#old mech is already old and already so done with everyone

[delicateartisantrash]

Excerpt: Gladiators of Kaon

I'm agonizing over this chapter but that's okay because it's fucking HILARIOUS and ENDEARING and my SIDES. I'm not nervous who's nervous

but also

also shenanigans only Soundwave's little gremlins could get up to

(Sneak peak scene below the cut)

You’re still struggling to process this. You’d been prepared for shenanigans, but this-- this is something else entirely. His Sparklings made a magnesium flare bomb. His Sparklings made a magnesium flare bomb. His Sparklings made a fragging BOMB while their distracted Sire was out visiting your glowing aft across town. No fucking wonder he wants someone supervising them while he’s away, and somehow, you highly doubt he trusts any of the mechs downstairs to do it. Case in point: his Sparklings made a fucking bomb.

[cozzzynook]

TFA idea

Bumblebee returns to base holding one large sparkling of course he quickly explains to both Ratchet and Optimus that it's not his but he found them abandoned in a old building while on patrol. After a quick check up the bittie is given a clean bit of health and Bee decides since he found them he has to take care of them, much to Optimus being worried that Bee might not be ready for the responsibility.

However a couple of weeks later the large sparkling is thriving as they let out cheerful giggles when ever Bumblebee pulls a silly face or tickles their pedes and tanks, it makes everyone smile and Optimus can't be anymore proud.

:>

Bee making everyone proud by being able to take care of a sparkling he found and he’s happy to do this since it feels so natural and familiar to him. But not for the reasons the others might guess.

I like to headcanon tfa bee with angst and make him older. It adds ✨ flavor✨ to his character.

- Bee is so good with sparkling’s because he used to live in a sparkling center on the ruined sides of cybertron.

- bee came from the low class of bots who roamed the wreckage of Cybertron because they were not allowed among the populated cities due to being a mix of sub cybertronians.

- autobots do not take kindly to decepticons, seekers, jets, those with outliers, insecticons and beastformers.

- bee is half insecticon but he keeps his wings hidden. He’s able to keep Ratchet from going anywhere near them during private medical exams since the doc bot is not an expert on insecticon cna and therefore would cause more damage than good should he take a look at them.

- really, its just against insecticon culture to have a non-flying mech take a look at ones wings so closely, even if they were a medic.

- Bee is so good with sparklings because he helped raise so many during his sparklinghood to the days he became a young mech and left the sparkling center.

- bee’s creators were long offline and he couldn’t remember what they looked or sounded like. All he knew was that he inherited his carriers wings and insecticon traits and his sires ability to transform into a car.

- bee lets his wings free during this very patrol and thats how he was able to find the little sparkling.

- they were left in the high tops in hopes of a flier spotting them.

- he flew towards the bitty and the sound of his wings humming was able to lull them to recharge after calming them down.

- he knows what its like to have no creators and he knows what its like to take care of a bitty and focus all his attention on their needs instead of his own.

- he acted childish because he wanted to enjoy the childhood he never had. He just didn’t tell the others any of this since he’s actually very private. The only one who knows is Bulkhead and Bee knows his best friend won’t say anything.

- bee is excellent at taking care of the sparkling. Having a recharge and fueling schedule that impresses everyone along with being able to wake up a few nano-kliks before the sparkling does late at night so he can keep the night cries to a minimum.

- bee can already smell and see the signs the bitty is a seeker and he looks in the first places where color comes in to see if the bitty is one of the cons on Earth but to his findings they aren’t.

- to make sure he’s right he does a thorough scent test and shows the bitty freeze frame video clips of the cons stationed here and gets no reaction.

- bee wonders what a stray seeker was doing here so far out from cybertron or one of their other colonies but he soon gets his answer when Sentinel shows up bragging about shooting down two seekers who tried to flee.

- bee figures out pretty quickly what happened and just snaps.

- sentinel is left on the floor leaking energon with his chin broken off and his frame twitching by the time Bee is done with him.

- none of the others can say anything and they just stand there in shock as Ultra Magnus just gives bee a warning on learning to control his anger while Ratchet grimaces because he doesn’t want to help Sentinel but he has to.

- Ultra Magnus understands very well that Bee is by old law still in his rights to do such a thing since Ultra Magnus knows Bee is older than perceived. He also knows Bee came from the harsher outsides and that both outlanders and the cons held endangering sparklings as one of the worst sins a bot could make.

- Personally, Ultra Magnus feels the same and is not happy with his subordinate not following protocol and detaining the seekers so all this could be avoided.

- Bee meanwhile just carefully picks up his fussing sparkling and goes off to his room where he stays for the rest of the evening.

- Optimus tries to talk with him but Ratchet stops him telling the prime to give him a few joors of alone time with his bitty.

“Its not just you whose the carrier hen around here now Prime.”

“If I’m the carrier hen, doesn’t that make you the grand carrier, Ratchet?”

“Slaggin kids and there smart dermas,” Ratchet grouses as they both walk away.

Prowl doesn’t take the hint, he was listening in from the ceiling, and goes inside to talk to Bee.

Its not really talked about but Bee and Prowl are close. Bulkhead is Bee’s best friend but Prowl is his brother and the feeling is mutual.

—

I want to incorporate the decepticons and blitzwing specifically but i’m not thinking that hard right now lol

[dancingundermoonlight101]

hiiii I love all your little blurbs that show on my fyp your angst stuff hits so well…could I ask for something following Megs’ “death” after the TFP premiere and Optimus struggling to mourn, due to them being enemies and having to keep a brave face? Again, luv your stuff. Have an awesome day.

Optimus had to smile. Pretend he was as glad as everyone else. Had to ignore the bitterness he felt as his teammates, in their own ways, expressed how glad they were over Megatron's death. Feel unending guilt at the fact that he even feels bitter about it. He cares about his teammates. He knows each and everybody has lost something precious at Megatron's, Decepticon's, or at the war's hand. The war they all believe Megatron had started.

They don't know. They don't see. They don't realize what brought uppon this war, and now what Optimus will have to fight alone towards. Megatron represented hope. Hope for a better future, hope for equal treatment to all that the previous system ignored and abused. Hope.. Even so, Optimus doesn't regret disagreeing with the way Megatron wanted to go about things. He just regrets that he and Megatron couldn't have come to a compromise. Couldn't find common ground.

'Now he's dead.'

"He could be alive." Optimus comments out loud.

"Who?" Ratchet asks. Probably hoping to Primus that Optimus doesn't mean-

"Megatron?" Bumblebee beeps out, making everyone else stop in their tracks

"You don't seriously think he's still alive, do you?" Bulkhead adds

"Well," Arcee begins. "Even though it feels like there is no way he could be alive. You have to admit, he has survived worse." She scowls.

The mood of the base drops. Optimus already feels an argument brewing. He decides to stop it before it begins. "We do not know if he is alive or not. Arce is right, Megatron has survived worse. But even so, we must remain alert. We do not know what Decepticons will do with the loss of their leader. Only time will tell if this loss is temporary.. or permanent."

His team nods their helms with serious expressions. All except Ratchet, who is looking at Optimus with a look that says they will have a word about this later.

Optimus can only internally sigh as he walks off after a few more reassuring words. His team also dispersed after that. Ratchet followed after him.

"Optimus! Surely you can't be hoping he's alive! You of all mechs know of all the evil deeds he has done!" Ratchet begins once Optimus stops walking.

"I know all too well, old friend. I still wish things could have gone differently." Optimus admits this small bit to Ratchet. Hoping he of all bots could understand...

Ratchet only scoffs, crossing his arms. "Well, they didn't. Megatron made his choice, and he chose genocide. He chose to continue this war even after what happened to Cybertron! So many were killed because of his choices, Optimus.. You should stop being a bleeding spark for mechs that don't deserve it. Especially for a monster."

Optimus felt a part of his spark break. The small hope he had about trusting anyone with his thoughts was gone, just like that. It's fine. His field is still pulled tightly against his frame. Ratchet won't be able to feel how deeply those words hurt him. Optimus sighs. Trying to regain his composure. "Once again, you are right. Perhaps it is for the best that things ended up like this." The words felt like lead to his tongue. He had to force them out anyway.

"Damn right I am," Ratchet mutters, nodding. About to say something more. But Optimus tunes him out.

...

The Prime finds himself out at night, staring up at the singular moon. Why is he here? He should be back at base recharging. Rarely does Optimus come out at night. But when he does, he likes to drive to a secluded place. A place only he knows of.

"A place that reminds me of you.."

'Megatron.'

"My sworn brother turned enemy. How did things end up like this?"

'You betrayed him. You became a Prime.'

"I didn't wish to become a Prime!"

'A Prime shouldn't think about not wanting to be one. You are a fake. A failure as one. It is an honor and a privilege to fight for the people of Cybertron.'

"There is no Cybertron left to fight for.."

'And for the people?'

"They will always be worth fighting for."

'Then why are you here?'

"Megatron."

'He's dead.'

"He could be alive."

'It would be better if he wasn't.'

"Perhaps.."

'Why do you want him to be alive?'

"I do not know."

'You don't wish to admit it.'

"I wish things could have gone differently. That me and him could have rebuilt Cybertron side by side."

'Why?'

"He was my sworn brother. The Decepticons follow his lead, and I know with his help, no unfair laws could have ever been put in place."

'He was more than your sworn brother. You wished he was more than-'

"He shouldn't have been. That was a mistake on both our ends. We were both foolish -"

'You still love him. You still wished you both were more than enemies. Now he's dead.'

Optimus remains silent. Covering his optics with a servo. "This is ridiculous. I am a Prime. A protector of all life. If these feelings and thoughts are going to cloud my processor. It would be best if I didn't have them at all."

'Are you going to hide from your feelings? Your thoughts? Your memories? What you truthly long for? How many times will you do this, Optimus?'

Optimus paused when his processor conjured up Megatron's voice the moment he opened the folder he had been searching for. Shocked by the sheer amount of data he was hiding in it. One small folder he always forgot about. Was curious over. And always regretted opening again and again. It was all Megatron. Every memory, every thought, every feeling, it was all too overwealming. Optimus felt overpowering grief—

Optimus Prime did what needed to be done, closed, and hid the small, unassuming folder. "For however long I continue to be a leader."

Then he stood. The moon now hidden by clouds. Rain already beginning to pour.

And with that, Optimus Prime drove back to base. To the place that he knew could never replace home.

[fortunelowtier]

One of the things that's always irked me with fnaf lore is how they've already just kind abandoned the Afton stuff and are going into the weird pseudo sci-fi bullshit, despite the fucking angsty narrative GOLDMINE that could be made from Michael Afton alone

Like man fuck whatever they’re doing for the fnaf movie now, I don’t rlly care abt the animatronic side of things, i wanna see the trilogy following this physically and emotionally abused 16 year old struggling with the loss of his sister, his mother, and then causing the death of his brother, then having that guilt stick with him for decades until he’s tricked into wandering into his own fathers facility where he is then gutted like a fish and piloted like a fucking mech by an animatronic spaghetti amalgamation. Only to wake up weeks later as an empty rotting husk on the sidewalk with only one thing in mind, to kill his father and end all of this

He manages to track down his uncle Henry and after months of planning he manages to lure William and everyone else still refusing to pass on into a pizzeria which is then lit ablaze.

We get an entire segment in the final act in the final movie of the trilogy (beginning with Henry’s speech from fnaf 6 cuz that shit is the rawest monologue in gaming history):

William goes out screaming, begging for mercy just as his victims did to him, his plastic shell melting to reveal the flesh and metal beneath it. As Michael feels the flames around him he sits back and accepts his fate, a small semblance of a grin on his rotting, decrepit face. But before he can pass on he sees the ghostly visage of his brother, eyes blackened and shirt still stained with blood as it was on that fateful day. He knows he has nothing to say, nothing that can fix what was done to him all those years ago, so he says the only thing that comes to mind.

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...”

As he breaks down into what little tears his body can produce, the structure of the building giving way as the fire grew hotter and hotter, he expects to have the full wrath of his brother unleashed upon him. In his mind he deserves no redemption, no happy ending, and no forgiveness. Instead, he feels the embrace of a hug around him, hearing a voice he never thought he’d hear again

“I know...“

Michael uses the last of his strength to wrap his arms around his brother, embracing him, as they both are engulfed by flames, being able to die in peace knowing that whatever lied beyond the veil, his father would never see it. It was over.

Reflected on the monitor is a vision of both of them as they were all those years ago, embracing as they are in modern day, almost as a window into what could've been, had everything gone right.

The camera is obscured by flames as it begins to move up, through the flames and through the smoke, “Bonnie’s Lullaby” from fnaf 3 playing in the background. as the song comes to an end, so too does the movement of the camera

cut to black

“Five Nights at Freddy's

The End”

and then nothing else happens because the story is over and resurrecting William is a terrible idea and retroactively would ruin the ending of this (cough cough security breach cough cough)

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[llannasvsp]

"a place to stay" preview

I don't want to wait 24 hours for the poll to end so here is the preview of my current WIP "A Place to Stay". This is about a month after Seabound ends when Lloyd makes the decision to leave the monastery and his old life behind.

...

Lloyd shuddered as he walked down the mountain. A million thoughts taunted him. You have nothing. You are nothing. You did this. You let her down. She’s gone because of you. Nothing he did could shut them out. Everyone leaving made them worse. 

It wasn’t fair. Not for Nya. She had given up so much. Everything. She had given up herself for them. There had to have been another way. If only she had given him a few more moments to think. He had let her down. Now she was gone. She made the choice, but it was because he had failed as a leader. He had let Kalmaar get that far. It would have all been different if he had checked the amulet, or attacked Kalmaar at the island.

Maybe he should have gone for blood.

He reeled back at the thought. His hand gripped the side of the mountain, stabilizing himself from the horrible thought. It wasn’t the first time Lloyd had thought about taking a life, but this time he actually wished he had done it. Even after regaining his balance, he let the thought linger. Before, he would have blocked it out, reminded himself that he was good. He was always good. He had to be good.

No, he wanted Kalmaar to burn. If he wasn’t already dead he’d find him right now and beat him into nothingness. That’s what Kalmaar had done to Nya. His actions lead to her sacrifice. It wasn’t fair.

It was only a few steps more down the mountain. He could’ve taken a mech, but what was the point when all it would do is attract attention? Nya had given herself to the sea only a month ago. Possession? Fine. Let the people swarm him. Getting his heart mutilated and shattered by the one he cared so much about? He could handle that. Being relentlessly beaten and thrown through a wall by the man he once called his father? Sure. 

Losing his sister? He would break. He had broken. 

His whole life was falling apart faster than he could repair it. He looked back up the mountain; the monastery couldn’t be seen from here. So he really had left it all behind. The one constant in his life was now nothing more than an echo of the past.

