#tf fanfic

[blu-writes]

By Primus’s Will Pt.3

A/N: I’m sorry for the long wait between chapters! I’m currently moving and have been swamped with completing art commissions to help fund said move. ^^

TW: talk of wounds, blood, talk of death

"Thank you human." You looked up at him, still nervous over the fact that an alien robot sat in your garage.

"Y/N. You can call me Y/N" He nodded and closed his eyes, continuing to let you try and work on his side.

You wiped some of the sweat from your forehead and put the dirty rag over your shoulder. You had gotten his bleeding to stop temporarily, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. Especially if he woke up and tried to leave.

Turning and looking at out the door to the shed you saw the trail of blue “blood” beginning to dry and stain the floors of the shed. You filled a bucket with water from a tap in the back of the shed and tossed the water onto the concrete floor. You grabbed a brush broom and began to scrub at the spots.

You heard sirens racing near your house and looked back towards the road. An ambulance came racing towards your shed, nearly running you over before transforming into another tall robot.

“Where is Optimus Human!? He needs my attention!” You pointed into the shed, where he had to lean down to see into the building’s doorway and he dashed inside kneeling to look at his friend.

“I’m guessing you’re who he referred to as ‘Ratchet’? I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” He stayed silent, studying Optimus’s wounds and your handy work of his bandages.

“I tried my best to bandage him up. I don’t know how your bodies work-“ He turned around quickly and stared at you “Do you always talk so much? You know nothing about us yet you seem so calm and collected. Does our presence not scare you?”

You flinched at his words, realizing he was right, but you were scared at the two gigantic beings in front of you. “Trust me, I am absolutely terrified. But your friend was hurt. And bad. I don’t know where you two came from or what you’re doing in my garage. But I don’t want you to lose a friend because of a bad fall from space.”

You turned and started to leave the garage, huffing to yourself when a voice called out. “Wait Miss/Mr. Y/N. I want to thank you, and I want to apologize for my friend, we've grown custom to not trusting everyone we come across. And our situation is not very common, so your level-headedness during this has been surprising to say the least." You paused as he spoke, still facing the door to leave, and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. I can't say I blame him." You turned and walked out of the garage, still hurt by the quick judgement from Ratchet. “Stay here as long as you need. I’m going to close these doors so nobody can see you from the outside. If you need me, open the door and honk your horn once. I’ll hear you.”

Before either of them could say anything else you closed the doors and went into your house. The hot air of the desert was thick and you were happy to get back inside and cool off in the comfort of your home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Optimus’s POV ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ratchet watched every step Y/N took, careful to make sure they didn’t try to do anything hostile against either of us. Trusting somebody entirely new, and of a different race, would be hard. Not only for Ratchet and I, but for every other Cybertronian who came to Earth and tried to form any kind of alliance with the humans.

“Ratchet-“ A cough rattled through my chest, making an awful echo in the garage. I covered my mouth, drops of energon falling into my open palm. “Lay down Optimus. Your condition is only getting worse, I need to patch you up immediately.”

“If you hadn’t been so worried about talking to that human maybe you would be in better sha-“ I looked up at him as he caught himself, before groaning as Ratchet pulled out a large chunk of what looked like a rock, it’s tip covered in bright blue fluid.

“She/He patched you up well enough to keep you stable.. Impressive..” Ratchet dropped the rock and began working, his large hands working efficiently and quickly, stopping the bleeding much better than it had been before. “If it weren’t for Y/N, who knows what condition I would’ve been in by the time you arrived.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes focused on my side as I sat back up, making sure the wound stayed closed. “Y/N seems wonderful Optimus, They do, but we can’t go trusting a random Human just because they helped us. We’ve never had good luck with humans, all they want is to destroy us and use us for parts.”

Wrong. Bumblebee had a wonderful Human friend, he was the first scout sent here, instructed to stay hidden amongst the humans. Until a decepticon scout had managed to track him down. “How is Bumblebee? Have you managed to fix his speech yet?”

Ratchet turned away, sighing. “No, his voice is..irreparable. I’m still baffled he even survived that ambush.” If only I had been here to protect him. “And what of his human?” He looked back at me this time, shaking his head.

“Unfortunately she didn’t make it. Bee is lost without her, they were partners for 3 years. And he blames himself for her death.” I couldn’t help the frown that spread across my face. “I could’ve saved them both.”

“Optimus-“

“I could’ve saved them, Ratchet. It’s my fault Bee is injured, and it’s my fault that his friend passed away.” The door to the garage slid open, and Y/N stood there, refusing to make eye contact with Ratchet.

“I want to know who you are, and what you all are fighting for.” They turned to look at Ratchet, scowling at him. “I can help more than you think. And you can use this garage for whatever you may need.”

Tag List: @jaguarthecat

[the-decepticon-apologist]

Me trying to remember the plot for the TF fanfic I was writing after I haven’t touched it for 7 months:

[jarofloosescrews]

I got to take part in the @tfbigbang-blog and it was such a great experience.

I wanna thank my author partner, @legendtrainer for all their time and work, please check out their awesome story here:

Summary:

In just a few short days, the Autobots, already on the back foot in their civil war, have lost their single greatest advantage — Prowl.

Unable to pinpoint the culprit, Jazz grows desperate. His faction doesn't have the time or resources to burn on a protracted, dead-end search, but Jazz knows they can't afford to give up. There are no long-term prospects for survival without their tactician.

Taking the investigation into his own hands only gets him pity from those who think Prowl is long gone and that Jazz is in far too deep, but he doesn't see another option.

He's gotta do it anyway.

---

Also huge thanks to the mods of this project, it was a huge project and their organizing skills were impeccable.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ Iacon's Sweetspark — Sentinel Prime x GN Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed (except for TFOne spoilers)

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Absolutely 100% the type to spoil his sparkmate. He knows how much pride and praise can mean to someone, especially because he holds it in such high regard personally, and he doesn't hold back either when it comes to it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Has a very strange dynamic with PDA. Either has a very public relationship where you'd have PDA 24/7 or would be extremely selective on who gets to even know you're with him to begin with, no inbetween

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Keeps you buffed constantly, it's one of his favorite ways to bond. He loves feeling like he's keeping you clean and polished, and he absolutely preens whenever you compliment how well-kept his plating is

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels safe enough around you to complain about his dealings with the Quintessons, he just flops across your lap and expects to be pampered while he laments about how hard it is to be the best

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't seem like he'd be very attentive on the surface, but in reality, if he likes you enough to have you as a sparkmate to begin with, then he's definitely deeply smitten. He knows all your cues of how you're feeling by spark and immediately starts fawning over you if you seem stressed

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Not really the type to run around and do a bunch of things himself. He prefers to coddle you in his arms and order people around his base to do things for you both while he sticks by you for emotional support

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Definitely uses wing language to try and flirt with you before you're officially together. Stretches them out wide and makes sure they're kept shiny and clean to seem as impressive as possible

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Generally makes big entrances to show off to you. He loves hearing praise and getting compliments from you, so he does impressive flight tricks or big glamorous gestures to achieve that

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gets very defensive for you when it comes to the Quintessons. Any slights or comments of harmful intent don't slide at all— he'd rather work the miners to their protoforms than have those slimy bots get their tendrils on you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Despite all his boasting and bragging when you're in public, he tends to be more vulnerable when it's just the two of you. He's clingy, kinda whiney, and more willing to talk about his actual motives and feelings without the haze of public appearance suffocating it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You're the only bot who can calm him the best when he starts ranting or raging. Whether you're gentle or firm, he responds to you better than anyone else, even if he's kinda pissy about it afterwards

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He once got a bit sloshed off of high energon and spent several hours making a nest for you both out of berth bedding and any comfortable material he could find. He hates if you ever bring it up, he's deeply embarrassed about 'giving into such insticts'

[starimusprime]

okayyyyy here me out on this one….

fancy dinner party disaster for bodyguard oplita au!

