction bothered to!”

Clawed digits dipped into the dirt, dragging shallow gouges into the patches of green.

“And the worst part was that Breakdown wouldn’t let himself be angry. He wouldn’t even let me replace his optic, insisting it was a reminder of his failure, as if it was all his fault and he deserved what happened. As if somehow through apologies he could convince Megatron to care!”

Knockout’s frame shook as his voice grew.  

“And I let him. I knew that Megatron didn’t and wouldn’t ever care, but I let him keep that despicable patch and we stayed with that despicable mech because I was so sure we were on the winning team, and Breakdown paid the price for it!”

He grew silent then, for just a moment, crouched and trembling with emotions that Wildbreak couldn’t name from where he stood. Wildbreak was caught between wanting to say something and dreading that saying anything at all would cause Knockout to realize what he was admitting and clam up. Knockout was always so swift to change topics when his own emotions slipped through.

When Knockout finally spoke, it wasn’t as cold as before, couldn’t detach itself from emotion, but it was softer again.

“And then that horrid human took his frame from me. Took it and corrupted it to house his weak fleshy body, and he walked right into the Nemesis like he deserved a place with us, and Megatron let him. He let that – that abomination in Breakdown’s offlined frame try to earn his way into the Decepticons.”

Wildbreak’s optics went wide, shocked when his spark didn’t pulse with familiarity in response. For the first time that night, it didn’t know what Knockout was talking about at all, though his spark still twisted tight enough to make him nauseous at the thought.

“And I still stayed. After it all, I still stayed.”

Wildbreak wasn’t sure when he had started moving, but soon enough he was kneeling in front of Knockout. The mech was so hunched over that Wildbreak couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but there were drops of cleanser dripping to the ground and Knockout’s vents hitched with every ventilation. His servos were caked with dirt where he was crushing the ground beneath them.

“I made that abomination scream for weeks,” Knockout confessed, sounding bitter and ashamed. “I called what I was doing experimentation, but it was torture and we all knew it.”

“I mean, that’s not that weird,” Wildbreak tried to reason. Wildbreak wasn’t good at comforting, had so rarely been shown that sort of affection and his team would have never accepted it, thinking it made them look weak. So he just followed the prompting of his spark and placed his servo on top of Knockout’s where it was piercing the ground. “You had to get it out of you, and it’s not like you coulda done it to Megatron or something.”

A wretched chuckle escaped Knockout.

“Spoken like a true Decepticon.”

Wildbreak didn’t understand – he had seen time and again that mecha lashed out at weaker ones when they couldn’t fight the cause of their frustration. His teammates certainly always did. That was normal, wasn’t it?

Were – were Autobots not like that?

Knockout’s digits finally unearthed themselves and Wildbreak further wrapped his servo around Knockout’s, squeezing it. He wasn’t sure if it was for Knockout or himself anymore.

“It still doesn’t sound like it was your fault.”

That surprised Knockout enough that he looked up, and Wildbreak’s spark ached at the thick lines of cleanser streaking down his face and how his features were tight and twisted with grief and hatred.

“Breakdown died because I didn’t want to defect. How is that not my fault?!” Knockout hissed.

“I mean, you can’t control everything,” Wildbreak said, aware that his voice was strained around the tightness of his intake. “Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to. Or even if you convinced him and had defected, you can’t know for sure something bad wouldn’t have still happened, right? He coulda died anyway.”

“But if I had just--!”

“You don’t know that!” Wildbreak insisted, his hold on Knockout’s servo tightening. “And thinking ‘bout it isn’t gonna change nothing.”

“But—!”

“Breakdown wouldn’t’ve wanted you to blame yourself.” Wildbreak had meant it to come out as a question, to end it with ‘would he?’, but his spark roared that it was a fact.

Knockout looked stricken. His optics were wide and his jaw was slack and his cheeks were still wet with tears. Then, slowly, his face crumpled.

When Knockout’s free servo reached up to grasp Wildbreak’s arm as he ducked his helm, frame rattling with a sob, Wildbreak let himself be pulled forward. Knockout’s tears felt as if they were burning against his neck.

Wildbreak held him tight and let him cry.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s ok,” Wildbreak said, shuffling closer when Knockout tried to pull away. He had long lost track of time, not sure when they had arrived so he had no beginning marker, but it had been a while. The heavy wailing had tapered off soon enough, but it was the lingering hiccups and relapses that took time for Knockout to work through. And even once it was finally over, Knockout had kept himself curled against Wildbreak, helm ducked, until his ventilations had finally slowed to normal.

Now, after it all, Knockout lifted his chin, and it was only because Wildbreak was looking for them that he noticed the dried residue on his cheeks.