Lloyd had hoped that the last step of the mountain would give him clarity. That he would know where to go once he reached the bottom. No. There was still nothing. He had nothing.

You are nothing.

The voices that taunted him weren’t wrong. Being a ninja was all he had. The only life he’d had outside of it was petty crimes. He had nothing. He was nothing. No life. No family. No friends. Not now. Not after everything.

Something about this was different. When Zane had died, why hadn’t he quit? Why hadn’t he given up? Guilt struck his body; his neck burned with shame. Had he not cared enough? No. He was distraught. He overworked himself. It was all to get that loss out of his mind. Why couldn’t he do that now? Where was the desire to keep going? He wasn’t supposed to quit. He never quit. 

Oh, but he had. 

He wasn’t going back, either.

[000marie198]

I don't know if anyone else has talked about this already but, oh well!

So anyway, let's talk about the Chaos Council. It's made up of five different versions of Eggman.

Now remember my theory on how all the alternates are basically shattered parts of the original? That they're the aspects of the main characters taken to the extreme? Well, I believe the presence of the Chaos Council proves that theory. Cuz when you notice, there are no alternates of Eggman anywhere else throughout the Shatterverses but there are alternates of everyone else. This means all the Eggman alternates are in one place, aka New Yoke, as part of the CC. Why does that serve to prove that the alternates are shattered parts of a whole? Well, for many reasons but I'm gonna talk about three major ones.

Firstly, something that Mister Dr. Eggman said struck a chord while I was rewatching the premiere episode. While introducing the Chaos Council to Sonic, he said,

"One makes five, five makes one."

This dialogue literally and very clearly hints at them being 5 parts of a whole. A major clue or a foreshadowing if you will.

Secondly, their personalities. They all clearly reflect a certain major trait of Eggman. Introduction wise, Dr. Done-It is an aged man who likes to yell orders and complain.

He is literally, as Sonic would put it, a grumpy old man. That's the part of Eggman which gets annoyed at all the failed plans and groans in agitation and yells at his creations and curses out Sonic. Also the part that keeps urging to get a move on.

Next, there's Dr. Deep.

If his name and mannerisms aren't hinting enough, that's the part of Eggman that sometimes comes up at the end of the adventure when he's standing alone somewhere. The philosophical part, the part that expressed his feelings on Gerald, the part that would sometimes save Sonic because it wouldn't be a victory unless he's the one defeating his opponent. But this is not all, Deep is also the part which holds all of Eggman's battle prowess and drip. In short, he's the right-brained part of Eggman.

As for Dr. Don't, the emo teenager.

This is the guy who points out a clear cut obvious answer instead of dawdling . And he controls some remote features of the headquarters. He's constantly playing videogames and answers questions without even looking up. His brain is probably in constant activity, figuring things out, forming deductions and conclusions. This is the scientist side of Eggman. The one that holds 300 IQ and internally goes, "I'm surrounded by idiots." The one which is unable to get along with anyone because no one can think on his motive and level.

And then there's Babble, aka the angry baby.

One would think why someone like Eggman would have a baby as a part of his personality, right? Well, this baby is the most like Eggman out of all of them. Hear me out! Dr. Babble represents the anger and ruthlessness in Eggman. Babble, out of all of them, is Eggman's evil side. Babble loves torturing his victims and enjoys it, he demands that they harm their opponents and is merciless. Babble represents the part of Eggman that... destroyed the moon (get out of my head Snapcube dubs), unleashed the Metal Virus, Roboticizes mobians, all the mean stuff. And finally, the baby whines, a lot. All of Eggman's whining is squeezed in this one tiny baby.

Finally, the main member, Mister Dr. Eggman.

In my opinion, this guy is the aspect of Eggman that gloats and showboats. The one who gets absolutely smug and giddy if the plans are working, the part of Eggman that lets out those loud evil cackles and monologues. The face, so to speak. He is the part that makes Eggman go overconfident or reveal his plans or manipulates or banters, the part that makes him put his face as a logo on everything, the part that makes him build showy mechs and aircrafts and stuff.

Now that these people are discussed as various aspects of Eggman, let's get to the third and final major reason which indicates why the alternates are aspects of the originals; the Prism shards. When the Paradox Prism broke, it was broken up into five shards; yellow, red, blue, green, purple. There are five shards and five Eggman alternates.

But wait.

Why are there five alternates of Eggman when we have only come across three for the rest of the characters? Why don't the numbers add up? Well, good question. And my theory is that since the Prism broke up into five shards, there should be five sets of everything! Five shards, five Shatterworlds, five sets of alternates. There are already five of Eggman. This means there are still two shards missing and two sets of alternates we haven't seen. We know the purple shard belongs to The Grim because its gateway was purple and its entrance was in the shape of the purple shard. And we haven't seen Rouge's main alternate like we've seen Nine, Thorn and Dread. That's going to be the world where the yellow shard resides.

But this all leaves another mystery. Five shards means five worlds and five sets of alternates, right? We already know about all five alternates of Eggman, we already know the colors of the five shards (Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, Purple), and we know about four of the five worlds while the one associated with yellow shard hasn't been shown in the series yet. That world would contain its own set of alternates. That makes four sets of alternates. What about the fifth? Where are the alternates that, logically, should belong to The Grim? Where are they? Excluding yellow, what happened to the fifth world and its alternates? Where is the purple Shard that is associated with The Grim? What happened to this world and its inhabitants?

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Major Update

The request will be opening soon because I'm down to like the most obscure requests that I'm actually struggling to find photos for. So in preparation of this I have to get a lot of announcements out of the way so this post might make a lot of people angry. Might make some of you happy But I need to get this out of the way before I open up the request again.

Let's start with the things that I know are going to piss people off as of right now. No. Webcomics no. Webtoons. Yes, I do know several webtoons/webcomics have been turned into anime. Those will be allowed but that's because they're anime now. Also no mechs. However, this is just for now. Remember I've only been doing this blog for maybe 3 months. So let me get more into the groove of things before we add on all of those things. So maybe when I've been doing this for 6 months to a year we can start allowing that Web comics, webtoons and mechs but I'm already struggling with keeping up with requests and keeping enough stuff in the queue as is. So I don't want to complicate things even further and make things as easy as I can on myself. Now there is a reason for this because I may be changing jobs soon and I don't want to have to put the blog on temporary hiatus during that transition.

Now on to the next thing and this is probably going to make a lot of people happy but people please do not make me regret this decision. But, after hearing the many lamentations from mostly the Naruto fandom, much personal debate and seeing how a similar blog handles things. I have decided to lower the minimum age for the polls to 16. Now that means minors can and probably will be matched up against each other and against 18+ characters. Please don't come at me about that choice, these characters are fictional. You can't hurt them, and a blog like this isn't going to normalize preying on minors. YES it's wrong in real life, but anime teenagers are not normal teenagers. I literally just finished an anime about a assassin trying to get back to his wife. He was 16 and had a wife I swore he was at least 20 sometimes anime ages don't make sense. Please don't start anything or I will start blocking. But for those of you who don't want to participate in those polls, I will make a special tag so you can block all polls that have confirmed 16 and 17-year-old characters So you can block the tag so you don't have to see it and participate You will be able to find it when I update the rules post in the next day or two when I have everything finalized. Now this is subject to change if people do not behave. So do not start attacking me because I allow this or I will bump that age back up to 18. Do not make me regret this

Now when it comes to requests you have 10 characters and can request up to Four-way matchups. I don't care how you break that down so you can do two four-way polls and a two-way poll or request five two-way polls don't care. Figure it out. I'm pretty sure everyone can do math but the max is 10 characters However, you want to break it down with two-way, three-way and four-way polls.

I'm also setting a limit on how many times you can request a day. Please only do it twice. That's up to 20 characters. So everyone gets a chance to request polls

Remember Six-Way polls are not something you can request directly. They are something I make as a special thing, when the queue leans too much into one character or fandom. However, you can suggest a theme. I have done fire and ice powers. You all seem to like the goth girl and the anime men in suits. You get the idea. You can always put some theme ideas at the bottom of your request. So I can add them to my list of themes that I have saved when I need to make a six-way poll

I think that is all the major announcements So now with these updates everyone can start thinking of the new matchup request because they will be opening up soon and that request box fills up fast

[birthdaycakeplate]

It’s only a year late, Anon, but I hope you find and enjoy this, because I ✨LOVED 💖this request. I really hyperfixated on Optimus being appreciated for once (and being doted on, respectfully). Thank you for making it, you are so good and wonderful for this ask💕 (((I FORGOT TO HIT ANSWER WHEN I POSTED THIS EJWKWKKEKEME, OH MY LORD)))

As a PSA to all the readers, this got WAY out of hand and somehow ended up being monstrously long AGAIN, so-

⭕️ BEWARE THE READ MORE⭕️

(Go to my page and open it there so you aren’t stuck ruining your dashboard and can leave the fic easier)

Warnings in the tags💕

——————————————- 

On a painfully uneventful evening such as this, stuck in a room with bots old and frail enough to evaporate into thin air from the weight of their air headed blather, Megatron was looking forward to doing some private reading later- someplace far away from this mockery of a court with all its prejudice.

This was how the Autobots did things? No wonder nothing ever got done- If Decepticons took this long talking in circles, talking at all, they would have been beaten back by their enemy faction by a sly, cunning leader, too, by now.

Megatron resisted sighing outwardly.

Reading would be such a sweet consolation for having to sit through these nearsighted windbags running their mouths all cycle. If only he could be certain he could survive this with half a processor in tact.

Besides Ultra Magnus’ obsession with flight tariffs in civil frame cities driving Megatron to a powerful processor ache, there was also the matter of this proud, little idiot stood here before him- so enveloped in his own heedless jargon it was threatening to dull Megatron’s logic center, if nobody put a stop to his rambling.

This one’s ego was much too big for him, continuously having to make himself known. He, Sentinel Prime, shouldn’t even be here.

And then the other mech so abysmally out of his depths here -Optimus Prime- was only here at all, because he’d been crowned a hero for having offered these council mechs Megatron’s head on a platter some months ago. Too bad he’d left it attached to the rest of him- Megatron would make sure the Prime would come to regret it by the end of these ‘negotiations’.

If he somehow hadn’t already, constantly being tortured by Megatron instigating his dear, precious Magnus from across the court.

Judging by the exasperated glare Prime sent Megatron’s way every few arguments, and Megatron purposely ignoring his very existence, it was only a matter of time before Optimus caved and would have to excuse himself to collect the necessary patience. And Megatron would watch him go with a smirk, thinking how it was all too bad the little firetruck couldn’t be helped to finally learn his place in this big mech world -far bigger than him- and spare himself this misery.

There was much to be ungrateful for during these sessions, and yet still, probably the most enraging offense on Megatron’s person of all -even keeping company like this, with council mechs considering his rights as casually as if they were discussing the weather- was that the very same bot who’d made a fool of him and delivered him in stasis cuffs to the Auotbot’s mercy kept injecting himself into matters too important for him… on Megatron’s behalf.

Defending a (capable) nefarious warlord in front of the masses like an absolute martyr.

At least so when something truly as appalling as treatment for ground sickness in civilian spaces was disregarded as a priority, and not considered a sanity-threatening emergency, was suggested. Proving that Optimus Prime might be the first Autobot to possess a modicum of honor.

Suggestions as flippant as that quickly became few and far between, as Optimus’ constant pestering was driving everyone up the wall- every Autobot quietly disgusted by the notion of rights for war mechs, anyway. Which appeared to be the entire panel in Megatron’s only slightly biased opinion, as he was sat here before them.

Optimus paid them no mind- had started out quiet and humble, so uncertain of his place here. Appropriately so, if you asked Megatron. But Primus had he found it when Sentinel had suggested ‘docked wings’ on Decepticons who broke the new laws…

“I wasn’t talking first time offenders!” The plow tried to correct, like that wouldn’t burn a hole through Optimus all the same from the sheer, righteous indignity of it.

Optimus, who was rarely ever sat with his aft properly in his podium seat and spent much of the deliberation bouncing around on his pedes, pointing fingers and making wild gestures the more his patience thinned, met his limit then.

“We will never modify their frames in any nonconsensual way, Sentinel! Primus, what is wrong with you!?”

Megatron could answer that question for the little firetruck. These out of touch bigots were terrified of him -despite their proud, ‘fearless Autobot’ front.

They were scared of Megatron and the other war machines, and they’d be wise to hold strong to those insecurities, lest they have anymore ideas of a faction wide extermination that would ascend into yet another eternal war.

It’d be the same subject matter, at least.

Sometimes, it became exhausting keeping up with of all the atrocities that’d transpired between them over the years, and he’d rather like to keep his thumb between the pages, holding his place for when this treaty inevitably fell through and he had to pick up right where he’d left off. Somewhere around escaping prison thanks to idiot, imposter Magnuses to come skewer the real one. 

Even now that things had become slightly more progressive -given they Autobots had been forced to concede to him- there was still the odd daydream of his of striking Magnus from off of his throne. Most recently for making him sign documentation of all the war mech’s in his faction under an ominously familiar act to keep designations on close hand.

How…uncanny.

In fact, Megatron had signed it purely out of his own shock and amusement to see if Ultra Magnus would realize what it was he was resurrecting from the dark depths of their shared history by demanding such a thing.

‘To keep record of everyone entering into the new era of peace accounted for’.

Well, then. How convenient an excuse. Clearly, Megatron wasn’t the only one without a single hope for their unification.

In support of that depressing thought, Ultra Magnus had said little to protest or encourage what his council mechs were offering -pushing- other than when he was strictly needed to make great speeches to quiet Megatron’s kin of their outrage. Often just sat there staring listlessly out over the chaos of council members and Decepticon high command at Megatron’s back, ranting and raving over one another. Looking more and more forlorn, more and more distant.

He must have walked into this as sure as the Earth’s sun that this would be a lost cause. He’d only bothered placating any of this, because the other option was simply to concede and die…

Megatron, to be contrary -despite his own doubts in this movement- was becoming more irritated that Magnus expected him to be such a lost cause. These talks of merging their species a chore and an impossible one…

That Optimus was spurred on all the more by Ultra Magnus’ silence, trying to take the reigns in an effort to lead the others with his boundless, pitiful optimism towards the notion that there was any value to them fighting for this forsaken, ideological future was perhaps a tiny bit comforting. It was, after all, Megatron’s only real source of entertainment during these talks, as Strika had insisted on presenting herself seriously, unwilling to make small talk while Autobot bureaucrats were speaking.

Useless. This was all wasted time, Megatron was sure of it… As sure as Magnus…

Somehow still, he managed to weather an entire cycle more of this undignified dressing down of his rights and quickly stood, eager to push his way out of the chambers first before he could be tethered to another post council scourge where the Autobots fought amongst themselves to push their own opinions upon an absent Decepticon faction. Too self-indulged to realize the underhandedness of such a thing.