(it’s been established they do exist)

except,,, this dinner party does not go as planned

elita senses a change in atmosphere

believing a drink offered to her prime, she suggests he does not take it, as she slips away from the party to meet the butler whom offered the beverage

unfortunately, oppy ends up taking the drink due to peer pressure from the other guests and he wants to be a good prime and not disappoint anyone

queue him being drugged/spiked, and him being attacked by old followers of sentinel prime (the guards from the beginning)

he could either be attacked or, if u want a lil angst, he gets that nemesis prime treatment and lashes out, forcing elita (and possibly other Autobots) to take on a prime

either way, elita manages to escort him to safety and takes him to a medical bay

she laments on how she could’ve easily lost him again and she wasnt by his side when he needed her most :(((

(unfortunately I couldn’t include all my doodles bc the ask option has a limit of photos but I have a scene in which Elita returns to Optimus when he’s in a hazed state, but he acts all romantical towards her in a garden, she realizing that she does have romantic feelings for him, but refuses to make any moves on him bc he’s not in the right state of mind. in which he practically begs for her yada yada how much he’s been in love w her for so long yada yap. But idk about this “missing scene”,,, thats just me talkin)

I’ve sat on this for a few days now because I simply couldn’t form my feral thoughts on this into words

YES.

This is just…omg so good. I am taking it. I am pulling it out of your gorgeous art and tucking it into the fic like a cozy blanket.

Perhaps Optimus will hold a celebration at the Well of AllSparks to celebrate the completion of its reconstruction, and all Iaconians are welcome to come and go as they please. Some troublesome functionists slip some form of drug into OP’s energon before it reaches him. Elita can sense that something’s not quite right about the bots offering the drink, and Optimus recognizes them as the two Archive guards and is coerced into accepting the energon under the guise of it being a peace offering for being so cruel to him when he was cogless Orion.

Elita takes the energon from them and goes to find where it came from, but one of the guards had a backup, which was assumed to be for that guard. They give that one to Optimus and he appreciatively drinks all of it. Once the drug starts affecting his systems, leaving him dazed and confused (and wondering where his beautiful bodyguard went), the two Archive guards call out a phrase in support of Sentinel (some version of “all hail Sentinel Prime” or something) and launch their assassination attempt on Optimus, who is very nearly overpowered *but* is not seriously injured bc he can still put up a fight, though he does sustain minor damages from the attack by the time Elita comes flying in to incapacitate the Archive guards.

Elita promptly takes Optimus back to Iacon Tower and into the medical bay with the help of a couple other bots. He’s put under for the minor repairs and to flush the drug out of his fuel lines, and Elita watches, brooding and holding back optic coolant the entire time.

The missing scene is absolutely being swept into a later chapter, too :)

[hello-gloomy]

Okay, but Shockwave-

Like imagine him holding you in his servo while reading over some reports, and, at some point, he tightens his hold on your body digits, starting to caress your warm little body. It was beginning to distract you from whatever you were doing, so you stopped and looked up at him, only to find he wasn't even paying attention to what he was doing. His digit starts to go under your clothes, and you're trying to stay quiet so as not to disturb him from his work, but he starts massaging your chest, and you are letting out little mews in response to him. You try wiggling out of his grasp, but his hold is too tight.

Lol lemme stop (unless?)

[terriblyrenderedenigma]

On Transformers and Human soulmate tropes...

(i do personally attack starscream at the end, i'm sorry starscream lovers, i love him too, but he's just a sad, devious little guy.)

Just a little thought here, so, I love soulmate tropes. Depending on the plot, they can be really fun and take so many interesting paths as a medium used within storytelling, whether romantic or platonic.

But what i want to talk about specifically is Transformer x Human soulmate tropes. Like, you have this super sweet side to it where the bot can be like 'I have waited my entire life to find you, finally, I can hold you in my arms and we never have to part again'. Depending on the character/story/type of SM (soulmate, shortening it because I'm not gonna keep writing it out) trope of course.

Can I just say how...instrumentally fucked this is though? So you have this race of robots who live for, what is essentially millennia out in the wild unless they catch the smoke. Their soulmate ends up being this little creature that lives for 80, maybe 100 years tops before dying. -Unless we're going for some kind of mind switch body type thing, but we all know how that went with spike in g1.

Our beloved robo blorbos will eventually have to cope with the fact that their soulmate, the person or creature they're MEANT to be with via laws of the universe, will die a LOT sooner than they will.

This especially hits hard with the decepticons who, depending on continuity -- hate humanity already. Bots who've gone through so much, losing their home, friends, and their dignities; have to learn to put up with and accept this creature as their fated mate/spouse/conjux endura, whatever you want to call it- SOULMATE.

Then the decepticons just have to deal with the fact that they're going to lose this person too, just like they've already lost everything else and oh GOD. Maybe they choose to forget about them and move on, stay alone and mourn what could have been if the universe hadn't had such a fucked sense of humor. Maybe they choose to accept it, but never let their SM too close because they know they'll just be hurt so much more hurt when the inevitable comes.

Then you have to think about decepticons having to possibly protect their SM from other cons! From being taken and 'saved' by the autobots.

Imagine some bots or cons just flying off the handle, going crazy just to try and keep their human alive in any way they possibly can, afraid of running out of time.

(Starscream lovers forgive me for the angst)

And Starscream especially, Maybe he'd try. He'd have a great time, take a chance, and give it a go. But what if he's actually terrified? Maybe he'd also self sabotage a little, knowing the relationship will never last too long anyways; not in the short blink of time it would be next to his life. Maybe, he doesn't actually know what to do with himself in a positive relationship after being, i dunno, consistently dogged on by megatron and he freezes.

There's something actually good for him, and since he isn't sure how to receive or accept that fact, he's gone. And maybe he'll come back, but the cycle could repeat.

(Im sorry, unless you put a tracker on him and call his ass and really give him some therapy. get him some god damn therapy.)

But yeah. All around, the angst potential is immense for this stuff and it makes me sad to think about so I thought i would share it instead of just write about it in an actual fic because my character analysis and ability to comprehend my own thoughts is so shit.

