#functionism

[askvectorprime]

Where do the names "Autobot" and "Decepticon" even come from? Are there any sort of root words that go with them?

Dear Etymology Enthusiast,

This answer is complicated by language barriers that span galaxies. As Galvatron alluded to—albeit in tones I would never use—Cybertronian words can be very linguistically dense; a translation that conveyed every nuance of our equivalent for "Autobot" would take over seventeen minutes for a human to say! As such, "Autobot" and "Decepticon" are only approximations of the neocybex names of these factions.

In many universes, my faction is named for the ideals of freedom and autonomy—hence, "Autobot" is derived from the term "autonomous". Sometimes this reflects a casting off of Quintesson rule or triumph over a caste system, but in other contexts—sometimes simultaneously—it reflects a darker facet of Cybertronian history. A famous bot once said that autonomy was a gift, a spark of sentience kindled by Primus himself. That bot's name was Nova Prime, and he used that belief to justify the subjugation of hundreds of alien worlds.

The suffix translated as "-bot" encompasses ideas such as "person", "individual", "independent agent". It could be considered an adaptation of the common English-language "man", of course—you might be familiar with the Aerialmen, the Dinomen, and the Sparkamen—but "bot" conveys that it most commonly refers to mechanical lifeforms. While typically used in the names of teams and factions, occasionally an individual might be called "Dinobot" or "Dreadbot"; such sobriquets can be seen as similar to a human being carrying a family name as their first name, such as "Jackson".

As for "Decepticon"… much has been said of the phrase "you are being deceived." In many universal clusters, this is indeed the earliest origin of the term. "Decepticon" suffers to a greater degree from the imperfections of localization. In many universes, Cybertronian language uses nuances related to subject and object that fail to translate, especially when neologism is concerned; "Decepticon" principally suggests "deceptive" in English, but in its original Cybertronix, the waveform can simultaneously be read as "the deceived".

The "-con" suffix is not dissimilar to "-bot", though it carries subtly but significantly different implications. "Person" is an adequate translation, but its meaning is much broader, not being restricted to living creatures; you may know of data-cons, information storage devices commonly used in my home reality. The closest equivalent to the suffix in your language would be "entity"—or, more bluntly, "thing". As such, the translation "-con" is derived from your language's "construct", a created object or idea.

The reasoning for the use of this suffix varies across the multiverse. On versions of Cybertron where Functionism took hold, Cybertronians of lower labor castes, or with alternate modes considered fit only for use by others, were more likely to have "con" names or be assigned categories like "Constructicon", "Agricon" or "Recordicon". Conversely, in universes where the Decepticons originate as a military junta, the use of "-con" carries the suggestion of component; all Decepticons are considered to be a part of Megatron's war machine. These implications, of course, carry over to the Mini-Cons. While I am proud to count Safeguard as a friend and partner, for much of my world's history, Decepticon and Autobot alike treated his kind as "smart tools", as mere objects to be collected. Regardless, the Great War created extreme political polarization of the "-con" suffix, and nearly no self-described Autobot adopts it; even as Decepticons freely use "bot" to describe themselves, "con" is almost exclusively used by Autobots as a term of animosity.

One more suffix you may have heard of is "-tron"; here, the root is "positron"—which, before the introduction of microscope alt-modes, we simply understood to be the stuff of sparks. The Cybertron factions of realities like the G1 World and BT World draw their names from a well of indigeneity; unlike the invading, colonizing Quintessons, the Cybertrons are the true sparks of the planet and derive their name thus. The Destrons, then, are destructive sparks who oppose the planet. Naturally, "-bot" and "-con" recur in these worlds too, following similar etymological patterns.

[cityzenshark]

You know what else would be a gut puncher to the Terrans? Them finding out that Cybertronians in general are extremely racist to organics and segregate bots based on their alt-mode and function.

Since Earthspark tried to make itself IDW1-ish lets assume their Cybertron is similar to it.