Wildbreak’s digits itched to rub the lines away.

“Are you ok now?”

“Was I ever?” Knockout asked sarcastically, the smirk that came with it weak. He shifted, accepting the closeness that Wildbreak was trying to maintain by simply settling onto his hip instead of his knees, his frame still leaning against Wildbreak but now against his side. Knockout’s helm flopped against Wildbreak’s shoulder. “But yes, I am better now. Thank you.”

“Oh, uh, it’s no problem,” Wildbreak said, unsure what else he could possibly say. The physical closeness he could at least handle, keeping his servo on Knockout’s shoulder, doing his best to comfort. Wildbreak was still uncomfortable being in the clearing in a way he couldn’t describe, but it was obvious that Knockout needed to stay a while longer, and Wildbreak could live with the discomfort.

“You know, I can’t even remember the last time I said his name out loud before meeting you.”

“Really?” Wildbreak asked, optics widening as a flustered heat started to build around his spark.

Knockout nodded, his helm rasping against the armor of Wildbreak’s arm as he hummed, “Mm-hm.”

“Didn’t you talk to anyone after it happened?”

“Who would I have talked to?” Knockout asked. “I was barely a step above Breakdown and only because I had medical skills. And, frankly, that never kept them from treating me like a punching bag when they needed one.”

Wildbreak couldn’t imagine a mech as handsome and charming as Knockout being so alone and abused, but the evidence was there clear as day in the bitter curl to Knockout’s lips.

“But uh, Dreadwing, right? He was the guy who told you the coordinates?”

“Because he was the only one amongst them who had a shred of decency, but he was blindly loyal until the day Megatron shot a hole through his spark.”

Wildbreak winced.

“One of the vehicons?”

That got an amused huff out of Knockout.

“You sound just like him sometimes.”

With a throbbing pulse of his spark, Wildbreak turned to look at Knockout fully. Knockout seemed just as surprised at the words that came out of his mouth, his optics staring straight ahead as he lifted his helm off Wildbreak’s shoulder, not daring to meet Wildbreak’s optics.

“What I mean is Breakdown got along with the vehicons,” Knockout said, clearly trying to hide how his plating heated where it met Wildbreak’s, “and he always wanted me to get to know them better. They honestly would have been my best choice. I think they missed him too.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Knockout shrugged.

“It took years before I let Breakdown in past my charming exterior. How could I have possibly let myself appear weak in front of some mecha I had only known for a few months?”

“You let me.”

It was hard to tell who was burning hotter where their plating met.

“Yes, well,” Knockout stammered, looking down to pick dirt from between the plates of his digits. “You’re easy to trust, I suppose. You don’t have a dishonest strut in your frame.”

“I lied to Motormaster to come with you,” Wildbreak admitted, and that just made Knockout smile.

“I’m honored to see I’m such a good influence on you.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know, I know,” Knockout said as he peeked at Wildbreak out of the corner of his optic before returning to his digits. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this so you’ll have to forgive me.”

“What d’you mean ‘this’?”

“Being honest, opening up, all that nonsense,” Knockout said. He flicked his servo to scatter some of the dirt and debris that had come loose. “It just doesn’t come naturally to me.”

Wildbreak’s ridges knitted together as he replied, “But you’re – you’re good at talking.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Wildbreak. I am well aware of that.” Knockout finally looked at him again, flashing him a gorgeous grin, and it was only because of the circumstances that Wildbreak realized it was completely fake. “I know how to charm mecha. I just never got the hang of actually connecting with them.”

With a frown, Wildbreak asked, “You haven’t made any friends with the Autobots?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Bumblebee’s old teammates are shockingly lovely,” Knockout admitted as the exaggerated smile started to fade a bit. “And I’m sure they would love to hear all about the trauma I have from having spent most of my life as a Decepticon, and that’s why I’ll never tell them. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. Not when they don’t understand what it was like.”

Wildbreak remembered the anxiety he had felt when telling Knockout about his life with the Stunticons, the fear of judgment that ultimately never came.

“So you told me ‘cause I’m a Con.”

Finally the smile faded to a small, gentle curl of Knockout’s mouth.

“That’s a part of it, I suppose.”

Wildbreak’s spark raced in his chest, anxious and hopeful at once.

“And?”

Knockout’s ex-vent was amused sounding as he teased, “Greedy for compliments?”

“Is that bad?”

“Quite the opposite. Which means I’ll have to reward you with an actual answer, won’t I?” Despite his tone, Knockout’s optics returned to his digits, oddly shy as he looked for any dirt left to be picked out. Wildbreak waited as Knockout cycled a ventilation. “You really do remind me of him sometimes.”