Okay, CIAOOOOOO~

[sketchnskribbles]

A03 | Rectifying Fallacies

“Things have been far too quiet lately.” Ratchet mused in a low voice, with a quick suspicious look to the locked jet. “Save for our new unwanted resident, nothing out of sorts has happened in a good while.”

“They're biding their time.” Arcee agreed with a grim tone.

Bulkhead just looked plain antsy. Which went along with the thrum of anxiety that had been filtering through the air since obtaining their current prisoner. It was never a good thing to have bored soldiers itching for a fight in the same vicinity as an enemy captive.

Ratchet struggled to think of some tasks he could have them do for him. There was still that leak down in Corridor - C. They were probably also due for a quick stock check on their supplies. Decision made, he sent them off. They grumbled but complied. Leaving the main room back into the tentative peace it’d been in.

Or so Ratchet had thought.

A notification window popped up and interrupted his current task. It was Wheeljack requesting to be bridged to base. Withholding a groan, the medic inserted the command and pulled the lever. As he turned toward the bridge’s light in wait, Miko had dropped the eraser she’d been furiously using. Having finally gotten around to doing some of her homework, she struggled on figuring out the equations of her math class.

The eraser hit the floor at an awkward angle and the rubber flung itself out wide in the air. With hardly a thought, the exchange student flew after it. Her shoes squeaked against the hard ground below. Arms outstretched with hardly any notice to anything else.

Jack’s and Raf’s cries of warning were left unheard by her single-focused devotion to catching that eraser. She grinned when the pink rubber finally lost altitude in its arch and felt that she was successful in getting to the spot she needed to be to grab it out of the air.

Her legs slammed into something hard. Pain burst through her and the eraser only just brushed against her fingertips.

It began it's descent downwards… and Miko found herself going down with it. It was the in the next moment when her brain finally registered that she had hit into the railing and her momentum was taking herself over it. Down a deep drop.

Panic froze her limbs and took her voice, save for a shallow gasp as she found herself feet over head. In the next beat of her heart, she could hear all of the yells and the burst of movement around her.

In her line of vision, large gray hands swooped down in an attempt to catch her but only just missed by inches. Miko’s heart stuttered.

Everything had slowed down. Moving in time with her heartbeat. Which had become very loud to her ears. Her eyes blurred with water. Her brain simultaneously focused on the fact that she might just die, but also couldn’t find herself quite comprehending it.

Then all at once it seemed to click and found herself screaming and flailing. The air whistling in her ears.

Then she stopped.

A03 | Rectifying Fallacies

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Starscream is given a bath, Part 4:

Bet y’all thought I was done with this. I’m not done, I was just stuck on this part for a really long time. It wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, but then again, I always have doubts when it comes to Starscream’s characterization.

Anyway, it ended up being pretty long. 1298 words. I’m not all too satisfied with it, but I gotta just post it and move on.

Part 3: here

Part 5: here

——————————————————————————

“Starscream.”

He opened his optics once more, taking a few seconds to recalibrate. It appeared that he had actually fallen into a recharge without noticing. He looked down at himself, seeing that his arms and chest were looking…shinier than usual. He flexed his digits, touching the tip of every talon to his thumb. She’d done a good job, for a human. Collecting himself but still feeling a little drowsy, Starscream looked down at her.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I need to clean your vents.”

He bristled at that statement, his expression quickly turning sour. “You don’t need to do that.” He waved a servo, wings flattening behind his back.

“Come on, would you rather be breathing dirty air for the rest of your life?”

“My cooling system cleans itself.” He huffed. “I thought you knew that by now.”

“Your air filtration and internal components do. The vents don’t. They’re external.” Damnit, why did she have to know so much about cybertronian biology? The human reached up, her hands grabbing onto the vents on both sides of his face and tugging on them. He grumbled at that, still wanting to avoid this wretched fate. Nevertheless, he allowed her to pull him down. He knew by now that arguing would be pointless.

“I won’t get any water in, I’m just gonna run a towel over them.” She let go of him, stepping out of the bathtub. She quietly walked to a cabinet, opening it and grabbing a soft little towel. The human ran some warm water over it, before squeezing out the excess and returning to him.

“Lean on the side of the tub, please?”

He didn’t say anything, but did as told. His wings were hanging low, as flat as they possibly could be. Seriously? Did he hate vent cleaning that much?

“This won’t hurt a bit, I promise.”

He only grumbled in response.

The human brought the towel up to him, first rubbing it over his faceplate to wipe off anything that wasn’t cleaned by the initial run of water. She cleaned him with the soft cloth using one hand, the other holding onto the side of his vent intake to keep him still. Starscream had shut his optics as tightly as possible, not moving an inch during this part of the cleanup.

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” She asked, her voice gentle as if talking to a child. “Doesn’t that warmth feel so soothing, Starscream?”

“Don’t patronize me.” He replied, his voice muffled from the towel she kept rubbing on his face. The human just chuckled at the sight.

“Now if you just tilt your head back, I can move on to the vents.”

He did as instructed, but she could easily see how tense he was. Starscream’s servos gripped the sides of the bathtub, holding himself still. She tilted his chin up ever so slightly, noting that the seeker still refused to open his optics. Slowly and being as gentle as possible, she pressed the towel into his vents, using her fingers to assist in cleaning any grime off the grilles. The process went smoothly for the most part, Starscream obviously uncomfortable but managing to keep himself still. All the way until-

He yelled and kicked up the water when she touched a bad spot, his servos finding and gripping her wrists as he pulled her away from himself.

“That’s enough touching, thank you very much.” Starscream scrambled away to the other corner of the tub, a flash of irritation on his faceplate and a defensiveness to his mannerisms.

“Hang on, I think I saw something in there.”

The seeker wrapped his arms around his frame, pulling his knees all the way up to his chest. The human let out a soft sigh, sitting on the side of the tub and trying to sound as gentle as possible.

“Do you want me to get it?”

He met her gaze and the look on his faceplate momentarily shifted as though she’d just offered to rip his spark out. Then, his expression changed again to one of contemplation. He knew this was going to hurt. But he also knew that he was going to feel much worse over the long run if she didn’t get it out. Could she really, though? Get it out?

Starscream could tolerate pain, best to just get it over with. Better her than asking the Autobots for help. Fine, he’d trust her to get it out.

“Fine. Just… be quick about it?” He asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

The human nodded, and Starscream shuffled back to his previous spot, unusually timid. He was partially acting, pretending to be more scared than he actually was with the hope that it’d earn him a gentler touch.

“Try not to make any sudden moves, alright? I won’t lose a finger if you flinch, not there, but please… be mindful of your strength.”

“Right. The usual.” He replied with a tiny chuckle and a subtle crack of his voice.

Evidently, it had worked. She held his faceplate between her hands, positioning it just right so she could see inside the grilles- which he had feathered to a 90-degree angle for better access.

“Thank you.”

She leaned forward, peering inside. Once she had a good look at the piece of debris, she spoke up.

“Okay, I’m gonna start now. Don’t panic.”