Perhaps he should reconsider killing them during another of Magnus’ speeches instead. For the sake of dramatics and some much needed entertainment.

On this particular exhausting cycle, though, Optimus Prime -absolutely fuming- seemed to have the same idea as him about being the first one out of the Council’s logic leeching vacuum. That he was the main cause of said scourging amongst his leaders and peers -and Sentinel, the instigator- allowed Megatron a moment of calm to slow his steps some ways behind him and enjoy the sight of one puffed up Prime getting exactly what he deserved for bringing Megatron onto this cursed planet with a functioning sparkbeat.

He looked ready to kick Sentinel’s podium on the way out, if he were the type of mech to lose his temper Lin such a way.

Megatron remembered the trip back to Cybertron being not at all how he’d imagined it. Beaten, torn to pieces, and struggling to vent, Megatron had seen a fair glimpse of the kind of mech Optimus Prime really was when battle and desperation weren’t marring his processor. 

He couldn’t say he was impressed with a bot with such… he was just so… Optimus was so…

The only way Megatron could describe the humiliating -though enlightening- encounter without sacrificing his ego was to simply say that he hadn’t the opportunity to meet an Autobot Elite as unexpectedly humble and sincere as Optimus Prime before.

How embarrassing to have been beaten by such a bleeding spark…

The little mech cared about… everything. And he cared too much.

Unfortunately, the effort he put into it was quite misplaced. If he could only have the foresight to see who his genuine nature was being expended upon, who was taking advantage of it, he’d have turned to the Decepticon’s for guidance and a purpose.

Not that Megatron wanted him there.

Megatron gave a huff and removed himself from those thoughts, lest he provoke the unfortunate memories that’d came with them -stuck at the mercy of what he’d just discovered at the time to be a Primus forsaken maintenance bot, serving him back his own aft like he’d been doing it for centuries prior.

The discovery had been too humiliating too bare…

His little consolation for everything the Prime had put him through on Earth was that he was still a nobody here. He was spoken over, talked down to by Ultra Magnus on occasion, and largely ignored. Which is what Megatron intended to do himself for the rest of this pretend peace he was forced to serve under.

Pretend Optimus Prime was a bot without an ounce of worth behind his false title, something to be forgotten in the history of Megatron’s millions of years of fortitude and success.

And as he looked down at his retreating figure, hustling towards the doors to rid himself the indignity of todays events, Megatron knew in his spark that this would be the most he’d ever spare in acknowledging the Prime- only enough to delight in his suffering.

He could survive these sessions with that in mind, if it could only have stayed true.

“They don’t seem to know what’s good for them.” The Decepticon, a jet, said blithely. He was standing guard by the entrance on the Decepticon’s floor. That Optimus didn’t bother with his faction’s floor in a means to get out of there sooner was another odd consolation for Megatron against the withering glares from the council mech’s at the tiny fool’s backstrut.

Optimus didn’t seem to pay this mech any mind either.

“No, they don’t.” He snapped back at him, without a single glance at the jet. And yet, there was something there in his tone Megatron couldn’t quite place when he heard it -nor cared to- as he lazily followed behind him.

In the split second the jet had to respond before Optimus was good and gone, stomping and storming off as fearsomely as any ‘Con about triple his size, the guard tilted his helm his way to try and extend the last few moments they had.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Prime.”

To Megatron’s confusion, Optimus stopped. His shoulders losing some of their tension as his helm fell back on a sigh.

“Sorry… I’ll try... And Thanks.”

The jet smiled at him, and from this angle, Megatron could just make out the corner of Optimus’ lip plates tilting upward, returning it.

‘Familiarity’… That’s what it was.

———————————————-

Boredom was about Megatron’s only motivator to look into the odd spectacle he’d witnessed. Waiting for the council room to fill and the doors to close, preparing for another arduous cycle of negotiations, Megatron leant back in his chair, hardly built for his massive size as it was, and hissed nasally into Strika’s audial.

“Who is that?” He cut his optics over at the chipper looking jet.

How dare he not be sharing in Megatron’s crushing despair for having to be here.

“Jou know who jour mechs are.” Strika answered back.

Megatron considered the mech a moment. He was silver and rather tall for a jet. A sleek frame with black indentations up the underside of each wings- one of his more noticeable features. One a Decepticon might think attractive with its cutting edges and sharp angles.

Megatron certainly did know him, granted he’d gone through several reformations since joining the cause.

He tried to remember why.

This jet proved significantly more capable of handling injuries than most other winged mechs of his slender, shorter stature. He’d seen some extensive upgrades, and if Megatron was correct, had managed to deserve each and every one of them under his field commander’s favor.

Oh, right- and Starscream hated him. Pretty to look at, easy to grab, obedient and a good listener, as well as a good fighter. Of course Megatron would have agreed to special treatment like reformations for a mech like that, so long as he was sure Starscream would wind up jealous and bitter about it.

Considering his near civil mech size, this one was a powerhouse -and a good choice for their chamber room guard post then. Not that Megatron could believe a room full of even the most capable Autobot warriors could subdue him without the jet‘s aid.

But that image conjured up another one- the memory of this jet streaking across a scarlet sky with Energon dripping from his wingtips. A splash of it falling down and momentarily blinding Megatron’s opponent before he’d decapitated them.

Saberswipe, Megatron finally recalled. A winged mech who dissected enemies using a unique blend of speed and force. How fitting then.

Megatron didn’t like him…

“He vants to frag Prime.” Said Strika, then. Unnecessarily.

Megatron cuts his optics at her next.

“Maybe he wouldn’t be such an unbearable pain then.” He said rather stuffily.

“Optimus Prime has too much time on his servos to be as meddlesome as he is. He needs a hobby.”

“Like fragging a flighty, pint sized jet?”

“Like fragging himself, more like.” Megatron scoffed, then surveyed the platforms opposite him, looking for said nuisance to come and claim his seat soon, and the pestering to begin.

“Vatch your mouth.” Strika snarled into his audial, immediately drawing Megatron’s attention back.

He looked at her, slack jawed and optic ridge pinched. Completely offended by her outburst. She didn’t look the least bit repentant.

In fact, as war frames often did with one another, she stared him right back in the optics, challenging him. Her permanent frown somehow impressively deepening.

Megatron’s processor slowed to a tick.

“What was that, General?” He ground out, finally grasping that one of his subordinates had just had the gall to openly disrespect him in such a way.

The tank leaned into him, drawing a curious glance from the old and foolish Trion who frequently attempted to keep tabs on the Decepticon board from across the way. Looking terribly unsubtle about it, too.

“Vatch what jou say about Prime.” Strika rumbled.“He does not deserve jour ridicule, too.”

Nearly lost for words in one debilitating moment of insanity, Megatron needed time for his processor to climb back up to a functional rhythm.

Strika’s gaze did not waver, shockingly. Staring him down with all the confidence and reassertion she only ever expended defending the honor of her delusional mate, Lugnut.

Which this was….. odd…

“He deserves every ounce of it.” Megatron said slowly, gobsmacked. Because had Strika forgotten how they’d gotten themselves here?

Had she forgotten how her suddenly precious little Prime had gotten him here?

“He is the reason we are being forced to kneel to the Autobot’s.”

“He is za reason we may all have a chance at peace, finally. He is za reason zese negotiations have gone on for as long as zhey have vithout falling through.”

“Because he won’t stop inserting himself-“

“Which is the reason we’ve had a voice for ourselves on that half of the chamber.”

Megatron felt a very childish rebuttal coming up any second now.

“We are strong enough to be our own voices!”

They’d had to be for lifetimes now.

Where had it gotten them, though?

“They von’t listen to us.” Strika said simply. Obviously.

They both already knew, despite how much it pained Megatron to think he was worth so little respect from even Ultra Magnus these days as to be heard, when he had gone and conquered worlds. Had posed as the single most monstrous threat to Autobot society for generations.

“Prime is making zem listen.” Strika reinforced, a tad more gentler. Which was worse than her disrespect.

Megatron felt the tension in his shoulder joints loosen, defeated yet again by Strika’s superior logic unit. One reason she made such a brilliant general, and did just a good enough job to help him remember his own place in things.

Help him remember his undoubtable greatness and value as a warrior and intelligent mind still weren’t enough to sway the narrow minds and bigoted forces of the Autobot Commonwealth. She was just objective enough to understand her loyalty for her master wouldn’t translate for some- for many. And she was right -had probably saved these negotiations countless times without him even knowing- to help him see that for himself.

He’d be feeding her her spike for it later.

“It shouldn’t be that way…” He huffed, all but pouting like the 14 million year old warlord he was for anyone tracking the conversation in the room to see.

“I agree- and he doesn’t zink so, either.“ Strika said, turning back to face the finally full room with her optics settling over the little Prime, entranced in his own tireless note taking.

“How fortunate are we, zhen to have a such a find listener? Zhat isn’t a question, by ze way. Now shut up and vatch.”

The session began as it always did- with the little red Bumblebee lookalike announcing the designations of all parties present and then the article of debate. In today’s case, it was about the mythical Decepticon housing distribution problem.

Optimus’ finials pricked up in interest, readying himself to take a stand.

Megatron turned away.

“You hate peace, Strika.” He said mournfully. His servos crossed over his chest, as he stared over at Saberswipe diligently standing guard. His optics also settled heavily over the brightly colored Prime. But he was only safe place in the room at the moment for Megatron to rest his optics.

Megatron was always happiest with his processor busy plotting, and he had much to think about when he set his optics on the tall, agile jet.

—————————

Despite feeling like a part time prisoner still, which was somewhat true, Megatron was glad to spend a cycle outside of that court of self-aggrandizing windbags, and in the beautiful plated streets of the lovely Iacon City for a change. Standing in the place he’d once stood millennia ago, screaming at the top of his voice box until his synthesizer was stripped raw for the helm of the mech who’d signed the miner outpost off and left him and his kin an empty future.

He remembered his fellow war mech’s at his back, looking to him -the bravest of the lot- to get them answers. To take it from the first senator to get down off his high podium and face them all. Having finally reached a point in his life where he was willing to throw his life away, if that was what it would take to be heard.

Civil frames avoided him, splitting perfectly down the middle as they went, trying to avoid him. Dodging eye contact, apologizing for having to pass by him at all- those who didn’t cross the street entirely.

One such mech was not so cowed by his domineering, gravely presence on their clean, shiny streets.

“Hiya, Megatron. You’re needed in the chambers today.”

Megatron looked the large, green swat van over. Twice. Wondering when and where he had gotten the audacity.

“Are you an errand boy, now?” He jabbed, looking for a weak spot in Optimus’ most even tempered, well adjusted ex-crew mate.

“Nope. Just doin’ Prime a favor. He, uh, wanted to discuss the housing issue some more the other day, but Ultra Magnus said it’d need to be done in an official setting. You’re the other faction leader, sooo… y’know.”

So one of Optimus’ post meeting scourges had pushed enough frayed nerves to get itself a platform.

Megatron was not about to subject himself to Optimus -an Autobot- openly condemning Megatron’s -an actual Decepticon- insistence that Decepticons did not need the ‘frivolities’ that civil types did in their hypothetical habsuites, and that he was ‘thinking like a pampered little civil frame’ when he had insisted each Decepticon be given a balcony and sky view for easy take off.

Optimus did not know what Decepticons needed, Megatron -a Decepticon- obviously did. Why hadn’t he left it alone? Why did he always have to go behind his backstrut?

Because he knew having one less oppressive opinion of Optimus’ place there in the room would be enough to force himself to be heard?

And if he was as great as Strika (confusingly, peculiarly, horrifically) had said, then he would know they ‘needed’ an open, more communal space for their habitats. Once, when he’d cared to hear it, Megatron had recalled somebot saying that seekers didn’t do so well when separated, and seekers made up a large part of his flyers.

Which speaking of-

“That is why Starscream exists.” Megatron glowered at Bulkhead.

Yes, Starscream was here as his no good, useless second in command. It’d been torture having to reinstate that rank at the start of this jumbled negotiation mess.

Bulkhead only shrugged.

“She didn’t show up.”

Megatron sighed, palm coming up to cover his forehelm.

He did love his cycles away from the council room, as their newest instrument of torture -them opening their mouths- too much for his poor, weathered spark.

But today was not his day to indulge.

He turned away and left Bulkhead standing there, shrugging off the taller mech’s awful attitude -used to Prowl’s and Bumblebee’s- and marched himself away from the council chambers. He took flight in the middle of a crowded city of startled grounders and off towards the Nemesis’ docking bay, stationed in the vacant hollow of the once prosperous Kaon, where it was sat idly. His poor ship.

On a day like this, where Starscream had been summoned to preform and had unsurprisingly failed again to do so, the useless seeker would no doubt be hiding away in the command quarters, rather than out enjoying the city skylights from the shuttle ports. Lazing about precarious platforms and swinging a pede over an edge into the open air, enjoying herself.

She’d be smart enough to know with that alarming sixth sense of her that Megatron would be out looking for her today. Looking to tear off some wingstruts.

Decepticons cleared the way as their thunderous leader landed and stomped his way up the deck, much like the civil frames had in the Iacon Plaza.

Megatron was marginally saddened to find Starscream hadn’t taken the opportunity of his absence to claim ownership of his throne and do all her sulking there, as he always felt it was a bit instigative of him to shred the seeker to pieces when she hadn’t gone and stupidly earned it.

When he finally found her huddled in on herself in a bulkhead, he had to forced his claws to retract.

She stood there, facing away from the quiet commotion of the bridge with her servos crossed, staring at the floor with a scowl. Processor deep in conniving thought.

Some threatening on Megatron’s part was still in order, at least.

“Get… your scrap metal wings… your lazy skidplate… down to the council chambers!” Megatron roared, startling the seeker out of her trance, as she spun around to access the danger she was in.

Megatron stood before her, towering and menacing, impossible to make out the expression of in the lightless war ship. Though she did catch the distinct glint of fanged denta baring themselves from the glow of monitor stations.

“Now.” Megatron rasped, pointing for target enhanced optics to see at the vague location of the Autobot Council Chambers. Miles and miles away.

After a moment looking him over, frown stuck to her faceplates, Starscream immediately assumed her usual dramatics, ‘scrap metal wings’ challenging Megatron in a high arch.

“Never,” She hissed back, baring her own sharp denta. Already protesting against his authority and he’d only just gotten there.

Megatron, finally having been able to get some fresh air in his vents away from the horrid hell hole Prime was trying to shove him back into, was able to find the strength to summon his ire over his exhaustion.

His optics glowed dangerously as his plating ruffled. Making his already impressive frame seem somehow bigger.

“Starscream. Go. At. Once.”

Starscream still was not cowed. Curiously. Worryingly.

She brought her claws out to her sides, extending them, readying for the first strike.