And just like that, the racing of Wildbreak’s spark shifted from what his processor could understand to something that just resulted in errors.

“You mean Breakdown?”

Knockout nodded. “Sometimes you say things, or smile a certain way, or laugh just right, and it’s uncanny.”

TELL HIM.

“Am I that much like him?”

“No. I mean, you’re sweet and too honest, and the paintjob similarity is almost scary,” Knockout replied as he flicked a few strands of grass from between his joints. “But you’re also like me in that you’re a coward. And I mean that as a compliment – I wish Breakdown hadn’t been so eager to run helm-first into a fight. Though you are even more trusting than he was which is honestly shocking and something I’m going to try to get you to break the habit of.”

TELL HIM. TELL HIM.

“Besides, most importantly, Breakdown’s offline. I’d say that’s a rather important detail.”

TELL HIM. TELL HIM. TELL HIM. TELL—

“Well, maybe I’m like, a reincarnation, or something weird like that,” Wildbreak stammered, anxious and hoping against hope that it would make his spark stop threatening to break out of its casing.

Knockout stilled. Even his ventilations stalled.

And then air whooshed from his vents.

“You’re giving Primus far too much credit,” Knockout insisted as he turned to look at Wildbreak. There was something almost comforting in the way his servo grasped Wildbreak’s arm. “Coincidences are just that.”

Coincidences didn’t explain the way Wildbreak’s spark ached.

Coincidences didn’t explain the way Knockout had hesitated.

But then Knockout reached his servo out to cup Wildbreak’s face.

“And I like you just the way you are.”

The ache of Wildbreak’s spark was, within seconds, utterly overwhelmed by the rush of flustered glee. Wildbreak could feel a smile tugging at his lips as he said, “Aww, shucks, Knockout. You mean it?”

Knockout snickered at him, but there was with nothing but warmth and a fondness in the way he looked at Wildbreak.

“Primus, you’re adorable,” Knockout murmured, and Wildbreak’s temperature skyrocketed, no doubt hot against Knockout’s servo and wherever their plating met. “Of course I mean it.”

“I-I like you too,” Wildbreak blurted. It felt like his spark was pulsating out of control, and it felt like it was all his, no weirdness he couldn’t understand, no mystery. Just Wildbreak and his feelings and Knockout’s ever growing smile. “I mean, that was probably pretty obvious, but I figured I should say it.”

Knockout’s thumb stroking along Wildbreak’s cheek had his vents hitching.

“I had figured that one out, but it’s still nice to hear. Though,” Knockout drawled as he leaned that much closer, “I haven’t been able to quite put my digit on the way you like me. Are you looking for a guardian? A friend? Perhaps even a lover?”

Wildbreak’s cooling fans whirled to life as his frame finally burned too hot, and his face twisted with shame.

“Oh, n-no, I would never – I don’t expect you to like me that way, ‘cause I know you loved Breakdown, so you don’t have to worry about any of that. I’m happy with what we got.”

Knockout’s optics were wide with surprise. Slowly though the surprise faded to leave him with the small, sad smile that always came with talking about Breakdown.

“I hadn’t realized I was that transparent. But you’re right,” Knockout admitted softly. His servo was still cupping Wildbreak’s face, keeping him from looking away. “I did love him. I still do, and unfortunately it seems that I’ll never be able to stop. I--” Knockout trailed off, optics flickering down for a moment, the corners of his lips tensing as he ex-vented heavily. “I miss him so much.”

“Knockout--”

“But he’s dead,” Knockout interrupted definitively, optics finding Wildbreak’s again. “I can love and miss him all I want, but he’s still dead and I’m still alive and so fragging lonely.”

Wildbreak’s spark ached with a regret that wasn’t his. And this time, the pushing of his spark was softer. Quieter. Begging instead of demanding.

Tell him. Miss him.

“You shouldn’t be lonely,” Wildbreak murmured honestly. Knockout huffed and his digits stroked the side of his helm.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not when I’m with you.”

Kiss him.

Wildbreak’s spark was finally in complete agreement with his processor for the first time that he could remember.

It was only when his mouth met Knockout’s a little too hard that Wildbreak realized what he was doing, and the muffled noise of surprise from Knockout mixed with the sting of impact caused embarrassment to race down Wildbreak’s lines as he jerked back.

“S-sorry, I’ve never – I don’t really know how to--”

Knockout chuckled.

“Hush,” Knockout murmured as his servo slipped behind Wildbreak’s helm. “You just surprised me.”

“But I really don’t know how to do this good.”

“That’s alright. I’ll teach you.”