Starscream didn’t resist, just kept his optics shut hoping that this would all be done soon. Carefully, the human reached her fingers inside- this felt weird. This felt so weird. Cooling vents were not supposed to have anything solid entering them. Not so deep. Even though he knew the human’s hand was there to help him, that she was not a threat, he had to clench his servos in order to ignore every coded instinct telling him to keep his vents clear, to remove the obstruction that was her hand immediately.

He was so focused on keeping still that he didn’t even realised she was done until his temperature regulation system suddenly stopped yelling at him. Hesitantly opening his optics once more, he was met with the sight of the human looking down at him, a shard of metal in her hand covered in dried energon.

The first thing he felt was relief, as he took in a strong intake of air and a slight smile found its way to his faceplate.

That hadn’t hurt all that much.

“See? Got it out. didn’t hurt too much, I hope.”

Seeing as he didn’t reply, she continued.

“But I think it left behind a cut, do you need me t-“

Oh no. He knew exactly what she was going to ask, and he wouldn’t allow it.

“No, no need!” he suddenly cut her off, and grabbed the piece of shrapnel from her hand, examining it. “If this is all that was in there… my frame will be able to repair any leftover damage on its own now.”

He turned his gaze back down to her.

“As helpful as you have been, I’d rather not have you rooting through my internals any longer than you absolutely have to. Especially there.” he explained, an aversion of his optics accompanying that last word. He didn’t want to seem rude, especially after all this human had done.

“Hmm, that’s fair. I guess I see why it’d be uncomfortable if our roles were reversed.”

He was relieved at her understanding. Well, his problem was solved. He should probably thank her for that. Starscream scoffed. He was doing too much thanking today.

“I’m…grateful. For the help.”

She smiled. Huh. There she went again. He could really get used to that.

“Don’t mention it. Must’ve been painful. And besides, it’s not time to thank me yet. We’ve still gotta do your wings.”

[orion-archives]

MegaSound Week - 2024

Day 4: Dreams / Nightmares

Frag

Soundwave onlined his optics, looking around in confusion and panic. He realized he was no longer standing on the bridge, surrounded by the Nemesis’ computers but laying on a berth… in Megatron’s personal chambers?!

How long had he been on recharge? How could HE have fallen on recharge on the job? How did he even get here, in his leader's room?

Soundwave, cursing internally, was lifting his body from the berth, ready to run back to the bridge and continue his work when, suddenly, someone pulled him by the arm, grabbing him tightly.

“Don’t get up,” spoke a deep, raspy voice in the dark. “I found you knocked out in the bridge and brought you here.”

Soundwave immediately recognized who the owner of said voice was and his frame relaxed a little bit. He then looked to his side and spotted Megatron’s giant frame beside him. The warlord was staring at him with drowsy optics, an indication Megatron had been recharging too.

The silent Decepticon was about to use a clip from someone else’s voice to ask Megatron to let him go so he could return to his duties, but before Soundwave could even make a noise, the warlord answered his question:

“You need to rest, stay here and recharge…” Megatron then changed to his usual commanding tone, making clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “That is an order.”

Obedient as always, Soundwave returned to laying on the berth. Megatron pulled him closer, his arms hugging Soundwave as the warlord nuzzled his head on Soundwave’s visor. He started to purr, making the silent Decepticon relax his frame, slowly starting to fall asleep again.

“Rest now, Soundwave,” hushed Megatron, feeling Soundwave’s spark beating, “you deserve it.”

Soundwave didn’t raise any objections. As he slowly fell back into recharge state, the TIC started to record the sound of Megatron’s vents and sparkbeat as he let the warlord snuggle with him.

Soundwave then thought: Maybe he should fall asleep on the job more often; it came with very good benefits…

I like to think Soundwave dreams of a peaceful place where he can rest without worry and has no pending duties, just total silence to enjoy.

Megatron's dreams are him exploding Optimus with his mind.

[til-all-are-loved]

Hihii! Your IDW megatron makes my heart swoon (he's very well written, hehe) I'm wondering if you have HCs for G1 Megatron as well? Maybe with a human reader too

oops this became like a whole thing (do people even make oneshots anymore). also this became nsfw, if that's not what you wanted please shoot me another ask and i'll redo it <3

{Mascara Running Everywhere}

G1 Megatron x Reader One-Shot

NSFW, afab reader

rough sex | power dynamics | sex servant | 2110 words

You were just an average civilian, taking a walk down a public trail into the barren hills. Hiking seemed like a good idea—a chance to get outside, feel the sun on your skin, and maybe find some peace.

Wrong day for that. Very wrong.

The Decepticons were retreating when it happened. Out of nowhere, you were scooped up in the jaws of Ravage and whisked away to their headquarters. The world blurred past, and by the time the rushing air settled, you were unceremoniously dropped at Megatron’s feet.

For a long, harrowing moment, he simply stared down at you. Cold. Isolated. Frightened. Something flickered in those piercing red optics. Not pity—never pity. No, it was something darker. A desire to control, to dominate.

Your ordeal began soon after. They kept you in a cage—small, cramped, and situated in a high-traffic area like some grotesque display. The humiliation was endless. Decepticons would pass by, sneering, their optics glinting with amusement or disdain. Verbal jabs cut deep, their cruel laughter a constant reminder of your helplessness. You sat huddled, cold and shivering, alone in your prison. No signs of rescue. No one coming to help. By the second night, your sobs echoed through the metallic corridors.

At first, Megatron reveled in your despair. The sound pleased him, a testament to your broken will. But the noise soon became a distraction, grating against his patience. On the third night, he'd had enough.

The ground trembled under his heavy footsteps as he approached. You froze when his towering form loomed over the cage, his optics blazing down at you. He stared, silent and unreadable, before the lock clicked open. The door swung wide, and before you could even think to run, his massive servo descended.

His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t gentle either. The cold metal pressed against your ribs and hips, reminding you how fragile you were in his grasp. Struggling felt pointless. Resignation set in—you would endure whatever was coming next.

He carried you briskly to another room, its dim light casting long shadows. With a calculated motion, he placed you on a dashboard. The surface was unyielding beneath you, and the room thrummed faintly with energy. Megatron pulled up a chair and sat heavily, the impact reverberating through the space. He leaned in, his red optics casting an ominous glow that painted you in shades of crimson.

Without a word, his massive digits reached out, pinching at your clothing and prodding at your face. The gestures were curious, deliberate, and invasive. You didn’t flinch. There was no point. His gaze bore into you. As you endured his explorations you were as well analyzing his expression. Irritation curled into fascination, a smile played at his lips and his cheeks rose in satisfaction. He likes what he sees.

You dared not flinch as a digit stroked your face, swiping underneath your eye.

"Hmmmm." A low rumble of interest purred out of him, vibrating through the air. "What could this be?" he murmured, his optics narrowing as he examined his fingertip.

In the dim light, you caught a glimpse of it—a dark smudge of mascara on the tip of his grey finger. Your lip quivered involuntarily, betraying your nerves.