“No…”

Megatron was only slightly surprised to see how affected his selfish, self-absorbed seeker was by attending the lengthy meetings of Autobot jargon that did little, if anything, to center themselves around her haughty presence there. Because of course she wouldn’t want to whittle her time away there, it was never about her.

It was always about Megatron and his great presence and incredible intellect. His ability to have every last one of the sniveling Autobots wiped clean as a species, should they cross him. Starscream could never stand being overshadowed by his-

“I’m not going back there!” She screeched at him.

Megatron reached for a sheathed sword he wore in purposeful protest of Magnus’ law forbidding war frame’s of dawning weapons in the presence of civil mechs, as it hadn’t yet been set into motion.

But then her words suddenly clicked.

“What do you mean, ‘go back there’? You’ve been excluded from sessions while in my company… Because I barred you.”

Lord, had he.

“I barred myself, when you wouldn’t stop gloating about ridiculous, ancient, irrelevant history!” Starscream countered, giving Megatron a sudden and strange feeling that reason was a fallacy.

“Nobody cares how you handled the pre-faction Destrons- or how ‘great you are’ at leading a washed out, embarrassment of an ex-faction! It doesn’t make you a good leader, it doesn’t mean you deserve anyone’s respect! Especially not mine!”

Megatron’s optic twitched.

AllSpark, give him strength.

“Your presence has not been requested or necessary for a decacycle, Starscream. I’ve been handling everything- this was my one cycle away from their pointless rambling-“

“That’s what you think!” Starscream said snidel. Igniting equal parts worry and confusion in Megatron’s fuel tank.

Because she had better not been stepping a single heeled thruster into that fucking joke of a council of theirs, or else he’d-

“You don’t care about the needs of streamlined frames, you know! I have to be there!”

Megatron blinked his confusion, but he made sense of things rather quickly.

“You mean you and your clones?”

“Yes!” Starscream instantly recognized which insufferable tone Megatron was using on her.

“Obviously, you old fool!”

“Starscream-!”

“I have a skeletal scaffold to pick with them, too, you know!” Starscream flittered her wings in agitation, ignoring whatever danger she was in and rambling over him.

“You may not have the spacial awareness to see it for yourself, but I’m in there plenty! You never think to address the feuling crisis for streamlined frames! The clone seekers have varying needs, we aren’t genetically identical, or have you somehow overlooked Skywarp’s built in warpdrive?! What about Thundercracker’s sonic boom?!”

Thundercracker’s what…?

Oh, Primus.

“They are seekers of my own making,” Starscream screeched so loud, the nearest star outside the viewport flickered, hearing her call.

“They’re not… not thoughtfulness productions and weapons!”

Megatron’s lip curled.

“Your missing spark is an enigma. Who would bother learning every special delicate need your radiated, mutated miscreants require in order to find their shoddy, miserable existence in this world like the rest of us?”

“Optimus Prime would.” Starscream muttered more to herself, rolling her optics.

Megatron’s look of disgust was quickly wiped from his faceplate. Confusion and -oddly- betrayal took its place, as he searched Starscream’s frowning face for answers he dared not ask for.

Starscream looked conflicted as well- beneath the prevalent, thick layer of spite, anyway- and conceded to an explanation.

“He’s working to reduce the classification the clone seekers are subjected to- the Auotbots think they function like workerbots…” Starscream’s derma twisted up at the thought of those nameless mechs, existing without identities, being compared to her wild, wayward clone brothers.

Megatron very consciously chose not to feel anything when he noticed those bots slinking around, doing typical maintenance work and looking unnervingly devoid of a processor.

“That little Earth Prime,” Starscream’s wing flicked.

“He’s taking note of my seekers, what they each need to survive here, how much they need. He isn’t just throwing them together and hoping the new laws and resources sort them all out- that’d be like throwing me and Bonecrusher into a blind conjunxing so you could be done with me.” She shivered violently at the thought.

“He knows the clones aren’t inherently compatible with one another… we’re… that we’re… different people. You know?”

Starscream pulled a face.

“Maybe you don’t know... It’s all a wasted effort anyway. Like you, no one seems to care long enough to learn even the most basic needs of our individual maintenance.”

Starscream shuttered her optics and balled her servos up.

“No one cares to know. Starscream will slip her way out of any mess, but what happens when the mess is about to become your only option to a better future? It’s this or live with nothing in a stockade underground somewhere…”

Starscream was sounding eerily alike she was trying to stave off a watery edge to her vocalizer. Looking away to hide her despair.

Megatron would admit he hadn’t been aware of the existence of this issue -stood there dumbstruck into silence- but it made some molecule of sense to him.

Shockwave had said something about environments and Energon sources as being large factors in issues with accurate cloning. The crazed and unethical servos of their scientist inventors didn’t help with that either, Megatron imagined.

….As they had seen all of such with Toxitron and Nemesis.

Despite Optimus’ stilted, but eventually genuine welcome of the two newest Decepticons into his existentially horrified life, they were both problems for another day. And thankfully, too, ones Optimus was willing to tackle. Seemingly feeling responsible for their creation in some nonsensical way.

Which was also good for him, as Megatron did not want to have to deal with another argument about his inexcusable, abhorrent lack of ethics from Ultra Magnus after what he himself had approved to have happen to the young, susceptible jet twins.

But for now, he was far too tired to deal with anymore insufferable self-doubt, and waved a single servo towards the exit while his other clutched at his aching helm.

“Just go, Starscream. You are needed- do your one and only job.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” She shrieked, energy boundless.

“I’m not going back!”

Megatron tried to ignore the terrified mechs typing away at their monitor stations, fields all buzzing with nerves at their two temperamental commanders’ increasingly passionate spat.

Then the sharp edge of Starscream’s wings spreading out wide at her back brought his attention to the suddenly conflicted looking faceplate of his dear SIC once more.

“They want to silence him!” She continued, failing suddenly to mask the indifference in her voice.

“That idiot with the hammer told him to stop pressing the matter!”

Starscream’s attempt at dressing down the Magnus was a frail one. Desperation was muddling her clever tongue and making her optics blur (to Megatron’s mounting horror).

“Then that, that… useless garbage plow told him it ‘didn’t matter’! He said it wasn’t important! Can you- you believe that?!”

Megatron stood in frozen terror as her vocalizer caught. Watching helplessly as she waved about, fighting back a very real danger to cry.

Blitzwing, formerly a seeker, appeared to be the only bot left in the room not glued faceplate first into his monitor. Wings pricking in interest.

He seemed oddly invested in the whole thing, in Megatron’s opinion. Megatron, who tried not to believe in such things as dwelling on one’s former self. He’d thought Blitzwing wouldn’t worry about something like that either, but… maybe there was something more there he wasn’t seeing.

“And that stupid, little fool…” Starscream hadn’t enough sheer willpower to keep her opinions to herself and avoid the threat of finally crying her optics out in the most un-Decepticon like fashion, in front of a room full of them…

“He told Prime to ‘be quiet’.”

Like Optimus asking for these powerful mechs to hear the voices of others was some ‘annoying inconvenience’.

Or more like Optimus was some annoying inconvenience to them.

They’d certainly done nothing to welcome him there since these negotiations had began, trying to talk over him. Trying to silence him. Trying to bully him.

He’d done more than any of them had in reuniting their peoples with next to nothing to do it with.

And that may only be because he was the only one who wanted to so badly…

The coolant evaporated from the corners of Starscream’s optics in an instant -a god delivered blessing. Instead, it was outrage taking it’s hold and possessing her.

Megatron’s self-perseveration protocols surged to life.

“I’m going to gut them for talking like that,” Megatron’s sparkbeat began to pulse rapidly, knowing that look in her optic then.

“I’m going to pull out his glossa and feed it to Skullcruncher- I’m going to do it right now, in fact! I’m going to the council-“

It was that fearless look where vengeance blinded her and became more important to Starscream than basic logic- of shabby promises of truces.

And Megatron of all mechs was about to be the one to save a board full of outdated models from the wrath of the pit itself, despite knowing they deserved it.

He reached out and caught her by her sensitive wings, unnerved by the way she didn’t so much as flinch in pain from it. This was that mad- mad, that ‘you’ve disrespected a self-appointed Decepticon Prince’ mad.

“No, Starscream. That will undo everything we’ve accomplished-“

“What have we accomplished?!”

“It will undo everything I’ve had to waste my time sitting through, then. Starscream- Starscream-!”

The seeker twisted out of his grasp and, before she could attempt to take flight and race over to the senate to claim herself a pretty, new neck piece, Megatron caught her about the waist and struggled against her sheer force of selfish will to keep her thrusters grounded. Possibly the first time the foolish creature had ever posed such a real and bothersome threat to him.

She attempted lift off again anyway, squashing Megatron’s face into her cockpit as she scratched and clawed and fought for freedom. Mechs typing away at their terminals, desperately trying to ignore the chaos behind them, were inches away from breaking their far less bendable struts than the average civil mech’s by crouching so far down into their stations, some of the mechs with kibble were scraping against raw protoform.

Hiding from emotional conflict like true Decepticons.

Megatron hadn’t been met with this level of danger from the seeker in years. He was afraid he was about to meet his match when, finally, another pair of servos circled her about the waist from the other side, and she was brought back down between Megatron and her other captor.

She didn’t struggle, preserving some ounce of dignity after that extremely unbecoming display.

But the mournful look in her optic was back, and the hitch in her vocalizer was fresh, as she hiccuped an aborted sniff. Muted only by the grind of her denta in a valiant effort to compose herself.

“He was jus- t… trying to help me… No one’s…” She steadied herself.

“No one’s ever done that before…”

Megatron stared, unable to think of a single thing to say to break the uncomfortable spell cast over them, as he looked at his normally carefully distant Second. So careful not to be vulnerable- and never in front of Megatron, for Primus’ sake.

What had these negotiations done to them?

His fearless warriors…

Perhaps he could say to her that Optimus Prime was just one mech, and a young, inexperienced one. No more a crucial factor in her getting the representation Megatron was hard pressed to say her obedient clones didn’t actually deserve, even if she herself did not. But then, Optimus was apparently also the only one pushing this issue that Megatron hadn’t even been made aware of- because the admittedly accurate assumption of Starscream’s was that he hadn’t cared to be.

What he was mortifyingly close to understanding now, though, was that Optimus Prime was important to Starscream’s cause, and far from worthy of the routine mistreatment he received from of his own people.

Unless, of course, Megatron thought that his people secretly deserved such mistreatment themselves- the kind Optimus was tirelessly fighting against, though somehow failing to establish for himself. Like, if Megatron didn’t explicitly know better, Optimus was attempting to put the needs of a few Decepticons, the deserving ones, before his own… Like their proper treatment was at least worth fighting for…

He could say instead that Starscream was letting her behavior consume her and was looking a pitiful mess for it, and as vain as she was, that’d be devastating enough to hear that she might drop the issue. She had only recently established a change in the designation of her pronouns without receiving a reformation with it, garnering plenty of odd looks and outright rejection from the sleek and well-defined frames of civil types and those identifying similarly. The way they’d rejected Strika and Blackarachnia for not fitting certain standards.

It’d left Starscream feeling more fragile about her appearance and reputation lately, and such a thing would be shattering to have to acknowledge when her anger finally subsided and the weight of it all settled upon her.

But goading Starscream for something Megatron himself was constantly struggling against felt undeservedly hateful- the fight to be accepted and respected as well, as a Cybertronian with rights.

Though he couldn’t believe that Starscream didn’t seem deserving of a perfectly effective punishment he could inflict upon her.

“Thundercracker helps jou all ze time.” Said Blitziwng then, finally breaking the overwhelming tension of the moment. His grip still carefully settling her in her place.

Megatron blinked himself out of his stupor, out of his embarrassing lull of feeling guilt and concern for the seeker, and loosened his grip on her then.

Starscream took the opportunity to push both their arms from off her frame and sulk away with her wings indeed held pitifully low. They watched her go, and cords unwinding and struts re-straightening could be heard across the bridge in unison.

“Seekers are moody.” Blitzwing suggested, after a look over his unusually beaten master.

As evidenced by said former seeker’s split personalities, Megatron would agree with that assessment, and spun around in a hasty retreat from anymore emotional confrontations.

————————————

He didn’t allow himself to miss any deliberations after that, lest Starscream subject him to anymore of that guilt still weighing heavy in his spark with another pent up tirade about discrimination in her own faction some ways down the line.

This, watching Motormaster -a recent addition to high command and a poor one- barter for ‘derby rights’, however, wasn’t much better…

“Street racing is illegal.” Optimus said simply- something he’d picked up from Fanzone that had interestingly never been applicable to a race of sentiment, self-driving vehicles before.

Motormaster and his Stunticons were a… different breed, however. One which demanded a new definition for what qualified as ‘safe and legal driving’.

“You mean it’s illegal for war types ta’do it.” Motormaster growled back at him.

Plenty of other Decepticons here today would agree with that false assumption, simply for the sake of being contradictory. Flight frames included.

These talks hadn’t really done a thing to change the relationships between their peoples. They were all still viewing one another as an enemy threat, which, while true, would do nothing to help their goal of changing that viewpoint later on for their futures together.

Megatron wasn’t sure he wanted that to happen, though.

“Why in spark is this bolt head here?” Sentinel said loudly then, turning to Optimus. The only other mech there brave enough to speak over the terrifying Stunticon leader.

Interestingly enough, Sentimel Prime wasn’t particularly frightened to speak his mind at the insubordinate bastard either.

Megatron made a note of it for future blackmailings. He couldn’t send someone the airheaded Prime wasn’t afraid of to do his manipulating.

“Motormaster is Polyhex's defence garrison.” Optimus sighed, having a rare moment of sharing in Sentinel’s distress during one of these meetings.

“Uh-huh. Which you should be the one voicing all the complaints of.” Sentinel said, pointing at the Polyhexian governor, Straxus. Who Megatron had been embarrassingly forced to welcome into the senate, as his mostly made up position also came with lots of mostly made up authorities and responsibilities.

Then Starxus had the audacity -in front of Megatron- to speak.

“Well, yes… I suppose so. Would you… like me, too?”

Strika whipped her helm back to send Megatron a withering look of disgust- which he could share the sentiment of.

Straxus, never soft spoken and never one to acknowledge when he was speaking out of turn and not worth the hot air he was blowing out of his pincered mouth, had been using that tone in regards to Sentinel every time he spoke to the other mech for several weeks now.

Alpha Trion had, again, not so subtlety raised curious optics towards the display. Making his own list of alarming mental notes that Megatron would rather him not be keeping on even his most useless of subordinates.

“Our needs are individual.” Straxus said simply to the court at large.