The Terrans excitedly talk about wanting to go to Cybertron and meet all these cool stuff that were mentioned in the comics and history books. But whenever they ask Bee, he gets uncomfortable. Bee asks OP, Elita & Megs what should he tell them if they ask if Cybertron would accept the new sub-race.

Telling the truth will be hard, but it had to be him. Bee is their teacher after all.

"Bumblebee, would Cybertron like us Terrans?"

"... No. No, they won't."

Bee had to tell them how bots as small as Twitch and Thrash were once considered as "property", how bots who had Hashtag's ability are "valuable assets", how mechanimals like Nightshade and Jawbreaker are belittled and ridiculed. If they know the Terrans are techni-organic, some might want to "study" them and many couldn't care less about their wellbeing because anything organic are not sentient -- let alone alive -- in their optics.

The Terrans might think humanity's fear towards Transformers are bad enough, then they were told about Cybertron's prejudice towards their own natives, and rebelling that normality only lead to a fate worse than death.

Although the war had destroyed the oppressive laws, some still held on to them like their lifeline.

[prima-after-dawn]

Function: Pleasure (AO3 link)

TFO Sentinel Prime X Femme Cybertronian Reader

Word count: 3,063

Tags: sticky sexual interfacing, sex work, oral sex, rough sex, light Dom/sub, aftercare, NO SPOILERS

Summary: Sentinel Prime isn’t the best berth partner…but that’s YOUR job, and you take your job seriously.

Sentinel Prime steps into his opulent private suite, Iacon Tower's grandeur reflected in its golden surfaces. His blue optics scan the empty, quiet space and he lets out an irritated vent. He needs this reprieve from the solar cycle’s tiresome politics. He struts over to the large couch in the living room and sits heavily, leaning back with his thighs spread wider than is proper for a Prime.

     "Airachnid," he calls out.

     The imposing spider-like bot emerges from the shadows, her purple optics glowing with silent acknowledgment.

     "Fetch me the most exquisite pleasurebot from AutoExotic."

     "As you wish, Sentinel," she murmurs.

     She swiftly exits the suite, leaving Sentinel alone with his thoughts.

     Sentinel's optics trace the intricate patterns engraved into the floor and walls as he waits. His processor conjures up images of the delightful high-class creatures from AutoExotic, his flight engines purring in response to the ideas of what he could do with them.

✨✨✨

The door to the suite slides open and Airachnid enters, her movements not quite silent. In tow is a stunning vision of gold and purple, a standard-framed femme who radiates an aura of decadence.

     You.

     "Your requested pleasurebot, Prime," Airachnid says before slinking away.

     You step forward and lower yourself to kneel before the Prime, your plating gently flaring out.

     “Sweetspark, at your service, my Prime.”

     Sentinel Prime’s gaze sweeps over you, appraising you as if you were a fine piece of artwork. His optics glow a little brighter.

     “Stand,” he says with a gentle wave of his servo. “Tell me, Sweetspark, what is your specialty in the art of pleasure?"

     “Your desire is my specialty, Prime,” you say softly as you stand. “I am a trained switch, ready to adapt to your wishes on command.”

     His optics narrow, his armor ruffling slightly.

     “Indeed?” He purrs, leaning back against the couch. “I’ve had many who claim such versatility…only to disappoint. Prove your worth, Sweetspark. Give me a taste of what you can offer.”

     You nod and step forward.

     “As you wish, my Prime,” you purr.

     Your optics narrow to sultry slits as you lower yourself to your knees between Sentinel’s strong silver thighs in one slow, gracefully suggestive movement. Not daring to touch him with your servos without permission, you lean forward and nuzzle his inner thigh, your engine purring as you trail sensual, reverent kisses along his plating towards his interface panel.

     Sentinel watches you, his gaze narrow. As your warm ventilations ghost over his armor, he remains the picture of calm, his posture unyielding. He leans back a little further into the couch, crossing his arms over his chassis.

     "Proceed," the Prime commands.

     With a low hum, you nuzzle up to his interface panel. Then, you look up at him with adoring optics and extend your glossa, giving his panel a broad, slow lick from the bottom to the top.