"Be still, my sweet bird," he said, his tone deceptively gentle, though there was no mistaking the edge of command beneath it. "Your war paint is... fascinating. A pity you've made such a mess of it." He held the smudge up for another moment, as though pondering its significance, before dismissively wiping it off on the edge of the table.

"Clean yourself up, whelp," he ordered, his optics locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn. "And return to me only when you’ve made yourself beautiful again."

Before you could react, his massive servo enveloped you once more, plucking you from the table with an ease that reminded you just how insignificant you were in his grasp. The world blurred as he carried you off, his heavy steps resounding like distant cannon fire.

You were deposited abruptly onto the floor of another room, where a smaller figure waited. The one called Rumble stood there, arms full of towels, clothes, and various toiletries. His expression was unreadable, but he didn’t linger long.

"Uh—yeah, boss says to, uh, clean yourself up... and, uh, yeah," he mumbled, unceremoniously shoving the pile into your arms before scuttling away like a startled rodent. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone.

The wash racks were utilitarian and grim, but the cold saltwater that poured over you was a surprising comfort after everything you’d endured. You scrubbed yourself clean, the sharp chill biting at your skin and grounding you momentarily in the present. When you turned to the pile of supplies, you were stunned to find an array of surprisingly high-quality products—luxurious even. Brushes, palettes, and powders lay in perfect order, the kind of items someone might steal from a boutique rather than find in a warlord’s lair.

Still, you worked quickly, applying your makeup with practiced hands in the reflection of a small handheld mirror. When you were finished, you steeled yourself with a deep breath and stepped into the hallway.

You didn’t make it far. Megatron swept you up again with terrifying speed, the force of it leaving your head spinning and your heart pounding. His laughter boomed, a deep, resonant sound that chilled you to the core.

“Well, well,” he mused, his voice a twisted mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pet to entertain me.”

His grip tightened just enough to remind you of your fragility as he carried you back to his quarters. When he sat down, it was abrupt and deliberate, the vibrations from his weight settling into the chair reverberating through you. He placed you on his massive thigh so that your legs straddled him, The force made you lurch forward forcing yourself to catch yourself on your hands. Leaning in close, his optics flaring brightly in the dimness. The faint whir of his internal mechanisms filled the silence as he examined you sprawled out on top of you.

“This is where I will keep you,” he commanded softly, his massive frame looming like a storm.

It was wrong. So utterly, undeniably wrong. And yet, somehow, you grew to look forward to your days with him.

He made sure you were cared for—though in his own twisted way. Deliveries of stolen luxury poured in: designer clothes, glittering jewels, opulent bags crafted for someone with a life far removed from this metallic fortress. Week after week, the offerings grew.

He expected you to dress for him, to dazzle with beauty, and, most importantly, to entertain. On days when you failed to captivate him, his disappointment was evident. With a dismissive wave of his massive hand, you would be sent away to try again, to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

And so, you lived for those fleeting moments when his raspy, low voice would utter words of praise. It was intoxicating, his approval. You found yourself craving it. Wondering what more you might earn if you pleased him enough. Surely, you thought, even your own pleasure could one day be a possibility.

That day, you had dressed with meticulous care for what had become your grueling eight-hour "shift" of looking perfect. The black silk dress you chose clung to your body like a second skin, its elegance heightened by the glittering diamond-encrusted bangles on your wrists and the delicate silver necklace resting against your collarbone. Every detail was deliberate, calculated to ensure you looked flawless.

He wasted no time. in sweeping you up and you were placed on his lap like a prized possession.

And thus began your dance. You shifted forward, bracing your weight on your hands. Your knees squeezed tightly against the sides of his massive thighs, as a rider on a saddle. You arched your back dramatically. You turned your head, your eyes meeting his with a smolder.

If it was his attention you wanted, you had it entirely.

His expression betrayed him, a flicker of surprise mingled with excitement. You’d caught him off guard, your boldness sparking a reaction that even he hadn’t anticipated.

You reach back to pull your dress back, tightly sliding off to expose your ass.

This earned you a pantherine smile, and a firm tug on your ankle. Now your ass lined against his-- what would one call it? "Modesty panel"? You almost laughed to yourself. The implication that there could be something beneath lit your imagination on fire. You imagined yourself being stuffed with a large warm metal cock in a slew of indecent ways.

With some new inspiration, you grind your hips against his crotch. He didn't release a servo from your ankle, observing you desperately search for some friction to achieve relief. With his other servo he slipped his digits under your dress, playing with the feeling of the fabric and your hot skin. With no effort at all and a quick snap he tore the garment off your body.

In a swift motion you were flipped onto your back. You silently gasped at the sudden exposure.

"Such a fragile little thing," he rumbled, his optics burning into you. "Do you squirm like this for anyone else?"

With a servo around your back he lifted you to another that now supported your ass as well as keeping your legs parted. With a hard click his plating hit the floor followed by a soft hiss. You watched his spike pressurize against your pussy.

You squirmed against him observing this alien dick. It was already covered in a thin slick lubricant, warm and pulsating. Small red lights trailed down the underside and some between paneling in the mesh. You lowered yourself excruciatingly slowly past the tip. You guessed that it was about 18 inches in length, an intimidating girth as well. It took almost a minute of bobbing up and down to stuff half of it up your pussy.

Megatron sighed and moved into a languid position. His other servo found its way to your back again and provided firm support to guide you up and down. A fierce roar of his internal fans was all the assurance that you were thrilling him. That and the frequent low staticky sighs he made while fucking you.

"Cry for me" He ordered. "Sing for me, human"

His demand was enforced with a thrust from his hips and a rapid increase in pace, earning him a wail from you. Your swollen cunt made hideous wet slapping noises off his body. The sensation your entire pussy being stretched while being mechanically railed sent waves of pleasure through you. Every movement built the intensity higher and higher. Your skin and core burned hot, the fire rising inside you. With a gasp and cry your body shuddered and you climaxed at last, your fluids dribbling down his spike.

His relentless pace did not let up as he continued fucking you through the orgasm before his spike pulsed and throbbed inside you. The sensation of incredibly hot cum filled your already sore pussy. Already filled to the limit the pink fluid dribbled out of you.

His body slumped further into the chair and he let out a crackling groan. His hands softened their grip on you and you took a deep breath, you hadn't realized how firmly you were being held until you were free.

His head tilted back, optics dimming slightly as a rare moment of quiet overtook him. “Hmph,” he muttered, his voice low and rasping. “You endure well… for a creature so small.”

You slid to the floor and gathered yourself. Your body trembled with exhaustion and something unnamable. He didn’t stop you, his optics dim and unreadable as you picked up the tattered remains of your dress.

“Go,” he commanded, his voice a deep rumble, quieter now but no less commanding. “Return to your chambers... and prepare yourself. You’ll be summoned again soon.”

You didn’t look back as you stepped out of the room, the echo of his words and the lingering weight of his touch still heavy on your skin. The metallic halls stretched ahead, cold and unfeeling, a stark contrast to the heat that still clung to you. You clutched the fabric tighter to your chest and walked on, your mind spinning, knowing that tonight would not be the last time you would entertain him.