“Burning excess energy is not a staple of my function, as it is a Stunticons. I’m a big mech. I need to conserve Energon, you know. Might I say, a very big mech…”

Straxus finished by staring pointedly at Sentinel again. Optimus watched from the corner of his optic, extremely invested in his colleague’s reaction- which was only to shuffle his datapads in front of his obnoxious face to hide it, like his notes were more important than addressing the issue he himself had caused by challenging the High Governor himself.

It was a rare moment the plow had been effectively silence.

“Alright then…” Optimus began slowly, clearly disappointed there wasn’t anything more to that interaction.

“Motormaster, war frames are obviously built with fewer limitations than civil frames. Releasing all your frustrations out on the public will result in injuries… To say the least.”

“So we’re just s’posed to fly over to Polyhex anytime we want to spin our wheels!? Get our exercise in?! It’s our right, y’know!”

“No, there are city destinations specifically designed for war frame inhabitants.” Optimus countered, much too calm in Megatron’s foul-tempered opinion. He’d like to see Motormaster verbally whipped to pieces in one of Optimus’ scathing sass-attacks from having lost his patience.

“Where are they?” Motormaster asked smugly, knowing the little Prime had just set himself up for another bout of endless bickering over the inadequacies of care the prejudiced Autobots were bleeding them of.

Which, true, but-

“They haven’t been built yet,” Shockwave -the biggest slight on the company of the proceeding council of any Decepticon mech here- answered on Optimus’ behalf. Though his presence had been won through the stipulation of Megatron agreeing to sign Magnus’ Decepticon Registration Act Part ll, he regretted nothing for the sake of the joy his place on the council had brought him.

“They are scheduled to be completed in less than another decacycle.” Shockwave leant over to stare at Motormaster.

“You can wait a little longer to run your tires to bare threads, can’t you?”

There was an air of irritation about the secular mech. Megatron eyed him several seat podiums down. Sitting as far away from the Magnus as Shockwave could be put.

Shockwave didn’t wait for the other mech’s answer, of course.

“Optimus Prime has personally seen to the construction and collection of the resources needed to make it so. He’s single-handedly enlisted the help of the specialists needed to build these destinations, no less. Much of whom, surprisingly, are volunteers.”

Megatron tried…… VERY HARD…… not to think about the lowly Prime’s status as a former maintenance bot at that.

And yet, the searing reminder kept persisting -as it always did- because Megatron could only imagine with a reputation of such casual dislike amongst a good many of his peers these negotiations had garnered Optimus, there were only so many ‘specialist builders’ he could think of who were going to volunteer the first hand construction of Decepticon resources. And one of them had been severely -possibly permanently- hospitalized because of him in the heat of their final Earth battle before his capture…

“Optimus Prime this, Optimus Prime that.” Said Hook suddenly from a seat behind Megatron.

Hook, the studious, current chief Decepticon medic -after Scalpel had proved both morally unstable (Megatron’s favorite thing about him) and unwilling to subject himself to negotiating with Autobots. He was happy preforming horrible medical services inside his medbay in or out of an everlasting war either way, so it was up to the newly integrated member of Scrapper and Mixmaster’s gestalt to appear before them all today.

Megatron turned his helm to see the insufferable mech speaking his mind -also out of turn, as was his mech’s habit- and caught a worrying glimpse of Strika at his side, looking murderous and ready to stand and punch a new hole in the Constructicon’s head.

Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.

“When exactly is Optimus Prime going to get a seat in the center of the court, so he can delegate all these matters for you?” Hook said, speaking as a whole to the Autobot chairmen across the room. Likely just upset still that he’d been denied special medical privileges to Autobot hospitals.

Probably for questionable access to the resources and records.

But the offhanded comment struck a devastating chord with the audience it’d been addressed to. Megatron watched curiously as facial plates twisted in disbelief and some in outrage.

“Preferably where jou are sitting, Magnus.” Said Strika then, and hardly in jest. Significantly adding to the problem.

Megatron’s field flared beside her in quiet despair for her to silence her vocalizer. His processor spinning with the implications that he had just become the sole protector of the Autobot High Command by trying to keep his mechs civil long enough to give this peace an honest try.

Optimus, constantly challenging the council mechs himself, certainly wasn’t there to do it.

What were these negotiations doing to them?

“I second that.” Said a voice from out of the blue.

It drifted in over the polished floor from afar. Indeed, far, far beneath the deliberators’ notice.

All the way to where Saberswipe was stood guarding his respective door at full attention.

He was relatively young for a war machine and stupidly charismatic, thinking both were enough to buy him some leeway in to injecting his opinion on matters 30 sectors above his ranking. Megatron bit back an almighty need to show him which level he was on with his fusion canon then.

“You are not to speak!” Said Sentinel Prime, having recovered from Straxus’ unwavering optic-ogling assault across the way.

“Agreed,” said Alpha Trion. Not one to allow nonsense of even this caliber. Though Megatron suspected he enjoyed a lower form of it in these drawn out meetings when the mood allowed for it.

“Leave at once, guardsmen. There is no a place for you here.”

“I’ll see him out!” Said Optimus suddenly. Standing and, without anyone’s permission, making his way down the platforms and over the length of the cavernous room to greet a happily surprised looking Saberswipe.

Megatron watched with furrowed optical ridge as the taller jet’s charming smile convinced a timid smile out of the shorter mech, before they awkwardly shuffled towards the door.

“This conference will proceed without you, Optimus Prime.” Came Ultra Magnus’ first articulate sentence of the exhausting cycle, as he watched the little truck with tired optics.

“Are you sure you wish to conclude for the remainder of it?”

Optimus had stopped walking with a far too close Saberswipe at his side to address his leader then.

“I’m causing you all too much trouble.” He said as way of shoddy explanation, barely suppressing an amused smile at the Decepticon portion of the room.

“Pheh. That’s everyday.” Senator Botanica seemed to say rather warmly as the little firetruck went on his way. She was possibly one of the few who were steadily becoming too fond of the brash little mech to think badly of his efforts.

Megatron sat, watchful optics taking it all in as the two retreating mechs came even closer together as they exited the door to the chambers, centimeters apart. And feeling somewhat… disappointed all at once.

While this wasn’t an issue Optimus needed to be present for or press anymore, as hopefully the council wouldn’t deign to change subjects of debate and infringe on anybot’s rights while he wasn’t around, his presence was still…. Necessary.

To Megatron’s gargantuan surprise, Optimus Prime, creating a steady pace of good deeds and commendable civil works for even some of Megatron’s more undeserving of mechs, was, in fact, necessary.

Of all the things Megatron expected to hear during the proceeding conversation in Optimus’ absence, Shockwave leaning forward to jab a talon at Motormaster and hissing, “You just ran him off! The only sensible Autobot here!” Was not one of them.

A Decepticon as unfeeling as a slab of dead durasteel tissue, and thinking favorably about a nobody little Autobot?

Not at all…

Apparently that irritation he was sensing off Shockwave from earlier was on behalf of the little Prime’s shockingly genuine efforts for the Decepticon Cause, and not because Prime kept inserting himself into issues.

It was worrying to think the ‘Decepticon Cause’, though, had somehow shifted to a cause centered on finding themselves a place on this planet. A semi-peaceful one. One that didn’t speak of domination and death.

But even that was not more worrying than thinking his arguably lost monstrously devoid mechs would be so supportive of one little Autobot’s attempts to make that so.

————————————

It was only a matter of time until someone was going to snap. Tensions between their two peoples were too high, and Prime just had to keeping shoving his olfactory into places it didn’t belong.

Megatron was contacted almost immediately after a team of medics were by a suspiciously blocked frequency. Meaning whoever they were, they may have been involved- which didn’t narrow down who that could possibly be with so many bots on both sides making questionable choices all throughout this merging.

What he was certain of, was that Rippersnapper had seemed to have wandered too far from the other Terrorcons and was doing his damnedest to make a mess for everyone.

Which meant Megatron was now looking for a mecha sized shark-former with a thousand tonnes too many to be laying his hands on a little, overly assertive Prime- most likely having been there ordering him to leave the civilian gallery for his foul, reckless behavior. Stepping on the crystalline garden dividers and biting at the air below where terrified civilians scurried out of range to keep their helms in tact.

Megatron was beyond furious to be reduced to playing dog catcher, but with peace as precarious as it was, this was too severe an offense to go beneath him. Being their faction wide leader, Megatron was already out of his berth from a restless recharge and bounding out the docking bay to put a stop to it.

Knowing his Terrorcons (about to be the newly dubbed ‘Torn-to-pieces-Cons’ once he got ahold of him) Rippersnapper would have steadily become more and more deranged in the time Megatron had taken to fly there. Which would have been sooner, if he’d just agreed to temporary housing in the city limit already.

And Prime for his part would have surely been an overwhelming nuisance who’d deserved what Rippersnapper had served to him, no doubt. Standing up to an entire war machine and telling him that he should literally watch his mouth and learn to act like a decent mech- even if he wouldn’t have been in the wrong for it…

Megatron’s men knew what was expected of them now- what was expected of them even more so at the moment, while they hoped to outlast the final phase of these negotiations until citizenships were finally trusted to be granted to them.

And while he couldn’t fault any of them for feeling disrespected and belittled by a mech from a faction that’d had them all disgraced from their own home planet in the first place, Megatron had had to do the unthinkable to make this union work and set aside all personal grudges for the sake of his people. He’d had to let go.

At least, he had to look like he had, and so they did, too.

And now he was going to be forced to make an example out of one of them… just to prove how seriously he was going to take his massive warriors acting out in public. Just to assure the Civilian Council that he could be trusted to conduct himself professionally enough for them to take a gamble on attempting a trial of peace with him.

Beyond the fury he felt at realizing now how desperate he actually was to see this union succeed, Megatron was carefully calculating all the ways to tortuously take out his frustrations on the Terrorcon for having forced him essentially to defend the Prime who he hated most in the infinite universe.

Megatron reached the city limit and prepared to land soon.

He was going to grab Rippersnapper by the sensitive dorsal fin and pull his mechanical gills out- make him choke around Megatron’s strangling servo stuffing itself down his intake. Help him to understand, and any present to witness it, that this was intolerable, and that their master would be eating the sparks of any wretch foolish enough to do such a thing in the future.

Jeopardizing all the humiliating work Megatron had put into sitting through those brain numbing Council calls at heinous hours of the cycle in an increasingly more unordered fashion (which was somewhat bound to be the case, since they had Decepticons keeping chairs in the chambers)….

And he was in danger of losing l all of that, because one shark shifter had the split second insanity to put their hands on one of Primus’ precious chosen ones. Even a disgraced nobody Prime who was only important in title.

When Megatron arrived at the open gallery with the anonymous coordinates he’d been sent, he soon realized that none of his fantasies about brutalizing Rippersnapper would even be necessary.

To his amazement, the commended portion of Optimus Prime’s reputation as a burgeoning enthusiast for cross-faction equality had reached far and wide in the Decepticon’s ranks, and while Megatron wasn’t sure what he’d done to elicit the favor of the brilliant Combaticon leader, Onslaught, Megatron now suddenly found himself rather desperate to know.

Just how far out of the loop was he? How lost had he been to all the mountainous changes in his mechs while he was allowing his mind to focus on Magnus and the stale moving parts of the senate that’s he’d missed this?

The wondrous world he was only catching the tail-end glimpses of that Optimus Prime was hand building?

At this point, Megatron had to wonder if in the event this all did fall through, if whether it would even be a real loss, now that they had such a widely liked, capable mech like Optimus Prime so openly advocating for them.

What it would matter, though, purely beyond sentiment, amounted to very little, and their people were not attached to ideas such as that.

Megatron blinked himself back to the present so that he could assess the damage, as crowds of traumatized civil bots, watching with their backs flat to the surrounding buildings as Brawl beat a hole into the opposite side of Rippersnapper’s sternum. Missing his spark by an inch, blessedly preferring his victims to live long enough to remember the lessons he enforced. Megatron would rather not have his mechs be publicly broadcasting an infighting casualty.

Vortex was cheering Brawl on from over his shoulder, hovering too close again, about to receive another accidental, friendly-fire medbay visit.

Megatron was starting to see the necessity in Sentinel pushing for divided recreational sects in the cities, despite Optimus’ best intentions to see everyone coexist and treat one another with the proper respect.

The average civil mech didn’t possess a quarter of the foul tempered, carnal aggression a Decepticon gestalt did. Feeding off one another and causing a ruckus, encouraged further by the other supportive members of the group, aiding in some way to the destruction.

Megatron debated which position to take then.

Whether to do damage control and hoist the heavy mechs up and away from the near lifeless body, Energon puddling up beneath its cold frame, or to focus on calling for someone of Autobot authority to come separate and treat the horrified civilians present for the mental strain of what they’d just witnessed. Were still witnessing.

He’d finally had the processor to deduce that the mechs on the scene at the time that somebot had called for the ‘authorities’ must have been of Decepticon descent themselves- and they had naturally missed the point of calling for authorities entirely by calling upon a mech they assumed would allow them to finish the job first. And while he was certain now whoever they were they’d had some kind of part in all this, Megatron would admit that their assessment that he would rejoice in his warrior’s hardy bloodbath first would have been an accurate assumption in any other setting. In one where he was not currently issuing for the position of a willing protector of Cybertron.

As the Decepticon medics that’d been alerted were being painfully slow to respond to the anonymous caller -and would not have had the understanding to do so themselves- someone was going to have to tell Ultra Magnus about this…

Out of time since one breem ago, however; Megatron would have to deal with this before anyone actually useful to Prime could arrive.

His optics tracked back over to the incredibly damning sight he’d been subconsciously avoiding since he’d glanced optics over it.

Optimus was there being cradled like a broken doll against Onslaughts’ massive chestplate. Being held higher than any horrified Autobot’s brave enough to collect their mess of a Prime could reach.

There were evidently no takers around at the moment, though, which caused something odd to shift in Megatron’s core beliefs, as he considered for himself the notion that acts of blind bravery would predominantly be their jobs soon- war machines. As it had been once before the divide of their peoples.

It was the only exchange he could offer the Auotbots for the new age of peace- to protect. To fulfill once more their shackling roles as the guardians of weak, ungrateful, prejudiced little civil mechs, and face the atrocities lurking in the cosmos in lieu of the pampered, privileged, sheltered little things doing it themselves.

Oh, how these things had a way of repeating themselves. It’d left a bitter taste in his mouth… at first.

But now… seeing how easily Onslaught had resumed control of the situation so abysmally out of the little ones’ depths, undoubtedly the one to thank for saving the Prime’s life as he had…

Civilians weren’t entirely useless to their species by any means, but a Decepticon easily outweighing them in strength size and ferocity were only the start of their problems in a galaxy much, much bigger than them.

As bad as it was, this could have been far worse.