When Knockout leaned in it was softly and gently, lips warm against Wildbreak’s. He couldn’t help gasping quietly because it was so nice, so unlike anything Wildbreak had ever felt, but also familiar in a way that had his spark pulsing with warmth.

Knockout’s digits trembled against the back of his neck.

Wildbreak pulled away again, concerned as he asked, “Knockout?”

Knockout’s digits tightened, though there was still a subtle quiver to his grasp.

“I haven’t done this since Breakdown,” Knockout confessed.

“Oh.” Realization of where they were and just what they were doing hit Wildbreak and he felt guilt bubbling in his tanks. “Y-you don’t have to do this then.”

“Of course I don’t. But I--” Knockout glanced away then, abashed as he pulled further back. “But it’s hardly fair that you need put up with my—well, all of this.”

“I don’t mind.” Knockout’s gaze met Wildbreak’s again, surprised, and Wildbreak shrugged weakly. “I mean it. I really don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.”

Crimson optics flickered and for a moment Wildbreak swore he saw cleanser welling up in them.

And then Knockout was suddenly pushing up to his pedes, tugging at Wildbreak’s servos, insisting, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m sure I can find a better place to show you a proper first time.”

Wildbreak easily let himself be pulled since he was eager to leave the clearing behind. Every step away left his spark lighter.

And then when Knockout finally stopped, whirling around, Wildbreak had only barely managed to keep from barreling into him. An apology was already on its way out of Wildbreak’s voicebox when Knockout’s servos braced against his shoulder, helping him find his balance.

As soon as Wildbreak had his footing, though, Knockout slid his arms around his neck and leaned in.

And Knockout was kissing him again. This time it was more insistent, desperate and passionate. Wildbreak’s processor stalled so he followed his first instincts as he embraced Knockout and tried to keep up, to kiss back even if it was clumsy.

And his spark finally settled in quiet contentment.

Wildbreak didn’t question how his digits knew where to slip past Knockout’s plating and stroke sensitive receptors that had Knockout gasping against his lips.

“Beginner’s luck,” Knockout had teased as he shuddered, plating flaring to give Wildbreak room to sink in further for deeper nodes. “But Primus, don’t stop.”

Wildbreak didn’t question that with the awe that came from staring up at Knockout in pleasure – handsome face all the more beautiful for it and his frame so gorgeous and tempting that Wildbreak’s engine purred without his permission –there was also a moment of déjà vu.

And Wildbreak didn’t dare question the flicker of confusion when Knockout was knelt between his thighs and could still reach his lips for a kiss.

“How do you want me?” Knockout murmured against his neck, nipping a fuel line that had Wildbreak gasping as his back arched.

“I-inside me. I don’t think I’d – hahh – be good at spiking.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll learn,” Knockout insisted as he pushed up to his elbows, bracketing Wildbreak’s helm, and watching with bright, eager optics as he rolled his hips. With another gasp and tremble, Wildbreak’s panels shifted away, desperate and unable to control himself, weak against the pleasure. “I’ll show you by example.”

It was teasing, Wildbreak knew that, and he should have tried to tease back, or laugh, or anything to maintain that lighter mood – but instead his servos clung as he turned his helm, trying to find Knockout’s lips to kiss again as he whined, barely louder than an ex-vent, “Please--!”

Wildbreak didn’t question any of it because he desperately didn’t want to think anymore. About spark troubles or reincarnation or who he might have been; about his team or lingering injuries or the boss who gave them to him; about the terrible intersection that begged the question if Wildbreak was just going to live through the same mistakes and someday offline like Breakdown had – at the hands of a leader who would never truly care about him no matter how hard he tried.

He didn’t want to think about any of it.

Wildbreak just wanted to be here, now, with Knockout.

Thankfully, Knockout didn’t deny him. Knockout kissed him, and Wildbreak didn’t even know how many times they had kissed, or if he was any good at it now, but it was still soothing. When Knockout was kissing him, everything felt like it would be alright.

Knockout kissed Wildbreak as he slowly pushed inside him. And Knockout kissed him until Wildbreak’s frame was ready for him to move. And still Knockout kissed him while Wildbreak shuddered and bucked and clung to him as they fragged, choked by the overwhelming affection of his spark.

Until the wet drops hit Wildbreak’s face.

His optics onlined slowly, confused in the haze of pleasure, and that’s when Wildbreak saw the source. He pulled away from the kiss, panting against Knockout’s lips, managing, “K-Knockout?”