The door slid shut behind you with a hiss, sealing away the towering warlord and the line you had crossed.

[thetoonstation]

Nightmare

Optimus shoots up from his berth and vents heavily. He looks at his servos and find them shaking intensely. He try’s to calm down by telling himself that it was just a dream, it wasn’t real. Was it? “Starlight!” Optimus didn’t want to think of the worst as he gets off the berth and rushes out of his berthroom to starlight’s quarters. He rushes through the tower as he reaches his sparkings room and opens the door quickly and rushes over to her crib.

He sees the sparkling, recharging peacefully in her crib as her chassis rises up and down slowly. OP carefully takes the blanket of the top of her a bit and sees that her chassis is closed. No sign of damage or someone trying to break it.

He vents in relief as He covers His daughter back up so she doesn’t get cold and walks out of her berthroom quietly.

Prime lays his back on the wall as he continues to vent quietly. “Orion?” A femme voice says, startling him. Elita walks over to him, seeing how tired and scared he is. “H-hey elita…sorry did I wake you up?” Optimus asks her. “Yeah you did. I heard you running through the tower like if something was chasing you.” She says. “But are you ok?”

“Yes I’m fine. I just…had a nightmare that’s all.” The prime says as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Bad enough to be at starlights room?” Elita crosses her arm and points her digit at the door.

Optimus nods.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asks.

“Yeah…” Optimus says quietly as the two bots walk away from starlights quarters and to Optimus’s.

The two get to his room and they sit on his berth.

“So…what did you see?” Elita asks.

“I dreamt that I was in a fight with sentinel but he wasn’t alive. He looked awful. He was desperate; desperate for a t-cog to ‘fix himself’. He knew that he couldn’t get mine and…” Optimus servos clutched onto his lower arms as it hurts to even remember what happened. “I had starlight with me I don’t know why, but she was with me. I tried my best to protect her but…” Optimus stutters a bit in his words. “Sentinel was able to catch me off guard and took her away from me. I didn’t have time to save starlight as he forced opened her chassis to get her t-cog. She cried in pain as I was helpless to save her. Her energon was all over his servo and her t-cog as he held it in-front of me.” Optimus tried to stay calm but couldn’t as he started to cry. “She looked so scared…”

Elita looks at Optimus in a bit of shock and worry as she sees her friend start to cry.

“Orion…” she’s about to place her servo in his shoulder but he unexpectedly hugs her. She doesn’t resist as he embraces the hug. The femme doesn’t know what to say to help in this situation but she feels like this is the best she could do to comfort the mech.

[i-am-aristiana]

I wrote a glossary of TF terms.

PLEASE NOTE: These terms are a mix of canon and fanon. It changes from continuity to continuity, and from fanfic author to fanfic author. It’s only a guide, and I have no intention of saying I know more than anyone else. Please take it with a grain of salt.

A NSFW section exist, I will publish it in another post.

Miscellaneous terms

Berth: Bed

Bond: A permanent connection spark to spark from 2 or more Cybertronians. Can be between conjuxed couple, but also happens with twins/triplets/etc, or combiners.

CNA: DNA

Amica, Conjuxed Amica: Very dear friends, but not more than friends. Another James Roberts creation!

Conjux, Conjux Endura, Conjuxed: Married couple. Thanks James Roberts for that one! :)

Em field: Electronic field emitted by the Cybertronian that another can read / detect, no human equivalent

Energon: The blood of Cybertronian and what they drink as “food’.

Enforcer: Police officer

Kibble: All the parts that had to be removed for one reason or another. It grew to mean parts of alt mode visible in their other modes as well.

Pad: Tablet computer

Split-spark twins: Twins created from a single spark, and it “magically” turned into 2, similar to identical twins. Though they don’t necessarily have the same physical appearance.

Subspace: A storage area that doesn’t physically exist, yet they use it all the time. Thanks the 80’s for the art errors and pulling a weapon out of thin air for that term.

Body part, SFW

Aft: Butt

Armor: The outer part of the frame, what’s easy to see and colourful.

Audials: Ears

Chevron: Part of the helm, on the forehead, that looks like 2 colorful prongs. See Prowl for red chevron.

CPU: Brain

Dermas: Lips

Doorwings: Wings on the back of the Cybertronian made with his front vehicle doors. See Prowl.

Digit: Finger

Exvent: Exhale

Finials: Part of the helm that protrude from the helm. See Drift.

Frame: Body

Glitch: Either when a Cybertronian “crashes” or a very doratory term.

Glossa: Tongue

Helm: Head

Intake: Mouth, throat, lips. This one changes a lot depending on the author.

Nasal ridge: Nose

Optic: Eye

Oral lubricant: Spit

Ped: Foot

Plating: The outer part of the frame, what’s easy to see and colourful.

Processor: Brain

Protoform: Inner part of the “skin”, under the plating or armor.

Sensory horns: Part of the helm similar to ears in humans. See Jazz.

Servo: Hand

Spark: A ball of energy that contains the “soul” of the Cybertronian. Considered located in the chest

Strut: Bone

Type of Cybertronian:

Combiner: A team of Cybertronian that, when transforming, can combine into a giant being instead of individuals. See Devastator or Defensor.

Aerial: Type of frame for a flier that doesn’t look like a Seeker

Conehead: Frame type of fliers very similar to Starscream, except they have their nose cone on their helm, looking like they wear a giant cone

Femme: A Cybertronian having a “feminine” shape. Though some exceptions exist, see Strika

Grounder: Type of frame having wheels. Often derogatory.

Kaonite: Cybertronian from Kaon. Often associate with large, strong frame type, and mainly Decepticon

Mech: A Cybertronian, often “male” shaped but not always

Mechling: Teenager

Praxian: Cybertronians from Praxus. Often a frame type associated with the appearance of Prowl, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Barricade

Seeker: Type of fliers associated with Starscream frame type

Sparkling, sparklet: baby, children

[startheskelaton]

I did a script for a comic I may or may not do . Go crazy, you can read it for 6 bucks if you want

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[screenshot edit thats a bit silly--the maltos are actually generally rather chill even with star being a bit of a lil shit lmao]

This chapter really shoves Starscream into a social gathering with all da peeps for a series of goofy games. Which he roasts the shit out of the majority of the time. He's more into it at the start and gets progressively more drained from it all. It's not as fun if you don't plow the competition after all--XD

just a chap with fun family shenanigans and definitely nothing sus

Previous Chapter: Bee's Good Guy Crash Course

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Make or Break

Chapter 11: Family Feud

The “Malto Family Game Night”. An intriguing premise. One Bumblebee thought he should drag Starscream into, it seemed, despite the title clearly only set to invite those who are real members of their collective. It even seemed a stretch that the humans and Terrans considered Bumblebee an “honorary” member to begin with. The Terrans, as Earthen cybernetic children, theoretically shared some level of kinship with humans to an extent. As well as apparently being bonded to them on a deeper level. But both he and Bumblebee had no such connection, why should they be roped into human nonsense? 