     Sentinel draws in a quick vent. He watches you, his chassis rising and falling slightly faster. He uncrosses his arms, letting them rest comfortably on the back of the couch.

     You purr at his reaction and lick him again before pressing a kiss to his panel. “I crave your pleasure, mighty Prime. Won’t you let me serve you?”

     "Very well," he says, keeping up his unaffected appearance except for a soft blue glow creeping onto his faceplate.

     His panel clicks and slides open with a clank, allowing his partially pressurized spike to extend.

     With a light blush of your own, you keep your optics on him as you lean in to nuzzle and lick his spike. You trail kisses up the golden plates adorning the underside of his royal blue shaft, purring as you coax him to full pressurization.

     “You have the most magnificent spike, my Prime.”

     "Flattery, Sweetspark?" He asks, trying to maintain his cool demeanor despite his spike's eager responses to your gentle ministrations.

     You hum, leaning up to give the tip of his spike a soft kiss. “If it is not to your liking, Prime, then I shall refrain from praising you.”

     "Don't be absurd,” Sentinel scoffs, his lips curled into a smirk. “I live for flattery.”

     You smile up at him and lick a broad, slow stroke up the underside of his spike, only this time you wrap your lips around the tip when you reach it. You caress the sensitive slit with your glossa, then slowly push your helm down, moaning softly as you demonstrate just how easily you can take a spike into your mouth, even one as long and thick as Sentinel’s.

     The Prime watches you, his optics narrowing in pleasure. He can't help but let out a low groan of satisfaction. His servos tighten slightly on the couch’s back, but he otherwise maintains his outward composure. Even so, you feel him growing harder, his spike reaching its full potential, eager for more.

     Everything you do is with purpose, your focus solely on your beloved Prime’s pleasure. You keep your servos on your own thighs as you service his spike, your helm bobbing up and down while your glossa caresses the underside of his spike. You moan again and take him deeper, deeper, until the helm of his spike is down your throat and your lips are pressed flush to the base.

Sentinel’s optics widen as the pleasure builds within him. Your mouth feels like heaven, your oral skills certainly unmatched by any pleasurebot he's ever encountered. He watches you, venting rapidly as he fights the urge to thrust into your throat. The way you look at Sentinel, your optics full of admiration, makes him feel like the most powerful being in the universe. His groans grow louder.

     You keep your sultry optics on his as you suck him more intently, swallowing around his spike to deliver a dose of pleasureful pressure.

     The Prime’s optics widen at the sensation, and he can't hold back a low, guttural groan. His spike twitches in your mouth, throbbing eagerly.

     "Ah, Sweetspark," he vents. "Your talents are indeed...exceptional."

     You smile around his spike and suck harder, moving with renewed eagerness as you taste the sweet, tangy flavor of pre-fluid leaking from his spike.

     Sentinel’s frame tenses, his vents hitching. He reaches out and grasps the top of your helm.

     "Faster," he grunts.

     You obey immediately, moving your helm up and down with urgency. You moan, sending a burst of vibrations through his spike as you continue to suck him off.

     The blue and gold mech groans, lays his helm back against the couch, and thrusts lightly into your mouth.

     You moan again at his little thrust, your gaze encouraging when you look up at him once more.

     Encouraged by your response, Sentinel Prime grips the sides of your helm with both servos and begins to thrust firmly into your mouth, his own mouth falling open with a deep groan.

     You take him with an ease granted by experience, your optics sliding shut. You’re more than happy to let him frag your mouth to his spark’s content. This is what you’re good for, what you were forged for.

     The feeling of your throat tightening around him is the final straw, and with a an embarrassing noise followed by a loud shout, Sentinel Prime reaches his peak. His servos grip your helm tight as he holds you down to his base, his spike jetting hot transfluid directly into your throat.

     Any other pleasurebot would have gagged on such a tall order, but you keep your throat relaxed and swallow, steadily drinking down everything Sentinel gives you. His overload is intense, his spike pulsing as he empties himself until he lets out a final groan of satisfaction and releases your helm. Panting heavily, he presses back against the couch, his legs stretching out on either side of you and then relaxing with a clank of his peds on the floor.