Megatron looked twice and noticed that Swindle had materialized out of thin air at some point, possibly having been there the whole time, expertly sneaking about his brother with his shorter stature. Busy trying to talk Onslaught into purchasing a cushion to elevate Prime’s dripping helm, as Onslaught wasn’t capable of much in the way of a delicate touch.

Pink dribbled down the Combaticon’s torso as he shifted the body in his servos.

Megatron did a quick sweep next to locate the only brother missing, Blast Off, and decided whatever his involvement, it was not detrimental to him securing the crisis finally.

Megatron chose action over dissertation, leaving the innocent bystanders to console themselves -thankfully a rather hardier lot than Megatron had come to realize he’d given them credit for. Some of them shaking themselves from their stupor at the sight of him and doing what the others present had neglected in their shock by calling the Autobot forces.

There, now Magnus knew…

With that decided, Megatron marched over to the supervising Combaticon leader to work towards fixing the most pressing problem at the moment.

Fixing Prime.

Onslaught’s visor dipped in his direction, as Swindle used the magic of monkey business to all but disappear again.

“Let me have this.” Megatron said as he took the Prime away.

There was no quarrel as he was unceremoniously dumped into Megatron’s single servo, as Onslaught watched their leader whisk him away to someplace unknown.

Despite having had his servos around Prime’s waist once before, hefting him up as weightlessly as a cube of Energon, he felt even lighter now.

Worried he’d lost his grip on him, Megatron stole a look down at a peek of white denta behind full lips. The badly bruised Prime slack jawed and unmoving, beyond his helm as it was lifted and supported by Megatron’s servo.

He thankfully didn’t get very far toting a battered Prime off before a pair of civilian medics arrived well ahead of his disgracefully arrogant ones.

Protocols hadn’t been set in the event of something like this. And he was considering forgiving everyone who’d done well enough to become involved for treating the situation as casually and non-life threateningly as it actually was. Few would have the foresight and understanding that walking away from a mauling like this wasn’t nearly as common a shift-end activity as it was for Decepticons.

He could have Shockwave conduct a thorough lecture on the matter later and instill in them the severity of situations like this.

He allowed the civilian medics to carry the unconscious trucker away, decidedly too awake now to attempt sleep again.

He wandered a bit, deep in thought about the behavior he’d witnessed from the fearsome, calculative, rather far removed from even the appeal to sentiment itself, Onslaught. Holding the husk of a Prime, shielding him carefully from any potential threats- essentially anybot that wasn’t himself or a mech of higher rank than him.

And he considered how easily Onslaught could protect him- any civilian. How easily they could protect these hapless, idiot things that went well out of their jurisdiction as maintenance bots to tip the world upon its head and demand it show them respect.

How fitting their new role on Cybertron felt all at once.

How wasteful it felt to think that their natural abilities would have easily been provided and cherished and appreciated by all if they had had a mech like Optimus around to fight ruthlessly for their chance to be. They’d been missing respect and loyalty, not a proper calling.

That thought struck him to the core, and he quickly dismissed it. The Cause he’d given the Decepticons was founded in spark-deep, honest conviction. They had thrived and conquered for millennia, even from the shadows, by standing proudly in their beliefs that they had been onlined with the natural born rights to.

He couldn’t… let himself… forget that. Be manipulated so carelessly astray.

Megatron noticed yet another Decepticon gestalt in the form of the ever expanding, newly banded Constructicons, moseying their way down the street to go put Rippersnapper back together again.

At their heights, it was easy for them to spot one another and salute him. And then he noticed some of their optics catching on his chest plates.

Once they had moved on to finally fulfill their roles here -leaving Megatron to wonder when Constructicons had been given the title of ‘acting medics’, beyond the carefully appointed Hook- he looked down to where they’d been staring at the single, Energon soaked palm print one little Autobot had left there.

———————-

END PART ONE, YOU’RE SAFE NOW. I split this thing up cuz HOO damn, I am just unstable when I made this. Even now there’s like two other parts, I can’t stop talking about thiiiis

For all of you that read this far, you deserved a better proofread then what you got. I know there are lots of mistakes, but if I had proofread this even twice after indulging myself as deeply as I had with all this fluff, I would have died.

Appreciation AU will be the connecting tag I use to the other parts

[soundcrusher]

The Struggles of a Young Leader

Hey, pssssst, @ut-girl666 and @cleverthylacine, there's a Part 2 to "How Hot Rod accidentally took over the Decepticons and became Rodimus" now.

Enjoy! :3

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

It was one of those days for Rodimus again. One where, after coming back from one of his meetings with Optimus, he simply looked for a quiet place and collapsed there. Not caring about who could or could not see him, because the fight on board the Ark left the young speedster exhausted more than anything else.

There was a fist fight after the meeting was over. And while Ironhide started it, Rodimus found himself joining in, after Blaster attacked Soundwave. And then it escalated quickly, although not everyone joined. Starscream was off on the side, talking to a big shuttle Rodimus had never seen, and Deadlock, after the speedster assured him that he would be fine, sneaked off to meet a certain red and white medic. Only returning after the fight was already over, with some paint that wasn’t his own on his plating.

Not that Rodimus, or anyone else, mentioned that. With peace time on the horizon, there were some from both factions that slowly started to meet old friends, family and, in some cases, lovers. It wouldn’t surprise the young leader if Deadlock was seeing a lover he was separated from because of the war. The fact that his new best friend had an Autobot lover though was something that made him very curious.

Either way, that was only the start of Rodimus’ exhaustion, because after the fight was over, there was another meeting where they all sat around and talked about useless things. Things, Rodimus grew quickly tired of, because it was always the same fragging topic over and over again. And it was always the same mech who kept bringing them up.

It took them the rest of the day to finally be done, and as Rodimus and his entourage finally were able to leave the Ark, the red speedster was quick to transform and take off. Ignoring Soundwave’s worried calls or Starscream’s mocking shouts as he put the medal to the pedal and raced back to the Nemesis. With Deadlock hot on his tail, but somehow, he managed to shake his body guard and that’s how Rodimus found himself somewhere lying alone on the floor.

Sleeping without a care in the world, because, at this moment, Rodimus could care less about anyone trying to kill him. Facing and fighting his old comrades took enough energy out of the usual energised speedster. Leaving him exhausted beyond anything he’s ever experienced. So much so, that he didn’t even notice when Deadlock finally found him curled up as best as he could, while softly snoring.

At least Deadlock didn’t try to move him, Rodimus’ sleep schedule was already messed up beyond repair, the young leader always had to take naps as soon as he could. Or whenever Deadlock or Soundwave noticed that their leader was barely keeping his optics online.

That’s also why Deadlock simply pulled out a blanket from his sup-space and draped it over his sleeping leader, before sitting down next to him. Resting one servo on Rodimus’ helm, as he stared up at the ceiling of the ship. Smiling as the memory of finally seeing his sweetspark again and sharing a wonderful moment crossed his mind, while also thinking about the things he could do when the peace treaty was finally over. Maybe then, he’ll finally know what peace truly feels like and find a place he belongs to.

But before Deadlock could truly start to dream about a new life after the war, his musing was interrupted by the heavy stomps of a particular Phase Sixer. And Deadlock found himself reaching for his gun as soon as Overlord rounded the corner. Pointing it at the sadistic mech, in a silent threat to leave their young leader alone.

“My, my, so much hostility towards a comrade doesn’t become you, Deadlock.” Said the taller mech, as he loomed over the sleeping and sitting mechs. “And here I thought that we could have a civilised conversation like two grown mechs, but apparently that isn’t something you would like to do.”

“Said one killer to the other. We both know how this conversation is going to end, so maybe you should walk along, before I stick this gun up your exhaust pipe and fire.” Growled Deadlock, as he got up and in between their still sleeping leader and Overlord. Bearing his teeth in a threatening way, that only got him a booming laugh from the other.

“What’s so funny?”

“That you think you could win in a fight against me, when we both know that the only ones who ever could stand a chance against me are Megatron and the sleeping mech behind you.” There was a cruel smile forming on Overlord’s face, as he slowly reached for Deadlock’s gun. Crushing it as soon as it was in his servo. “But if it’s a fight you want, I would be willing to accept the challenge. I do need the practice for when our esteemed leader finally fights me.”

“As if-” Started Deadlock, but before he could say more, a loud shout from the now awake speedster stopped him.

“Both of you, SHUT UP! Can’t you take your petty fighting to somewhere else? Preferred far away from me?” Growled Rodimus, as he got up from the floor, blanket wrapped snugly around his frame, before glaring at Deadlock and Overlord respectively.

“Now, Rodimus, I was simply trying to have a nice chat with Deadlock here and-”

“Don’t believe him, Rodimus! He was trying to-”

“What was I trying to do, Deadlock? I was doing nothing but walking along, and then you jumped up and threatened me as if I was a villain.”

“Only because you-”

A single glare coming from Rodimus made Deadlock shut his mouth. And as Overlord started to laugh, the same glare shut him also up. Not that the Phase Sixer would ever admit that a singly small speedster could intimidate him enough to stop talking though.

“Bullshit and you both know it.” Muttered the still tired mech, as he pointed first at Deadlock, “Stop threatening others, whenever you want”, and then at Overlord “And you. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Agitating my bodyguard and friend is not getting you that rematch you want. I told you, I’ll fight you again when the timer is done. Not sooner, because I have more important things to worry about.”

Overlord didn’t look impressed by Rodimus’ words, if the way he put his servos on his hips and leaned down to be right up in the speedsters face was any indication. He was trying to look threatening, but considering how often the Phase Sixer has done this over the few years Rodimus has spent as new leader of the Decepticons, he didn’t find himself backing down or getting scared. On the contrary, Rodimus simply crossed his arms over his chestplate, meeting Overlord’s threatening smile with a sweet smile of his own.

“Very well, but I hope that you won’t forget your promise then, Rodimus. You owe me a re-match. Not only because you took away the chance of fighting Megatron, but also because of our first fight.”

“And, as I said, you will have your re-match. I promise on my beating spark that, as soon as the timer is done, you’ll be the first one who gets to fight me. Until then, I hope this will quell your thirst for combat.” Said Rodimus, as he pulled out a data-pad from his sup-space. Handing it over to Overlord and watching the taller mech as he read through it. With the Phase Sixer’s optics slowly widening, as he got to the good part.

“You… got it through?” He asked in disbelief, to which Rodimus only nodded with a triumphant smirk. “It was a fight,” admitted the young leader, “ but I managed to convince Optimus to re-open the gladiatorial pits. Of course, I had to re-work the rules and you won’t get to kill anyone, but the fighting part is still there. There will also be a new system implanted where mechs can only fight mechs that are in the same league as them, but that only means that your fights will be a lot more exciting for you. I mean, fighting smaller mechs must have gotten boring at one point. Where’s the fun? Where’s the excitement? Where’s the thrill of going up against someone, where you don’t know how the fight will turn out!?”

With each word, Rodimus grew more and more excited, until he was flapping his hands from sheer excitement while looking up at Overlord with one of his one hundred watt smiles. Although, he was quick to calm himself down again, as soon as he saw Deadlock’s confused and Overlord’s slightly amused look. “A-ah… what I mean is, yea, we will reopen the arena. After giving it a big overhaul though. So, you must wait a little while longer, before you get to fight again. You know? We have to wrap up the peace treaty first, and then we have to rebuild some things, and then there are the other things we have to take care of, you can thank Optimus for that, and then… yea… If things go well, we should be able to have our re-match in the arena…”

“You want our re-match to be in the arena?” Asked Overlord doubtfully, before a smirk made its way onto his lips. “Do you want your defeat to be witnessed by so many optics, little flame?”

“No, I just want to give your performance the stage it deserves. And if it means our fight has to be in an arena where over thousands can witness our show of strength, then so be it.” And with these words, Rodimus dipped his head slowly in a small bow, before turning around and quickly making his way down the hall. Putting as much distance between himself and a stunned Phase Sixer as he could.

Only when Rodimus reached his hidden layer and sat down on his bean bag chair, the blanket still around his body, did he allow his frame to start shaking.

He just told Overlord off. THE Overlord, who’s known by many for his… his… Primus! How stupid was Rodimus for talking to HIM like THAT?! Surely, Overlord was already planning his demise, he was sure of it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should have let Deadlock handle this, or called Soundwave, or asked someone for a favour to distract the Phase Sixer, while he escaped. Instead, he got into a verbal spat and revealed his hand too soon. And to add oil to the fire, he also promised Overlord that stupid re-match! Okay, he still had time until he actually had to fight him, but still. Kup was right, Rodimus should have learned to shut up and or watch his mouth, otherwise he wouldn’t be in this situation now.

While the young leader was wallowing in his own misery, he didn’t notice as Deadlock entered the room. Only when the mech sat down in the opposite bean bag chair ( also courtesy of Soundwave) and fixated him with a glare worse than any Kup has ever given him, did Rodimus stop and look up. And Primus, it made him feel even worse than before.

“You’re stupid.” Said Deadlock after a moment of silence. “You’re truly stupid!”

“I know!”

“You just gave Overlord the one thing he always wanted!”

“I know!”

“Do you know what that means!?”

“I… I do?”

“Do you now, Rodimus?”

“C-come on Lock… it was a hard day, scratch that, it was a hard week. I haven’t recharged correctly for three months and I just… I just couldn’t keep it in, okay?” Rodimus buried his face in his servos and let out one quiet scream, before it turned into quiet sobs. “This slag is harder to do than you think. I’m exhausted, I’m tired, my former comrades don’t want to talk with me, I’m scrutinised the second I step even near the Ark or Autobot City and I… I can’t… I just want to go back. You know? Back to where I came from and live my life there. But I can’t. My home is gone and all I have is this, but I can’t even have this, because there are still so many who hate me. And I just want it to stop, Lock. I want it to stop and just… just…”

Rodimus' silent sobs only grew louder and louder, until the young leader was crying uncontrollably. And Deadlock found himself speechless, for he came here to lecture his leader, but seeing Rodimus this broken just made him realise how young the mech before him still was.

So, he stood up and walked around the coffee table. Sitting down next to Rodimus on the bean bag chair and hugging his young leader and friend. Rubbing soothing circles right between the speedster’s spoiler wings, as said speedster buried his face into Deadlock’s neck. Hiccuping and crying, while muttering quietly to himself.

And that’s how they stayed until Rodimus had no more tears left to shed. Still clinging to Deadlock as if his life depended on it, but the Decepticon couldn’t bring himself to peel the speedster off of his frame. Not when he fell asleep mid crying and was gripping as if his life depended on it.

“Don’t worry Roddy,” Whispered Deadlock quietly, as to not disturb his sleeping leader. “I’ll always be there for you. And whoever decides to harm you, will have to go through me first.”

“I swear it.”

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Can I request some kum haehyun relationship headcanons please? I think she's super underrated.

Yup, I have to agree with that Anon. She is underrated.