Knockout immediately jerked to a halt, his optics onlining quickly as shame crossed his handsome face. There was no mistaking the tears that were escaping or how the way his cooling systems heaved wasn’t just from their interfacing. He pushed up onto his servos, stammering, “Scrap, I’m sorry--”

“No, no, it’s ok! You don’t have to say sorry,” Wildbreak protested, reaching out to keep Knockout from retreating further and trying to tug him back in. “Should we stop? I didn’t mean to push you if you didn’t want to--”

“It’s not that,” Knockout insisted, scrubbing at his face with one servo, clearly embarrassed. “I do, and you’re fine, you’re so good – Primus, I--”

“You what?”

A fresh wave of cleanser spilled down Knockout’s cheeks as he murmured, “I didn’t think I’d get a chance to feel like this again.”

Wildbreak would swear his spark was swelling, filling his chest until it was choking him, and still pushing harder as if trying to reach further. It couldn’t reach though, not the way his servos could, pulling Knockout close while he pushed himself away from the ground, moving to hold Knockout as close as their frames could allow.

“I love you,” escaped Wildbreak, spark and processor in agreement, and he felt the way that Knockout shuddered and his hips rocked.

“Don’t say that.” Knockout’s optics were wide and wet but his servos grasped Wildbreak tight, like he never wanted to let go, and his spark was pulsing so hard that Wildbreak felt the vibrations of Knockout’s chest against his own.

Wildbreak kissed Knockout, shifting so he straddled Knockout’s lap, took Knockout inside again as they both gasped at the pleasure.

“I love you, Knockout.”

Knockout kissed Wildbreak, picking up their rhythm again while clutching at each other.

Knockout still had tears streaming down his face and Wildbreak was desperately ignoring the the déjà vu that came with telling Knockout he loved him. But he wouldn’t have asked to be anywhere else doing anything else with anyone else.

So Wildbreak let himself drown in Knockout’s kisses and the sound of his name – “Wildbreak, frag, Wildbreak” – on Knockout’s lips.

[verdigrisprowl]

Dec 16 Odothon Part 5 - DS9 S4E1 part 1

Prowl sneaks his avatar over during a break at work to see half an episode. Mainly, Prowl and Soundwave wrap up their discussion from the night before.

FakeProwl 10:34 am *ping. it's breaktime at work. can he see another episode?* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:36 am *Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. He needs a break from his own work, in all honesty. Laserbeak can take over downstairs.*

(txt): Second floor lounge. FakeProwl 10:39 am *a ping of acknowledgment, and a moment later he appears. There isn't as much set protocol for the second floor lounge, where should he sit? same seat where they talked about cephalopods?* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:39 am *That works. There's only a couple of seats up there anyway, since it's just for Soundwave and his bunch instead of a clubful of mechs.*

*Soundwave nods hello.* FakeProwl 10:40 am *a nod and a permission ping, and he takes the seat.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:40 am *Soundwave will get right on with it, then, as they're both limited on time.* FakeProwl 10:41 am Hypothesis: this is a training exercise with Odo in case of changeling invasion. Ha. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:43 am [[Correct.]]

[[Before the tape proceeds much further...]] *Quiet for a moment.* [[He apologizes. He does not know everything you think. He should not assume he does when he should be listening.]] FakeProwl 10:45 am ... Our conversation last night was truncated prematurely. I didn't consider that the end, that's just when I had to leave for work. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:45 am [[That is a comfort.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 10:47 am [[He will try to correct his error, if you are willing to continue it.]] FakeProwl 10:49 am For the record—the question of whether the perfect law enforcer could avoid ever having to kill in the line of duty is absolutely irrelevant to the question of whether anybody but a perfect enforcer should be serving.

{{S4E1 The Way of the Warrior - Part 1}}

ItsyBitsySpyers 10:50 am *Nod.* FakeProwl 10:51 am ((that's unhygienic)) FakeProwl 10:54 am The idea is stupid. There's no such thing as a perfect enforcer. Or a perfect anyone else. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:54 am [[Agreed.]] FakeProwl 10:56 am *... Odo can make a cup out of himself and drink it. Now there's an idea.* *Hey, when other people are eating, what if Prowl makes a cup and—* *... prowl doesn't know how to make a cup. never mind.* ItsyBitsySpyers 10:57 am [[But if you know that, why do you focus so intensely on the simulations? To be fully prepared?]] FakeProwl 10:58 am Like I said. It's a mathematical question. Like the four color problem; it may have infinitesimally small practical value but it's a curiosity I want to solve all the same. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:59 am [[...The what?]] FakeProwl 10:59 am *his optics light up* You haven't heard of the four color problem? It's a fascinating bit of— No. If I get started on that we'll never finish this conversation. Remind me about it later. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:59 am [[It is noted.]]