     You stay put for another moment, enjoying the way his spike twitches with the final spurts of transfluid. Once he’s finished, you slowly pull off of his spike, purring and licking it clean as you set your brightened optics back on his.

     Sentinel’s optics blink open, and he looks down at you. He runs a servo over your helm in a gentle pet.

     "Well…that was quite the performance," he pants.

     You hum, the praise sending a shiver of arousal through you. “Have I proven my worth to you, my Prime?”

     "Indeed, you have, Sweetspark," Sentinel purrs.

     He stands, his towering form casting a shadow over you as he reaches down to gently grasp your chin.

     "Now, let's continue this delightful experience in my berthroom," he says, letting go of your chin and striding towards the adjoining berthroom.

     You stand and follow him, licking the last traces of his transfluid from your lips. The berthroom is already set to a soothing dark blue lighting, the large, plush berth made with a luxurious assortment of golden pillows and soft metal mesh sheets. You glance around, admiring the immaculate golden walls and the well-kept trophies and artworks adorning them. A large mirror hangs above the helm of his berth, taking up an obscene amount of space on the wall.

     “Your berthroom is so lovely, Prime,” you purr. “It is truly an honor to serve you in the privacy of your suite.”

     Sentinel nods. He turns to face you, his spike still semi-pressurized.

     “Please,” he says with a dismissive wave of his servo, “in here, call me Sentinel.“

     You tilt your helm curiously, but don’t question. You just smile and nod.

     “As you wish…Sentinel,” you purr, giving his name a suggestive edge.

     He watches you from the side of the berth, his spike slowly returning to full pressurization.

     “Come here, Sweetspark,” he commands.

     You rev your engine softly and approach him, your optics locked attentively on his.

     With a gesture that speaks of absolute authority, Sentinel Prime points to his grand berth.

     "On your chassis, Sweetspark," he purrs. "Let me show you how a Prime appreciates his shareware."

     You’re quick to obey. You crawl onto the berth and lower your chassis, staying on your knees so your aft is in the air. You look back at Sentinel and bite your lip, wiggling your aft at him.

     The Prime’s optics brighten as he takes in the sight of your raised aft. He steps closer and notices the tiny streaks of viscuous purple from the lubricant that's seeped out of your closed interface panel.

     “So eager for your Prime’s attentions?” He asks, his voice a low, aroused growl.

     Sensing your Prime’s presence behind her, his optics on your aft…it’s all so intoxicating. You let a soft whimper escape you, leaning into his dominant demeanor.

     “Yes, Sentinel.”

     Sentinel Prime leans over you, his servo gliding down your spinal strut and over your aft to rest on your interface panel.

     “Open,” he orders.

     You carefully back up towards him as you allow your panel to slide open, only stopping once your knee struts are on the edge of the berth. You clench your valve, moaning softly as a gush of lubricant drips out of you.

     Sentinel admires the view of your slick valve, his spike twitching with interest.

     “Mmm,” he rumbles, “what a pretty bot you are.”

     He steps closer, placing one servo on your hip and using the other to align his spike with your entrance.

     Had he been any other client, you would have suggested that he prepare you first, but you wouldn’t dream of trying to correct Sentinel Primeon how to properly interface. So, you just spread your legs wider and grip the sheets.

     His servo on your hip tightens as he guides the tip of his spike to your waiting valve. He presses forward with a gentle but rushed firmness, venting at the wet heat of your frame’s embrace.

     "So tight," he grunts.

     Your mouth falls open in a gasp as his shaft immediately stretches your valve. You moan for his pleasure, dutifully ignoring the discomfort that comes with unprepared penetration from his larger frame type.

     “Yes, Sentinel...”

     You glance over at the mirror. Sentinel Prime is watching his own reflection in the mirror, a smug look on his faceplate as he observes his spike sliding into your valve. His servo leaves your hip to caress his own chassis, his engine purring as he admires the sight of himself mounting you.