-You were a close person to her, even before she started the facade of an old man, to be in charge. So, in turn she made you her personal assistant. Both in and out of disguise. Overtime, the feelings did grow on both sides. Yours for her and her for you.

-After an especially hard day, you were lying on a couch as Haehyun was just exiting the mech. She decided to do the first move as she approached the couch. Treating it as a bigger proposal, she bowed her head down slightly, as she started her courting.

“(Y/N) I find your company more than enjoyable, please let us advance forwards in our relationship.” You chuckled slightly, standing up you hugged her. She was slightly surprised by this, but welcomed your embrace.

“I would like it too.” Was all you muttered, as she tightened her hold of you.

-Tuning the robot, aka her disguise is one of your shared past times. One of the reasons is it needs constant repairs to do. Second,and more important is that Haehyun is more herself when she is outside of the mech. Which, you’ll gladly take.

-Your shared quarters absolutely are noise proof, both for the reason her secret doesn’t leak out and people not finding out about your relationship. Although, there have been some rumors regarding your relationship with her facade. The handmaidens like to gossip, so some of the rumors have gotten to you as well.

“Did you know that there’s a rumor saying we’re together?” You could see the color leave her face, as she thought the truth had been revealed. But she relaxed the moment she realized it was just a rumor.

“Well, they aren’t wrong.” 

-She plays gugin (The harp thing she plays) in her free time. You like to read a book, next to her as she plays. It is relaxing to listen. You usually hum to the tune she is doing. After she is done playing the tune, she turns her attention to you.

“I take it, you liked it?

“Please, I like everything you play. It’s simply impossible for you to play something I don’t like.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

-She wants to somehow get you carry the family name with her. She has thought about making you your own disguise, for this to happen but she isn’t sure how to proceed with it. How would she tell the handmaidens and such about her suitor, and where they just appeared from. In these times, you have assured her you don’t mind doing this. Or, whatever she decides as long as you get to be with her.

“Haehyun, whatever you decide to do, I will be there.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, as long as I’m with you, I don’t care how it is.”

-She scares potential suitors off, whenever someone gets too close to you. In her disguise it isn’t exactly hard to do. Everyone knows you as an assistant to the Haehyun family, but some people are dumb enough to try and get close to you.

“Say, you free later? I’d love to catch you without that old man.” 

“Oh, actually I'll be busy later.”

“Don’t be like that..” A large hand was placed on the creep's shoulder. They turned their heads upwards to see Haehyun staring down at them.

“They said, they’re busy.” With that the creep bowed down to you two and started spitting out apologies.

“Of course, sir! Sorry, sir!” With that they speed-walked away from you two. You turn attention to Haehyun, who had a small face on.

“You know, they find you scary enough already with that disguise on.”

“I know. But, seeing that creep’s reaction was reason enough to do it.”

-She does wonder how others would react, if you two decided to make the relationship public. It would also mean that her real identity would have to become public knowledge. She isn’t ready for that, but she does ponder how to satisfy both her duties and her own personal life.

-She gets easily jealous. She is constantly worried that because of her facade, she isn’t spending enough time with you. But, you calm her down everytime, when you bring her tea and just be with her. Either in her facade or outside of it.

[rin-yellow]

Shitty Fan Theory Corner: G-Witch is giving me M3 vibes and this makes me very scared for future episodes lmao

SPOILERS FOR GUNDAM: WITCH FROM MERCURY and M3: THE DARK METAL ahead, PROCEED AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Okay I might just be going insane from the fact that they left us with THAT ending before hitting us with a recap episode today I am SEETHING

(for the record, future readers: this was written on the 14th of May, 2023, but depending on your timezone it might already be the 15th)

(AAAANYWAYS , here’s to what might be my first longform post on this blog that’s not totally an art post lmao)

Okay hear me out.

If you’re here, you probably already are a G-Witch fan, if not: WATCH THE FUCKING SHOW, THEN COME BACK HERE. IT’S WORTH IT and also you will understand my pain.

Anyways, this might be surface level shit, but while watching G-Witch, alot of the plot beats have reminded me of one of my old favourite guilty pleasure shows. Specifically, M3: Sono Kuroki Hagane/”The Dark Metal”.

For those unaware, M3 is essentially this randomass mecha show from 2014 that I’ve seen nearly nobody talk about since 2014, probably because alot of people thought it was kind of trash.

While I admit the show is VERY flawed, I have a huge soft spot for it. I actually planned on posting fanart of it here at some point and then promptly forgot like a doofus, so might as well post that here now actually, just for the fun of it.

(above: Raika Kasumi, one of my personal favourite characters for the sole reason that she’s kind of a girlboss and always pilots the “normal” mech in the show and still somehow manages to kick ass.)

(above: the “Vess” mecha she pilots. These are OOOLD sketches but yea. Raika is the only straight person that matters)

Anyways, M3 is a story that is like 100% different from G-Witch wherein it follows this world that’s slowly being covered by a place called the “Lightless Realm” and a bunch of fellas who are technically in a school but also a military organization but not have to pilot mechs in order to fight off the monsters that come out of the lightless realm. So like, not even close to G-Witch.

Big takeaway is the fact that it tries super hard to be Gasaraki but it is not Gasaraki and so popular 2014 anime fanblog mcfuckface hated it and so everyone hated it and then it faded into obscurity even though the show went like,,, super hard despite its clunkyass flaws.

‘Coz Gundam’s y’know, it’s Gundam, the mechs fight other mechs, not kaiju. ANYWAYS,, the reason why I found them similar is in their plot, rather than the world and the characters.

See, M3′s mechs, the VESS, have only a very limited effectiveness when piloted into the Lightless Realm, wherein piloting a mech there for too long will kill the pilot, having their bodies get infected with “NecroMetal”, the titular “dark metal”, so to speak. This is a problem until really early in the show when a mech known alternatingly as the “MA-VESS” or “Argento” or “The Shinigami/Reaper” is introduced, who is seemingly immune to the effects of the whole “pilot is slowly being fucking murdered thingy” going down.

I think you see where I’m going here, but if not, let me spell it out for you:

the “big plot twist” with Argento is the fact that the mech is being essentially powered by the main pilot’s older brother, hence why he’s the only one who can pilot it, and why it’s immune to the “slowly fucking killing you” effects of the lightless realm.

I don’t even gotta say who that reminds me of.

Yeah.

(I apologize for the edit, I literally found an SD Aerial finally in-stock at my local hobby store and knew what I had to do LMAO)

I’m not fucking done, by the way.

Alongside this, we also have the fact that Emiru, a character who was thought to be a major player early on in the show fucking “dies tragically” in an early episode and then we never actually see her body, only to reveal that she’s actually powering another mech: Sable.

The “early tragic death” part makes me think that maybe El4n might be powering the Pharact (similarly to Eri’s whole deal) due to its dark colour scheme (”Sable” means something along the lines of ‘dark’, iirc) and also the fact that every other insane fan theorist seems to think so too.

Also they experiment on children.

Literally a Belmeria moment.

(above: seriously, this bitch is just like Bel fr fr)

(operates the fuckin’ child broiler and everything)

(pretty sure we get the main science dude’s assistant and Belmeria both vomiting over the main science character, in Witch’s case Prospera, explaining their evil science things. Which makes me scared. Because the Evil Science Dude dies by being torn apart by the ghosts of the people he wronged and like,,, Prospera is WAAAY too cool and sexy to go out like that. If anyone should do it, fuckin’ Delling should be torn apart by the ghosts of Vanadis, that’d be funky and cool lmao idfk)

Also, later in the show, the Argento gets this cool powerup that has really similar vibes to Aerial Rebuild’s weird EMP thing that killed Sophie, and then just like Suletta, the pilot of Argento basically is expected to use it every episode going forward up until like midway through M3′s second season, shit just STOPPED WORKING midway through the buildup to a super badass scene wherein the protagonist claims he’s gonna “save everyone” or something. And then it turns out that the older brother inside the suit just up and FUCKING DIED because it overstrained him.

While Eri didn’t fucking die, she did do the that thing in the most recent episode when Suletta was building up to deep fry Guel. Yes, that WAS Miorine’s betrayal, but everyone has basically decided before the next ep. even aired that this is Eri leaving Aerial’s body. Which is basically just the upgraded main mech turning “useless”, just like in M3.

And M3 ends with the character the audience assumed was “just a funky guy” who was actually more fucked up than he let on who asserts himself to be “a better fit” for the main love interest fighting a reinvigorated version of the main mech powered entirely by, if I remember correctly, the protagonist empathizing with “the machine itself” or something like that, whilst being haunted by a fucked up guy. If Suletta fights shaddiq again at the climax of the show, and one of her allies is fuckin’ El5n or Guel, or HELL, maybe even fuckin’ Sophie’s ghost,,, I will go even more insane.

Also Mahmu and Emiru have proto-Sulemio vibes and I think at this point that’s just the “I’m going insane from trying to cope” rather than rational thoughts but like I figured y’know. Might as well say that while I can lmao.

(she does not run and thus gains two: a cool robot AND a girlfriend! I need to publish my 10k word long Mahmu x Emiru M3 fanfiction somewhere before I go FUCKING INSANE,, seriously I am going fuckin’ bonkers these two have such SuleMio vibes with the whole “Sassy Boss Bitch who is actually really emotional but has no clue how to express that x Shutin SoftGirl who WILL FUCKING shank you” dynamic)

(plus there’s the whole thing about Emiru essentially forcing Mahmu to hate her in order to try and get her to open up to people and shit. And Mahmu misunderstanding this and being emotionally devastated every time she sees Emiru up until she realizes it was an act because Emiru actually wanted to be closer to Mahmu. Also having the realization inside of a giant fucking human-powered robot. Plus Emiru throwing essentially her life away because she wanted to be something. If that’s not a SuleMio type vibe, idfk what is.)

Look at how fucking gay they are even though M3′s producers were COWARDS and didn’t explore their relationship more also the fucking quote about fighting “for happiness [instead of] revenge” AAA I hope that becomes a SuleMio thing too. I am going insane.

Also both M3 and G-Witch have EXTREMELY banger 2nd ED songs that totally give away the “big twist” kept hidden during the first season (”put the big sibling into the fucking robot” lmao)

Y’allready know Red:Birthmark by Aina The END,,,, but give SABLE by Nano a fucking listen, this shit is SUCH A FUCKING BANGER. Ik it’s in english entirely but that just means you can sing along and I fucking LOVE the song it is driving me insane lmao

This shit goes hard, it goes crazy, fucking hell.

There’s actually more, this is mainly a surface level observation. Anyways someone PLEASE fucking remind me either right before or after the next episode airs to elaborate because either this will be confirmed or I will be totally wrong and if I am wrong I will be very happy because I don’t actually like predicting shows but G-Witch has me going CRAAAZY.

Anyways if you got this far I apologize. I will probably regret this entire post in the morning.

But yeah, what did we learn? G-Witch isn’t just The Tempest and Utena mixed with Gundam, it’s also M3 but with better writers and even gayer. Also I am going insane.

BUT THAT’S JUST A THEORY, A GAY THEO- [i am shot numerous times]

[dankxsinatra]

Gonna be honest, I can't bring myself to be particularly excited for the MW5: Clans game whatsoever. I can just see now it's gonna be slow, plodding, trudging mechs even though clantech is absurdly fast for what are already supposed to be nimble machines, and now you'll have omnimechs, which'll be a whole new layer of them getting it wrong by using the same old hardpoint system so they can advertise subvariants and configurations as separate mechs on the steam page. Plus, it's Smoke Jaguar, so all of this is in service to a story where everyone's a comically petty asshole to each other for no reason

Has there been more than a teaser trailer released?

If they haven't done anything interesting with the game play I'll sit this one out. As much as I'd like to pilot some clan mechs (ideally in a way that they are supposed to perform), if it's just mechwarrior 5 merc game play all over again I'm not interested.

Especially if I don't have the merc business management aspect of it to play as well

It's a shame it's not more of a sim w/ mechs that feel truly deadly

[cleverthylacine]

6. What’s one fact about the universe of Voice of Stanix that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Well, the series is still updating, so this is something that has not come out yet. It is likely to come out sometime this year though. Gonna put a cut here because it is a spoiler although I'm not giving away too many plot details.

If you've read VOS as far as Every Day Is A Winding Road you know that Nickel--a medic--was actually gobsmacked to learn that sparklings can be produced by spark-merging. (Winding Road is still updating--it isn't done until all the major Events of MTMTE have either happened or been averted!)

Ratchet has mentioned elsewhere that Cybertronian medical science doesn't have any idea what the gestation tank is actually for. They know it's only found in forged mechs or mechs who came up out of the ground all by themselves, except for the Cougaraiders. Ratchet got interested in Cougaraider biology because he mentored Glit and put Ravage back together on numerous occasions, and one of the things that intrigued him is why a cold constructed model would have a gestation tank. In his mind, that is perverse and cruel, because the gestation tank is a useless organ whose main function is to become malignant, so why would you put that in a construct design?

However, on the Warworlds, everyone knows that if you're Kaiju (the polite word for "Predacon", which is considered a slur in their culture) and you spark-merge with your lover, you can get sparked up and have a sparkling. Lyzack is astonished that Nickel doesn't know.

When Nickel tells Glit, he is so freaked out that he forgets Howlback and Ravage have already had theirs removed and harangues them both about not getting knocked up--especially Howlback, because her partner is also a beastformer, unlike Soundwave. (I guess he can blame information creep. Howlback and Ravage were significantly less than a vorn old when they had theirs removed, and he wasn't involved in the decision; Ravage's got broken when she was beaten, so Ratchet took it out, and Howlback had Hook remove hers so she could have really amazing valve mods put in.*)

The Warworlders were originally colonies of mecha from Uraya (like the Eukarians), where there were always a lot of beastformers. They joined the Decepticon movement but they weren't down with it when Megatron got colonialist and expansionist. Maitriona (Megaempress) quietly volunteered her Warworld to guard a distant border and then just quietly stopped responding to comms. A few million years later. Deathsaurus got completely pissed off by the same issues and publicly fucked off to join her.

Anti-beastformer prejudice is the legacy of the Quints. The Quints could not subdue or find a good use for the Predacons and tried to wipe them out; the Iaconian nobility finished the job, or tried to.

So, after the Quints left and were scrubbed from the archives, rampant Iaconian colonialism drove the Urayajin off Cybertron, and they and the Vosni were the only people who still knew what sparklings even were.

You see, the Quints realised that one way to keep their slaves in line was to make normal reproduction impossible for them and they wrote a virus that disabled internal reproductive protocols, and then relied on the reproductive system of Cybertron itself to create the 'hot spots'. But the virus didn't work on Predacons. And since the Quints were written out of history, and the Primalist, functionist Iaconian colonial government wrote the history after every other culture was essentially destroyed or fucked off to live somewhere else, everyone just thinks this is how they are supposed to reproduce.