((netflix pLEASE)) FakeProwl 11:01 am I think you expect that if I conclude that it is possible to end every single encounter without death, even if some of those scenarios take a thousand years to find a peaceful solution for, then every single enforcer who has ever failed to find that illusive peaceful path deserves to be fired on the spot. You seem to think that concluding perfection is mathematically possible means imperfection can never be allowed to do the job. That's—stupid, impractical, and counterproductive. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:03 am [[That was the impression he'd picked up, yes. That unacceptable is as it sounds, permanently.]] FakeProwl 11:05 am No. To say that the killing someone who could have been spared is NOT unacceptable is to say that it's acceptable. And I refuse to believe that that's true. ... Your deployers died at some point. I'm sure you spent a long time thinking about what actions you could have taken differently in order to protect them. I'm sure you found many things you could have done otherwise that could have kept them alive. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:06 am *Oh, that's a low blow. But a valid one.* FakeProwl 11:06 am Did those discoveries make you believe that you should never attempt to protect deployers and minicons again? Or did they spur you to do ever better? FakeProwl 11:08 am *on another note; points at the screen.* The Klingons have the right idea. Search everything and everyone. The Federation should be doing the same. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:10 am [[Every day for several million years. Though he never found an answer for Ravage's.]]

[[He did not think himself worthy for a long time. There were opportunities to work with more, during the war. He did not take them. Not until he gained experience in the multiverse.]]

[[But... he did eventually agree to take them on again and do better, yes.]] FakeProwl 11:11 am *nod* And that's what these thought experiments did for me. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:12 am [[Do you still run them?]] FakeProwl 11:13 am Not lately. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:14 am [[You never wonder how war events would have played out differently?]] FakeProwl 11:15 am *LAUGHS* Wh-what makes you think I don't? ItsyBitsySpyers 11:15 am *Startles slightly. That was unexpected.*

[[You just said that you haven't done so lately.]] FakeProwl 11:16 am The war hasn't been on lately. Anyway, I thought you were asking about, specifically, the police scenarios, not scenarios in general. I always run scenarios. Every single time I sleep. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:19 am [[We are in a place where there are multiple versions of our planets in different stages of war - or none at all. It could be useful for them.]] FakeProwl 11:20 am And when I run into them, I tell them the scenarios I worked out millions of years ago for their specific stage of the war. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:21 am [[Ah. You do not run them now because you finished them back then?]] *That would make more sense.* FakeProwl 11:24 am They're never "finished." But they've long since reached a stage where the returns would not be worth the energy put into them compared to the returns I could get from running other, more immediately pertinent scenarios. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:26 am *Nods.*

[[He understands.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 11:28 am [[We will hold this tape here. His break will be over soon.]] FakeProwl 11:28 am ... One more thing. I also think that—that you think my thoughts on all this are... contributing factors, in why I decided not to accept Starscream's job offer. They're completely irrelevant to that decision. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:33 am [[You aren't wrong. But if they aren't relevant, then he is at a loss as to what the real ones might be.]]

[[And he will admit to wishing you would speak to him about it, but,]] *quiet vent* [[he cannot force you to do so.]] FakeProwl 11:34 am *looks down at his hands.* I know that... you would like to change my mind. I'm sure that was driving your comments yesterday evening. *nods toward the screen.* I strongly suspect it's the primary motive behind this, too. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:36 am [[Partially. He thinks it has something to say about eliminating all of one's people to prevent atrocities as well. And, on a more sentimental note, he thought you might like to see stories about someone so like yourself.]] FakeProwl 11:40 am And here I thought the sentimental note was just the bait to get me in here. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:43 am [[He is supposed to be the head of both intelligence and security, but he can't lead the second by example and he does not know how to reward or punish them in a manner that will not push them to fear or corruption. He isn't the right mech for that work. It is proving impossible for him to shape them into the force the should be.]]

[[And he does not trust anyone else to be as capable of it as you.]]

*Soundwave folds his hands and leans back.*

[[Perhaps a little. But if you are at least pleased to see those stories on a personal level, then the others might be forgiven.]] ItsyBitsySpyers 11:44 am *Another vent.* [[But we've talked too long again. He can't keep you from your work, as much as he would like it.]] FakeProwl 11:45 am *sigh* Well. It got me here. Optimus always says it's not walking into a trap if you know that it's a trap. ... Of course, we had to drag Optimus out of a lot of traps. FakeProwl 11:46 am *quietly isn't commenting on the rest of what Soundwave said. If he thinks PROWL is the right person for the work, he is severely overestimating Prowl's leadership abilities. And there's more reasons than just... well. whatever.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:48 am *Even if he's not a leader. If Soundwave's stuck in that position, fine, but having someone to point to as a model might help. But he won't say that either.*

[[The one thing the Decepticons could always count on.]]