Why would they allow them to encroach on their little tradition? Perhaps this was some sort of test pertaining to the practice the bug had wanted Starscream to get, after his little lecture. A challenge to see how well Starscream could interact with them. 

Well, for whatever goal the bug had, he certainly could stand a bit of competition. A chance to destroy them at their own ridiculous games? Irresistible. The anticipation of victory, especially one he could lord over the scout later, might just make the growing chaos around him bearable. 

There were too many conversations about too many things being discussed in one room. He’d tried to track a few, but quickly found his audials begin to mute the chatter with a light ringing. If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from calling them all into order himself.

Finally, Hashtag got everyone’s attention and pointed to the whiteboard that now held doodles of all their faceplates, separated into groups. “Alright fam! The teams we’ve decided on are: Me, J.B, and Nightshade with our name NightTagBreaker! Mom and Dad as Purple. Thrash and Mo as Mash–”

“‘Cause we’re gonna MASH the competition!” Thrash cheered as he smacked servos with his human partner.

Hashtag didn’t even seem fazed by the interruption, and scoffed without a hint of disdain. “We’ll see about that! There’s also Robbie and Twitch–”

“Their team’s name is Twobbie.” Mo said with the most dastardly smirk toward her brother, and a mocking tone to the name.

Robbie and Twitch both stood with crossed arms, the human retorting first with an air of superiority. “Uh no. Our name is Twin Blades!” 

Twitch plucked her swords from her back and twirled them as an example with a proud grin. “We’ve got the blades, and we’re basically twins. And way cooler than Mash.” 

Thrash gasped melodramatically with a servo to his chassis, “How dare you!”

“We’ll see who has the cooler name when we beat you!” Mo shot back with a throw of a digit in their direction. Threats so early in the competition? Bold.

Hashtag edited the name on the board discreetly, then turned to ask, “What’d you guys decide on for your name Bee? I was thinking it could be StarBee or Beam for the combo style like ours–” She gestured to her two partners– “Or BugBird, because y’know, Bee is bug coded and Starscream can fly. OR you could be Primary! Because together you have yellow, red, and blue!”

Starscream took his servo from under his faceplate to tip it at the crowd, straightening his posture with a slight tilt of his helm as he offered confidently, “Why not simply call us The Victors?” He wasn’t exactly thrilled that they had just decided that he was paired with the bug, but that wouldn’t change his plans of total domination over this strange event.

Many of them rolled their optics at Starscream’s proclamation, but Hashtag actually had to stop herself from laughing. Not entirely the correct response. Still, at least she was amused, rather than angered by his insinuation.

Bumblebee shook his helm in a way that Starscream couldn’t tell if he actually disapproved or not. “StarBee is fine, Hashtag.” He determined, then mumbled, “Even if it would be nice if my name was first…”

“Well, you always were more of just the backup, rather than a leader, scout.” Starscream pointed out haughtily. “Obviously my piece of the title would come first.” 

Bumblebee glared at him, “I am not your backup! We’re partners and this is friendly competition! And please try to remember what I was telling you yesterday…” He sounded exasperated. 

Starscream dropped his smirk and crossed his arms to align himself with a more professional posture. “Are you going to disclose the rubric, or will your little test be void of any comprehensible scale like all of your Autobot riddles?”

Bumblebee was about to respond, but the Malto matriarch, Dorothy, interrupted. “No tests. We are not making game night about work again. Right Bee?” The bug nodded, looking rather guilty. “We’re here to have fun.”

“Yeah!” Twitch flew up to meet Starscream’s faceplate, “So don’t you ruin it! Family time is sacred!” 

Starscream leaned slightly toward her, thoroughly unamused. “Yes, how dare I encroach on your ridiculous expression of familial bonding.”

“Okay guys!” Hashtag interjected, “This isn’t exactly supposed to be the mood of this scene. Can we rein it in please?” She looked more at Starscream than her sibling, with a pleading look to her optics. Twitch backed down, as did he. 

“Wonderful!” Nightshade collected a set of cards that seemed to be sized for Cybertronians. “The first game Hashtag and I decided upon from the list of requests, is Uno! Three teams will be in one group, and two in another.”

“Then we shuffle it until every team has had a chance to go against each other!” Hashtag added while shuffling the cards and splitting the deck into two stacks. “First group will be NightTagBreaker, Twin Blades, and Mash; then Purple and StarBee.”

“Would it not make more sense to put the team of three into the group with just two teams?” Starscream asked not as much for some level of fairness, but more in the hopes that he could avoid interacting with Megatron’s little spy. He’d much rather attempt their card game with Hashtag and Nightshade. 

“I mean, maybe, but we’ll get there eventually.” Hashtag gave him an awkward smile, then quickly moved on. Scrap. 

They all took to their tables and dealt the cards. Starscream attempted to read the rules from the little box that was cast aside, but Dorothy’s human conjunx told him that it was apparently quite simple. Same color, same number or action, and you could play your card on your turn. The wild card and plus four were clearly above all the other pathetic actions in the roster. Although the skip option was satisfyingly petty. Starscream managed to skip Bumblebee three times in a row, in fact, which he found hilarious. 

The bug however, was less amused, “We’re supposed to be on the same team! Could you maybe not sabotage me and actually try and collaborate?!”

“Only one of us needs to win to get the credit. I don’t need your help to claim victory over these humans at this silly game.”

“I don’t know about that.” Dorothy tauntingly raised her singular card. “Uno.”

“WHAT?” Starscream’s wings flared and he looked over at the bug’s absurdly large set of cards, then slammed a servo on the table to get his attention. “Unleash a counterattack you fool! You must have something in that embarrassing stack in your servos!”

“Oh look who came crawling back for my help.” The scout hoarded his cards with juvenile snark. 

Starscream stuttered and his optic twitched as he growled through gritted dentas. “Excuse me, but if you don’t we both lose you bit-brained idiot!”

“How about not calling your partner names, and actually asking nicely? Or just working with me instead of acting like I’m still your enemy?”

The bug was a stubborn fool. Ask nicely? Did they expect him to phrase orders as optionary as the Prime did? That’s ridiculous! And of course the bug was still his enemy! How stupid was this mech? Bumblebee had been the first to point a blaster at Starscream in the Titan. Just because the Autobots were acting as if something had changed, didn’t mean anything. This was all just another assignment for the scout. 

Wait…who said that Starscream couldn’t simply take the bug’s cards and do it himself? If they were on the same team, then what did it matter who carried out the move? He didn’t know what stupid arrangement of words they wanted from him. It’d be far easier to–

Starscream forcefully snatched the cards from Bumblebee’s servos in a crimson flash, and slapped down a plus two to destroy the Malto’s hope of victory. He made sure to keep his own remaining two cards safe from getting lost amidst his stolen pile. The bug complained and tossed his servos around before attempting to steal his cards back, as Starscream pushed against his faceplate to hold him off.

Then, Dorothy cleared her throat before crossing her arms. “I win.”

“Wha–HOW?!” Starscream shoved the bug aside before pointing a digit at the human. “You lost your turn and were supposed to gain additional cards as the action dictates! You couldn't have possibly won!” 