     You wince when he pushes fully into you, but manage to replace any pained noise you might have made with an erotic, dramatically feminine moan.

     Sentinel starts to move, his spike sliding in and out of your valve with a steady rhythm. His gaze locks onto the sight of his spike disappearing into you and he groans, his frame shuddering before his thrusts quicken.

     You force out a moan on every languid thrust, but you can’t help but let out an airy chuckle between them as you watch him watch himself.

     His rhythm falters slightly, his gaze snapping to the back of your helm.

     "Is something amusing, Sweetspark?" he asks, stilling his hips.

     You gasp and lower your helm to the berth, a deep blush creeping onto your faceplate.

     “N-no, Sentinel,” you whimper. "You're just so...so handsome..."

     Sentinel’s spike stirs within you. He slowly leans over you, his servos sliding down your sides and firmly grasping your hips.

     With a smugness that's almost endearing, he purrs, “I sure am.”

     He slowly pulls his hips back until only the helm of his spike remains inside you, then slams back in.

     “AH-hah! Oh! Sentinel!”

     You tighten your grip on the sheets, moaning as the brief jolt of pain fades into a pleasureful ache.

     Sentinel’s smirk widens as he watches your reaction, his hips rolling against your aft in a sensual rhythm that’s not nearly as pleasurable as it is punishing.

     "Your screams are music to my audios, Sweetspark," he growls.

     You let out a pitifully desperate moan as he grinds into you, rubbing your faceplate into the sheets in imitation of a preening gesture.

     "Look at yourself," he commands, flight engines revving. "Watch me take you."

     “Ahh…”

     You turn your helm toward the mirror, your optics narrow in half-real pleasure as you obediently observe his reflection.

     Flight engines purring, he tightens his hold on your pelvic armor and sets a vigorous pace, his spike sliding in and out of you with the slick sounds of your lubricant.

     "That's it," he grunts. "Watch yourself be claimed by your Prime."

     You moan louder and squeeze him with your valve, drawing a staticky groan from his vocalizer. You know you aren’t ready to take the roughness his larger frame type is capable of, but you also know your client will enjoy being encouraged, and right now, you’re on duty.

     “Ohh, Sentinel,” you moan loudly. “Yes…! Claim me harder…!”

     Sentinel’s gaze returns to the mirror, a deep rumble emanating from his chassis as he watches you perform for him. He slides one servo up your back and pins you down by your shoulder, leaning over you. His hips piston into you faster.

     "Oh, yeah," he pants. "Show me how much you want it!"

     You writhe under him, clawing at the berth and making a vocal show of your pleasure.

     “Ah! Ah! Yes! Ooh, yes, Sentinel! Please, more!”

     His optics brighten as he watches himself in the mirror, plunging into your valve with increasing force.

     "Your screams only make me harder, Sweetspark," he growls.

     You continue to moan and cry out for him, your armor flaring to dump the heat from your frame. You arch your back and push against his thrusts, taking him deeper. Your optics squeeze shut and you pant heavily between your desperate cries for his spike. Finally, he was getting you close.

     “Sentinel! I’m- ahh! I’m gonna-!”

     "Overload," he commands, his voice a dark, demanding growl in your audio receptors. " Now ."

     You let out a loud, drawn-out moan and squeeze your valve around his spike, boosting the stimulation as he ruts into you. Your frame goes rigid and you overload, purposefully ensuring that your scream of ecstasy is loud enough to be heard even by the two guards stationed outside of the Prime’s suite. Lubricant gushes out around Sentinel’s spike, easing his thrusts despite the constriction.

     Sentinel thrusts into you one final time and hits his peak with a triumphant roar. His grip slightly dents your hip and shoulder armor, but it’s fine. His spike jets hot transfluid into the depths of your valve and he groans softly, his armor ruffling as his frame relaxes with the relief of his tension.

     You mewl pathetically as you feel his transfluid dripping from your valve before he’s even finished. You knead the berth with your servos as you relax, a soft moan escaping you between heavy panting.