[[Go on. He will see you again soon - if you still want to continue these. It really is a fascinating war.]] FakeProwl 11:50 am I do, yes. And you promised me he gets better at his job eventually. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:51 am [[He thinks so.]] FakeProwl 11:51 am You know what times I'm free. *A farewell ping, and he disappears.* ItsyBitsySpyers 11:52 am *Soundwave heads back downstairs. The music won't wait forever.*

[transformersmistakes]

How about each Starscream you know?

Oh boy…this is going to be a looooong one. Starscream is actually my favorite Transformers character no matter what continuity he is in. (Well…I don’t care much for what the writers did to him in Energon. THERE WAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL THERE THAT WAS WASTED)

So I guess i’ll put this under read more since this is going to be a long post. 

put a fictional character in my inbox and I’ll answer these questions on them

~G1 Starscream~

1) fight them or fight for them

B O T H

Listen…Starscream is a shit head. He has done horrible things, and I know that G1 is a black and white 80s cartoon, but I really feel that Starscream would make an excellent grey character (I know he kind of is in Armada…and it almost seemed like he would be in Prime and I think he is in the comics(?) but I NEED this). I have a lot of headcanons and feelings about G1!Starscream in general. I do not really want to go into them here, but if anyone wants to know i’d be happy to talk about them!

I also feel like there are times where Starscream needs a talking to (I won’t physically try to fight him, but I would try to argue with him), but it also seems like no one listens to him and everyone needs someone to confide in. 

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

1 0

3) would i smooch

Ye

4) have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I still cannot art, but yes I have written about him before and I would absolutely LOVE to take the G1 episode Fire In The Sky and turn it into an arc for Starscream and Skyfire. I would also like to try to write G1!Starscream as a grey character and give him a redemption arc(??????). So he would probably leave the Decepticons at some point and be on his own but he’d help the Autobots if there is something in it for him. (I dunno, I have i d e a s) He might join the Autobots eventually….but it would take awhile. 

~Animated Starscream~

Good ole Spongescream. 

1) fight them or fight for them

Once again i’d have to say both. 

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

1 0

3) would i smooch

Ye

4) have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I think I tried to write something for Animated!Starscream years ago. I can see myself writing about him in the future though. (Maybe a story where he is a ghost?)

~Armada Starscream~

1) fight them or fight for them

I WOULD FIGHT FOR THIS STARSCREAM 100%

He deserves the best. 

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

I want to say 10 again. lol

3) would i smooch

Ye

4)  have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I have never written anything for this Starscream. I think his story is perfect and I feel like changing it would just be a disservice to his character. It has also been years since i’ve seen an episode that isn’t Cramp so I feel like i’d have to watch the show again before writing about anyone from Armada. 

~Energon Starscream~

1) fight them or fight for them

I would not fight Starscream at all. He does not deserve the shit he was put through in this sequel. So I would definitely fight for him. 

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

7, probably.

3) would i smooch

Ye, y not?

4)  have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I have never wrote anything for Energon!Starscream, but I would write a fanfiction for him in a heartbeat. (Honestly, if I was more productive, and motivated i’d just rewrite Transformers Energon)

As I typed previously, I feel like Energon!Starscream has so much wasted potential and I hate how his character was pretty much wiped from Armada. (I am not a biiig fan of amnesia stories…especially when they are done like this) I think he should have somehow got his memories back, or the Autobots should have done something. (HECK, I THINK ALEXIS SHOULD HAVE HAD A BIGGER ROLE IN THIS SHOW. HER FRIENDSHIP WITH STARSCREAM WAS INTERESTING AND ADORABLE AND HEARTBREAKING)

~Cybertron Starscream~

1) fight them or fight for them

I don’t really remember much about Cyberton, but I do remember being very very confused. (Probably because Cybertron is not supposed to tie in with Armada and Energon. The show was supposed to be its own universe or rewrite, but who cares. The English dub tied it in anyways.) I’d probably say both for this Starscream as well? 

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

Probably a 10? I think he was a lot like his G1 counterpart? 

3) would i smooch

y the heck not?

4)  have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I never wrote anything for Cybertron!Starscream and I probably won’t? 

~Bayformers Starscream~

1) fight them or fight for them

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I am not sure. Given his stupid death in Dark Of The Moon…I could probably fight him, but that does not mean I want to. I’m not sure if i’d fight for him either though. 

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

I’ll give him…a nine. 

3) would i smooch

Sure.

4)  have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

Uh…I once planned to write a fanfiction where the Transformers films weren’t just films and Linkin Park were actually working with the Autobots or something. I think I planned to have the seekers attack a concert? So,yep! I kind of wrote about Bayformers!Starscream before!