What's blue and bigger on the inside than the outside?*

A TARDIS?

Well, that too, but I was thinking of Howlback's valve.

[lorekeeper-backset]

Here's some more What Ifs. Again, free to use but I'd greatly appreciate it if you sent the fic my way.

What If… Rhea’s Plan Worked? I don’t have much to say on this one. The results of Rhea’s plan are so painfully ambiguous I don’t know how this would go.

What If… There were Two Byleths? This is based off a fanfic idea I had a while back and I'm sure plenty of people have already done this. Basically, instead of one singular Byleth there are two twin Byleths, one female and one male. I’ve named these two Blythe and Theo respectively because why not. Both Byleths would be quiet and reserved like in canon but for different reasons. Blythe would be the brooding, serious one who hides a fiery temper and is fiercely protective of Theo and views herself as his older sister, despite being twins, while Theo would be more nervous and a bit of a shrinking violet, though better with people than Blythe. Each one would also represent a different part of canon Byleth’s skill set, differentiating them from each other more. Blythe takes on Byleth’s combat skills, being terrifying on the battlefield and channeling all that repressed anger into her fighting. Meanwhile, Theo takes on Byleth’s tactical skills, more at home poring over a battle map then on the battlefield himself (though he is by no means incompetent when it comes to battle, just not quite as good as Blythe) and he almost seems a different person when planning, always keeping a level head and giving orders without hesitation. Yeah, I put a lot of thought into this. As a consequence of this, Sitri actually possibly survives since it’s basically impossible for her to have surviving twins if she doesn’t.

What If… Byleth Met Byleth? This is literally just a Fire Emblem Heroes fanfic. And technically possible in Fifth Path since we know Three Houses Anna met Heroes Anna. Though if I did write that it would be non-canon to the fic.

What If… Kostas Killed Edelgard? Surprised I didn't think of this before. It’s such an obvious question.

What If… Edelgard went Feral? It’s common fan speak (or, at least, it’s common BackSet speak) to refer to Post-Timeskip Dimitri as Feral Dimitri. But what if instead of Feral Dimitri we got Feral Edelgard. I don't know how this would happen but it’s a question.

What If… Fodlan Lost its Rulers? Or, in other words, what if Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard died before Edelgard got a chance to start her war. Probably more war.

What if… The Old Gods Came Back? Remember all those saints we kept running into who were guarding ancient weapons as monsters and whatnot? What if they decided “screw it, let’s get back into the world” for some reason. Maybe due to the war, maybe due to boredom. Who knows.

What if… Fodlan had an Infinity War? No, this isn’t a Marvel crossover. Well, not technically. The only Marvel thing in this would be the Infinity Stones which, instead of everyone racing to stop Thanos from getting the Stones it's instead everyone racing to get the Stones themselves. More specifically, it’s Edelgard vs. Rhea vs. Those Who Slither in the Dark. Edelgard wants the Stones to make her perfect world, Rhea wants the Stones to bring her mother back, and Those Who Slither in the Dark want the Stones to get revenge. What are the Kingdom and Alliance doing during all this, you might ask? Trying to avoid getting steam rolled, of course.

What if… Fire Emblem: Three Houses IN SPACE!? Yeah, I’ve got nothing. I just want to see the Three Houses characters in space.

What if… Everyone had Mechs? Again, I just want to see mech battles with Three Houses characters. Like, Dimitri could have a big bulky mech with good armor and a lion theme. Meanwhile, Claude could have a quick and nimble mech with poor armor but good range and, obviously, a deer theme. And Edelgard’s mech could have high fire power and the ability to fly with an eagle theme to fit.

What If… Fire Emblem: Three Houses Took Place a Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away? Okay, this one is basically a Star Wars crossover. But I have so many ideas! Like I figure maybe Byleth and Jeralt can be Mandalorians who lack a clan and have cool custom armor. And Sothis is either some sort of droid attached to that ship (why doesn’t Star Wars have organic piloted ships with Droid AI (vulture bombers don’t count they don't have organic pilots)? Kind of weird, if you ask me) or some weird force thing. And Felix, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Dimitri can all be Jedi Padawans. Felix is the one who has trouble keeping his emotions in check and is always teetering on the edge of the Dark Side and may even use it sometimes (which actually isn’t unusual, some Jedi do use minor Dark Side abilities). Ingrid can be the serious one that��s always trying to get the other to focus. Sylvain can be kind of like Anakin just without secretly being crazy. And Dimitri can look like a golden boy but is secretly even closer to the Dark Side than Felix.

[porkcracker]

Au-dventcalendar

"Advent Advent mein Soulmate brennt"

A Transformers Soulmate Adventcalendar

Day 3

Ship: Ratchet x Drift x Rung

AUs: Enemy-Lover Identity Marks

The war is over and Cybertron is being rebuilt. In the meantime, the crew of the Lost Light is searching for the knights of Cybertron. Ratchet and Drift are happy to have found each other, but their elusive third remains a mystery.

Everyone has a soulmate, but some people have two. Which, in most cases, would make everything a little easier, but Ratchet could never have it easy, could he? Every Transformer had two names engraved on their wrists: one for their foe and the other for their soulmate. There were, however, a few cases in which a Transformer had two soulmates, which made it easier to identify which name was for your destined enemy and which name was for your soulmate.

While Ratchet was thankful for having met and bonded with Drift, he was still a little peeved over the second name. Drift and he often talked about their missing third. Both agreed that they wouldn't be unhappy without them, but it still felt like something was missing.

There were pros and cons to everything. Two soulmates meant easier identification than for those who had only one, but it also meant that it was harder to find both soulmates. As he continued to look through his reports, his mind continued to wander to Drift and their so far undiscovered third, his thumb brushing over the engraved glyphs building Drift's name.

With a sigh, he offlined his datapad and rubbed his optics before placing the datapad down on his desk. With his mind drifting like this, he wouldn't get any quality work done. Throwing a glance around his office, his optics stopped on the chronometer, marking the moment he realized how long he had been staying.

Checking his COM's, he noted two messages from Drift, one informing him that his conjux was finished with his shift and one from two breems ago, reminding him that his shift was already over, a fond smile forming on his faceplate.Seeing as he wouldn't be finishing these reports this cycle anyway, there was nothing else to do for him. Stretching his arms, Ratchet stood up and picked up his datapad before leaving his office, and after a last glance around the medbay, he left.

Not many were still up and about at this time, but the few bots he crossed paths with received a greeting nod. "Hello, Ratchet." His attention turned towards the smaller bot that had started to walk next to him. A polite nod accompanied his greeting: "Hello Rung, I'm surprised to see you up and about this late." The therapist shrugged lightly and explained, "I had a late drop-in. I assume you had to finish reports? " Ratchet hummed in agreement, and a content silence settled over the two as they walked.

Once they reached the hallway splitting off towards Rung's quarters, the therapist stopped, and with a small smile, he wished Ratchet: "Have a nice off cycle." "You too, Rung." Ratchet replied as he continued down the hallway towards his own quarters. Rung was probably one of the busiest mechs on board, doing overtime as often as he himself did.

It didn't surprise Drift that he was back at the habsuit before Ratchet, considering his conjux had the habit of working way past his actual work time. After a short moment of consideration, he sent a short message to the medic before leaving the main room.

Stepping into the berth room, Drift moved towards the closet and opened it. Inside were a couple of different things, ranging from old datapads to some cleaning supplies. He reached inside and pulled out the mattress he used for his meditation. Closing the closet again, he put the mattress on the floor. Putting his swords to one side carefully, he settled down on the mattress in a crisscrossed seat.

Meditating was always a sure way to help him relax after his work shifts. Closing his optics and relaxing his frame, Drift started his meditation exercise. After a few exercises of emptying his mind, he started to systematically work his way through various thoughts he had had over the day and hadn't had enough time to think about.

As most often, his processor ended up on the thought of his conjux and the mystery of their third. The problem wasn't that they were unable to find them, but the fact that the glyphs of the second name weren't any of those either of them had seen before, least of all those they could read or translate. It made Drift quite curious about who could be their third be, if their name was something neither of them had seen before. 'Maybe we will find them on this journey?' he mused to himself, before opening his eyes again and ending his meditation session.

Standing up again, he reattached his swords and then took the mattress, folding it and then putting it back into the closet. Checking his chronometer Drift decided it was time to eat something. Leaving the berth room again, he stepped into the main room and walked over to the Energon dispenser.

Getting himself a cube, he filled a second one for Ratchet so his conjux could eat something as soon as he got back. Sipping his own cube, he placed Ratchet's on the table and took a seat on their couch. A beep from the door alerted him to Ratchet's return.

Rung watched Ratchet as he continued walking, before turning and walking down the hallway ahead of him. It was always nice to talk to Ratchet. Not only did he actually seem to remember him and his name, but he also wasn't one of his patients. This meant he could talk to him without a layer of professionalism to avoid closer relationships, unlike his patients, with whom he couldn't have a deeper relationship.

However, he wasn't completely open with Ratchet either. Absent-minded, he curled his hand around the wrist that had engraved both Ratchet's and Drift's names. He hadn't told either, aware that neither had his name engraved on their wrists, not even as an enemy.

A humourless chuckle escaped him. It was no surprise that even when it came to soulmates, he would be forgotten. Never the less, he wished both of them good luck and hoped they would find their third, even if it wasn't him.

Reaching his habsuit, he pushed in his code for the door. It opened with a beep, and he stepped inside, the door closing behind him again. His habit was pretty empty; the only furniture was the standard furniture. The only personal touches were his modelships and various datapads for professional and personal use. Pouring himself a cube of Energon, Rung walked over to his couch and sat down carefully. Seeing as he was in the privacy of his habsuit, Rung reached up and removed his glasses, carefully sitting them down on the table.

It seemed like he was really destined to be forgotten and alone. He sighed and took a sip from his Energon, but alas, he couldn't change that, now could he? And even if he could, Rung wouldn't want to interfere with the fate of his friends. He shook his head to get rid of the thought. There was no use breaking his processor over it. He couldn't change existing facts.

It had been a shock to remember that he hadn't always been Rung, but in reality, he was Primus. To be completely truthful, he wasn't sure how to act exactly. What he did know, however, was that it meant he would be able to assist the crew with their current predicament. Rung, or was it Primus Now?, curled up even more, staring into his Energon cube as he contemplated how he could possibly assist. Before he could think about it further, his doorbell chimed.

Confused, he blinked. No one ever visited his habsuit, and he wasn't expecting that to change anytime soon. Apparently, he had taken too long for his unexpected visitors, as the door was opened manually and Ratchet and Drift stepped into his habsuit, the door closing behind them again. The two mechs stood at the opposite end of the room and looked at him expectantly.

Still curled up on his couch, he stared back, confused by what they could possibly want that couldn't be cleared over the COM's. "Can I help you?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge, but Drift was faster: "You're our third!""And you didn't tell us." Ratchet added, with a pointed look towards his wrist accompanying his statement. Rung looked to the side to avoid optic contact, which led him to realize he wasn't wearing his glasses. "I didn’t know I am Primus." he argued, but as he turned to look back at the two visitors, he knew even before Ratchet started to talk that it was an excuse. Ratchet suppressed a sigh. He knew Rung wasn't self-confident, but he would work on that. "Rung, you have both our names on your wrist. What else would it mean? "he asked. Drift agreed with a nod.

He watched both his soulmates as they talked. "Well, as far as I knew, you didn't have my name, so I just assumed it was a mistake.", Rung stated with a small shrug and now Ratchet really couldn't help, but roll his optics. "Well, it wasn't, so let's talk. Do you mind if we sit down? ", Drift asked, as Rung motioned them to sit.

Drift plopped down on the couch next to Rung. Ratchet followed his conjux and sat down. He was looking forward to having both his soulmate's close. Rung smiled slightly, maybe he wasn't forgotten after all.

[caeloservare]

Endless skies

Mass Effect AU

James Ironwood was born on Earth just in time to see his dreams of exploring the stars become true and to be drafted into the First Contact War. Too young and too traumatized by the conflict to know better, James joined Cerberus as his best bet on whom to trust to work for the best of the humanity.

He proved to be a good engineer and even better leader, so no wonder he quickly climbed ranks and soon became head of one of the research and development departments. Still an idealist, wasn’t aware of what exactly Cerberus’ bussines looked like. He gladly did his best taking part in exploring new planets and designing new ways to mine various resources.

However, the lid on Cerberus is never perfectly sealed, so he started to doubt and slow down works on things he had a bad feeling about. Maybe because the facility he used to run, blew up in a little too unsettling circumstance. Maybe because he found a little holes in security systems to fish information from. Definitely because he knows, he stopped the reactor from exploding and yet, something went off, taking half of him with it on the way out. Cerberus was kind enough to reconstruct lost limb and organs, but he never shook off feeling of involuntary becoming a lab rat for new cybernetic technology.

More and more clues led in the direction he didn’t want to ever follow. The final straw was finding out that the Atlas mech that he put a lot of effort into experimenting with, intended for safer mining of dangerous materials, was in fact turned into a weapon.

Ungodly pissed, James parted ways with Cerberus effective immediately. Not blowing anything up was a goodbye gift, due for saving his life earlier and not so eager to harm anyone that could get caught up in the fire. The Atlas mech should have been destroyed along with blueprints, but it would cost too much to achieve in means James refused to take. He already did enough being part of the terroristic organization.

Very outskirts of the galaxy seemed like a good place to settle. A few people of his old crew followed and so a colony started far away from everyone and everything. Having stolen enough of tools and plans, he started building up a rather peaceful, actual research facilities that soon started to gather various people from the whole galaxy. New Atlas grew and now gladly sends specialists whenever needed, mostly to aid in ever expanding science.

Their peaceful attitude should never be mistaken for weakness though. None of the Atlesians gathered under James’ care will take shit from anyone. It took only a few people to fuck around and have found out that crossed wrong, they’re not force to be messed with.

On top of that, James likes to throw a wrench in between Cerberus’ gears, but he takes time to keep low profile and wipe all the traces perfectly. Only people he decided trustworthy know about this little hobby of his, even if all Atlesians in general share rather cold approach towards Cerberus at best.

Overview:

Age: in his 40s

Looks: as in rwby, still prefers elegant clothes, alike in form to uniforms. Right half of his body is cybernetic

Affiliation: runs his own colony and organization called Atlas. Formerly member of Cerberus

Characteristic traits: metallic piece of neurotransmitter above right eyebrow, slightly limps on right leg (found a tracker there and destroyed it. All the more reasons to hate Cerberus)

Attitude: pretty chill - been there, done that, too old for this shit. Enjoying the freedom that remote and boring planets offer, so much less stick in the butt than his usual. However pushed, can still bite and be incredibly petty. Very protective of his people.