     Sentinel Prime finally tears his gaze away from the mirror, looking down at you. He takes a moment to admire the sight before pulling his thick spike out of you with a wet slide of metal on metal that drags another quiet moan from your lips. He steps back, his slowly depressurizing spike glistening with your combined fluids.

     "I think I’ve found my new favorite piece of shareware," he rumbles.

     You take a moment to catch your breath, then carefully push yourself up and turn over to sit on the edge of the berth. You blush at the sight of your lubricant mixed with the Prime’s transfluid on the berth, your thighs, and his spike. You gaze up at him with adoring optics.

     “It is a delight to serve you, Sentinel.”

     He hums in agreement. He steps back, giving you a moment to recover. He runs a servo over his own heaving chassis, smoothing his plating down from its flared position. He frowns when his gaze reaches the mess on his thighs. When he sees you preparing to slide off of the berth, he gestures to the berthroom door with one lazy servo.

     “You are dismissed,” Sentinel says, already walking toward his private washrack. “You may use the guest washrack before you leave. Airachnid will give you my payment information.”

     The door slides open, making you jump and your panel snap shut. Airachnid stands just outside, her multi-optic gaze locked onto you as you walk out of the berthroom. She looks you up and down and, without a trace of emotion, points down the hallway.

     “First door on the right.”

[poetnix29]

Blind fruit.

A fruitful future,

Yet as this apple falls,

We are only consumed and tortured,

Is this really the future that calls?

Tell me if this is the purpose of our creation,

If so, it is also to be wasted away,

We are merely play things for another's reason,

Lies are the words you they say.

Can't we be more?

A certain something to be found,

Don't you too wonder who your acts were for?

You, like everyone else, are not safe and sound.

This fruit cannot only be consumed,

If left for too long, it will rot,

Don't inhale their toxic fumes,

Let me repeat, is this the future we all sought?

(More info under the cut.)

Megatron tries to reason with Optimus about the purpose of their onlining.

The classic crop of pity.

Though, it seems both fruits have different intentions.

[bellowsmith]

some quick doodles of an humanformer functionist au I keep forgetting to work on. The main gist is that it more or less politically resembles the functionist universe in every way except they're A, human, and B, it's sort of based on America during our own civil rights movement in the 1960's. Except, instead of resulting in the Cybertronian war, Megatron was arrested and executed before he was able to start the revolution. So Starscream ended up more or less running things with Damus as her right-hand man after they escaped jail together via Damus' outlier abilities. They trauma-bonded and are now trying to piece together exactly how to overthrow an entire government except they go about everything wildly differently than Megatron because Starscream operates wildly differently and Damus isn't exactly soldier material. Their solution since violence didn't seem to work was instead collective resistance and malicious compliance. Starscream worked her way into the Senate and is making bureaucratic movements hell on earth for the Functionists while Damus fell ass-backwards into musical fame and being the face of their resistance movement. He's still very much a zealot and loyal to a fault, but because Starscream never groomed him into blind devotion the way Megatron did their relationship is wildly different.

[themenyearnforchickensoup]

I KNOW it's more of me being insane, but seeing the Royal Guard, and how the overseers all look alike and the different background characters in Transformers One made me think of how functionism worked during the Primal era. How the structures of power were already unbalanced.

Sentinel didn't help, actually he made it worse, but can you really shift all the blame on him when it was already a flawed system of exploitation? Can you shift all the blame on him when you can see that Functionism already existed and was highly enforced?

[tech-obssessed-shark]

TRANSFORMERS REFERENCE IN MY PSYCH BOOK NOT CLICKBAIT?1?!?

[eeriansadowtwopointoh]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Transformers (IDW Generation One) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Minimus Ambus (Transformers), Megatron (Transformers) Additional Tags: MiniMegs Week 2024, prompt: lecture, Bigotry & Prejudice, Alternate Universe - College/University, functionism Series: Part 3 of MiniMegs Week 2024 Summary:

Minimus is late for class.

@minimegsweek

[barbelo-babe]

one bot’s Functionist Council is another Matoran’s typical societal and biological structure.