~Prime Starscream~

1) fight them or fight for them

I would probably argue with this Starscream, but not physically fight him. I think he deals with enough in this show. (I mean…he gets his aft kicked by Miko if i’m remembering correctly) I’d probably fight for him. He goes through enough.

2) on a scale of 1-10 how excited do I get when I see them

1 0

3) would i smooch

Ye.

4)  have I drawn/written about them/should i draw/write about them

I have never wrote anything for Prime!Starscream before. However, I’ve seen some excellent fanfictions for him. (If anyone is interested in a redemption arc for him. I know of a few fics) Maybe if I ever start actively writing i’ll write something for him one day. 

[entropic-introspection]

TFA Rung looks, if possible, even more harmless that MTMTE Rung. So my brain immediately kicked up the thought that “Hey, nothing is that cute without ulterior motive.” Followed closely by “That is a very Decepticon thought,” and rounded off by “Well, it’s not like TFA Rung has any sort of backstory anyways.”

So, how Rung was er, adopted by the Decepticons and what came of it, a story in ? parts and without a title because this was so much simpler and shorter when I started 0w0′

The Autobot in their interrogation rooms looks very small.

“He’s tiny,” Megatron says bluntly. He is new to his position as leader of all Decepticons, still recovering from the wounds he received from Megazark. He’s not allowed on the front lines until they heal, but he is still an intimidating force.

“Yes. This is why I do not trust him,” Strika says. She is less new to her position as a general, and while she trusts Megatron enough to support him in his coup, she is also going to be keeping a very close eye on him until he proves himself an adequate supreme leader. It is the Decepticon way, so he tolerates her with something like wry amusement. “Small bots make excellent spies.”

Megatron nods thoughtfully. “One could say that bright orange bots, less so.”

The Autobot in question lowers his head to his bound hands, then raises it again to reveal that he has removed his glasses. His spindly fingers are attempting to wipe off a smudge, with little success. He frowns, a small portion of his glossa poking out of his mouth.

“And detached mechanical aids for eyesight are generally not considered to be good for field work,” Megatron adds. He crosses his arms, winces, and drops them again.

“You need to let the doctor check your shoulder actuator again,” Strika says, still apparently absorbed in watching the Autobot. “And I think he is a spy.”

“The doctor can do nothing for it that isn’t already happening,” Megatron says. “He can’t be a spy. He’s too...” he searched for a word.

“Unremarkable?” Strika offers with heavy irony. “Unnoticeable, for all that he is bright orange? We nearly forgot we had him, until it was time to clean the cells. We cannot place his alt mode, but his root mode has a large number of hidden pockets.”

“Really?” Megatron asks, intrigued. “I wouldn’t have suspected he had the room in a frame like that. What did you find?”

Now it is Strika’s turn to cross her arms. “Sweets, mostly. Not poisoned. A few small ship models, partially assembled. Blank datapads, of the sort suitable for note taking and drawing.”

“Ah, truly a dastardly arsenal,” Megatron intones gravely. “With that, he might win over our youngest warriors.”

Strika scowls; her face is naturally cast for it, but you can tell when she is making the effort. “You jest, my lord, but I rather fear that. While those outside his proximity tend to forget him, those in the process of talking to him find him... likeable.”

“Likeable,” Megatron repeats.

Strika looks at him, annoyed. “Do not take that tone with me. You are in the position you are because you are ‘likeable’. Ah!” She raises a finger to cut him off. “There are many other factors, yes, but beneath it all, a ‘likeable’ leader is one who will ultimately draw others to his causes. Call it charisma, if likeable so offends you. But our likeable little ‘bot there has an unnerving habit of convincing my hardened Decepticon warriors to start talking to him about. Well. Anything.“

“Likeable,” Megatron says with disdain, but he chases it no further. “Strika, you are a brilliant commander.”

“You only say that when you follow it with a ‘but’,” she says warily.

Megatron nods to her. “I should remedy that, but for now: I believe that our likeable, forgettable fellow is, in fact, a non-combatant who seems to be a plausible spy due to a certain overlap in skills.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When you mentioned that people tend to forget him, I looked over the previous interrogation transcripts. His very first sentence is, ‘Hello, I’m Rung, a psychologist. May I know your name?’ That, and he currently seems to be beating his head against the table and muttering ‘Psychologist, not spy’.”

Strika rolls her optics. “WE WILL ASK FOR YOUR OPINION WHEN WE WANT IT,” she bellows into the live mic feeding into the room, making Rung jump. She mutes the mic and turns to glare at Megatron. “So perhaps you are right. What do we do now?”