[overlordraax]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassettes & Soundwave (Transformers), Megatron & Soundwave (Transformers) Characters: Soundwave (Transformers), Cassettes (Transformers), Megatron (Transformers) Additional Tags: Pre-War, Inequality, Poverty, Functionism (Transformers), Surveillance, Gladiator Megatron (Transformers), Origin Story Summary:

As a Host Model, Soundwave is tasked with recording and archiving the complete history of Kaon. It is a role he has been consigned to since his creation. However, as he further documents the inequalities of life in the city he starts to wonder about his role in life and whether there is more he can do.

Especially when a prominent gladiator rises to power...

(Originally written for the Slice of Cybertron zine)

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime,where do Cybertronians that have animal auto modes or non vehicles auto modes fall in the Functionism cast system?

Dear Form Factionalist,

Unfortunately, most ‘bots with animal forms fell quite outside the bounds of Functionism! Following the disappearance of “Onyx Prime” from Cybertron at the end of the First Cybertronian Civil War, those beast-formers who had already not left the planet wound up largely excluded from the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, disparaged as little more than “throwbacks” from a primitive age. Initially, most beast-formers simply rejected Nova Prime’s burgeoning society and left to continue their life in the wilderness as they always had—hunting turbofoxes, foraging for natural energon deposits, and marking their territories. Elders who had lived through the reign of the Primes passed down traditional knowledge to younger ‘bots, who raised cairns and mounds to memorialize an era of peace and prosperity they’d never known.

With the passage of time, however, Cybertronian society continued to urbanize, pushing these last holdouts into smaller and smaller tracts of untamed land. When it became clear that these hardliners would not surrender their territory, Nominus Prime and the Senate passed legislation that would formally recognize a number of beast-form genera into the growing Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy—a legislative tactic that quite annoyed the Functionist Council!

Unfortunately, most beast-formers occupied a very low rank on the Functionist hierarchy. Within the bounds of “polite society”, the best that most beast-formers could hope for was a job at one of Cybertron’s many research and development firms, where beast-formers would be regularly used as test subjects for new surgical techniques, various addictive drinks, or new forms of electronic paint. A few, such as Krok, deliberately removed their transformation cogs and joined the Militant Monoform Movement in an attempt to distance themselves from their origins.

However, other beast-formers found lucrative jobs in Cybertron’s criminal underworld—some, like Scorponok, became frightening enforcers. Others operated black-market relinquishment clinics, catering to those rare Cybertronians who wanted to experience the forbidden thrill of experiencing life as a cybercat or lupinoid.

[nightmare-from-heaven]

Hey. Your brain needs to de-frag. Literally it needs you to sit there and space out.

If you want your memory or executive function to improve, stare out a window at the skyline or sidewalk or trees or birds on the electrical wires for like 20+ minutes per day. (With no other stimulation like a podcast or TV if you can manage but hey baby steps innit). If you're fortunate enough to have safe outside with any bits of nature, go stare closely at a 1 meter square of grass and trip out on the bugs and shapes of grasses and stuff.

Literally this will make you smarter. Our brains HAVE TO HAVE this zone out time to do important stuff behind the scenes. This does not happen during sleep, it's something else.

That weird pressurized feeling you get sometimes might be your brain on no defrag.

Give your brain a Daily Dose Of De-Frag.

[poetnix29]

Misplaced Rights & Revelations

I should have known,

That we would fall,

And we were prone,

To the lies they told.

They said that we were blind,

Blind from our goals for equality,

But they just ignored our cries,

They were blind from their idiocracy.

You promised us our peace,

We gave you our trust,

You returned placebos as our dreams,

And waited for the lowest to crumble into dust.

(More info under the cut.)

-Inspired by 'Towards Peace' by the one and only Megatron.

-Functionism.

-Are we surprised? No. Are we angry? Terribly.

[omegasmileyface]

realizing that sticking to the "do it bad" "do it scared" mentality implies theres also a "do it bored"

[some-pers0n]

How it feels getting obsessed with something new and then realizing you're going to spend anywhere from a week to the rest of your life thinking about it