Her optical ridge rose and she tapped the card plainly placed upon the one he’d taken from Bumblebee. “My last card was a plus two, and I can stack it on yours. Maybe, you should have actually talked it out with your partner.”

Oh, so this fleshling aimed to lecture him now? And since when could actions be placed upon one another as a means of canceling the other out? That made no sense with the rest of the rules! Sure, if you were not at the receiving end and were simply the player that is being skipped towards–but mid-action?? That was ridiculous, she made that up!

Lightning flickered between his wings. He didn’t lose. She’d only crafted some absurd reason to disguise the fact that she was clearly only attempting to prove some point, and make Starscream look like an idiot. That’s what it was. But he couldn’t do anything about it. The human was Megatron’s little agent. Starscream would be scrapped if he did anything against her. 

Starscream’s optics were burning as he wished again that he could set those blasted cards ablaze with only his processor. This game was just another tool for them to mock him. His vents were the same.

“Chill, it’s not like losing one game is the end of the world. Even if I am definitely blaming this loss, on you. I was just the card draw scrapyard–” Bumblebee was attempting to retrieve the scattered cards, and Starscream reflexively grabbed his wrist and pulled the scout up as he rose to his peds. 

“This IS your fault!” Starscream said dangerously, even as the scout transformed out his blaster with his other servo. But as a deafening silence strangled the cavern, and Starscream stared into the bug's startled yet defiant optics…he hated it. He was doing it again. 

His anger attempted to subside, replaced by something else as his grip loosened on the bug. But the curse didn’t seem to approve of that, and it instead tried to channel its power into the servo which mistakenly held Bumblebee. Starscream’s optics widened and he wrenched his servo away. Then yelped as he found Wheeljack’s little device had sent an equal pulse up his ped in some pathetic counterattack to the power. Instead of neutralizing the surge at his servo, all it did was make him fly back clumsily, and hit his helm on the ground. All while the power still felt as if his arm was being ripped apart by scraplets.

“Uh, you guys okay over there??” Twitch called from their own game.

“Ugh…Peachy.” Bumblebee commented dryly as he picked himself up after having apparently fallen back as well. “Someone is just a sore loser.”

Starscream only sat up to grip his violently shaking servo as he glared at it. He wasn’t like Megatron. “Perhaps…It was an overreaction.” He couldn’t apologize. He was too distracted. But he could acknowledge the bug’s point. Maybe that would be enough. 

Bumblebee watched him a moment before a ridiculous grin came to his faceplate. “No kidding.” 

The scout offered Starscream a servo, and he stared at it hesitantly as the lightning slowly died from his frame. He didn’t smack it away, but he didn’t take it either. Instead, he forced his annoyingly numb right ped to cooperate as he pulled himself up. “Besides, with the human’s knack for simply realigning the rules to her whim, how could either of us be at fault? Megatron clearly taught her well.”

“Excuse me?” Dorothy put her servos on her hips. Apparently his comment was somehow offensive. Even the buckethead’s agent detested being compared to him. How poetic.

Starscream paced to give himself enough distance from bot and human alike, before tipping a servo and his hip out in unbridled sass with an innocent vocalizer, “Oh but I’d never blame you for such a thing. In fact, I might have pulled such a stunt myself if we were more acquainted. Although that was a bit of a clumsy rule you constructed in your haste. Perhaps I could give you some advice for–”

Dorothy put her servo up to silence him. “No. I didn’t make it up. Well, not right at that moment–it’s just a common house rule for the game. It makes things a bit more interesting, and can lead to crazy close calls like that.”

“Yes we would never cheat! Especially Dottie!” Her conjunx attested with a protective servo around her shoulder, which she patted with hers. Disgusting.

Starscream’s faceplate scrunched at their show of affection, but willed himself to put on a smile. “I meant no disrespect, truly.” He gave her a half-afted bow, then began assisting the bug in collecting the cards that had fallen to the floor. “So I assume we shall be shuffling the groups now then?”

Not a moment later, there was an obnoxious uproar from the kids as the Twin Blades team celebrated their victory. They had their own argument about how it was achieved, yet it seemed more out of curiosity for their strategy. Of which they happily went into dramatized detail. They all laughed and congratulated them, with playful counters at how close it had been. No one was angry, or accusatory. The only touch they shared was gentle. Starscream stared at them, transfixed. 

Sure, it was not as if he had always fought with his trinemates over such silly things. But still, there had typically been some sort of transition into a wrestling match to settle the true victor. Anything close to that here was meager at best. He wasn’t surprised…only, afflicted with a strange sense of yearning. Which was ridiculous.

“Sounds like it.” Bumblebee remarked as he placed the now reforged stack of cards on their table, then added teasingly, “Are you actually going to be my teammate this time, fly boy?”

“Yes, it seems that might be necessary.” Starscream avoided the bug’s optics as he took his seat again. 

Team NightTagBreaker switched places with Purple. He didn’t quite care for the dinobot, but the other two terrans could be rather pleasant. Although it did seem that “J.B.” was far more focused on the game than attempting to bite his peds this time. 

Starscream and Hashtag shared a glance, and he was the first to break the silence between them, “Do not expect us to go easy on you.” Mimicking her siblings’ manner of playful banter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” She responded with a theatrical tone and servo to her chassis. 

“If anyone should be going easy, it is us!” Nightshade added, to which the dinobot seemed to finish the thought.

“Yeah! Because–we are three bots, and you are not.”

“Don’t think that numbers are everything kids.” Bumblebee warned as he fanned out his new selection of cards in his servos. 

This time, Starscream collaborated with the bug as they discreetly disclosed which cards they possessed, and plotted how to best use them. He used his skips to instead protect his unlikely ally from unwanted card draw, until he could change the color again. As well as parrying reverses, or waiting until the other also had a plus two, as to avoid friendly fire. Perhaps that strange rule could be rather useful, when he actually knew to utilize it. Then, he also did not see why they could not stack other actions in such a way as well…

When the scout had called Uno, the dinobot attempted to skip him to postpone their victory. Unbeknownst to them, Bumblebee also had a skip card, but the bug did not place it down. A pause for dramatic effect?

Starscream cast aside his own useless cards and smacked the bug’s shoulder plating. “Reveal your card already you–eh, just what are you waiting for? We won. Cancel their action with yours!”

Bumblebee looked baffled as he stared at his card then back at Starscream. “What?? Jawbreaker skipped me, I can’t cancel that. It’s your turn. Why don’t you use that reverse card you had?”

Starscream’s wings pulled back and he ripped his cards back off the table to hit them with his other servo. “This scrap will do nothing to change it to the correct color! Why on Cybertron can you not just do as that human did before?! Countering an action of equal title mid-attack is perfectly legal in your stupid house rules! We’ve even done it multiple times this round, how is this any different?”

“Stacking only works with the plus two’s and four’s,” Nightshade attempted to explain their absurd standards, “It is not as if you can add onto one skip with another.”

“Uh-huh, you can’t do that Starscream, that’d be cheating.” J.B. insisted like a foolish child. “Right? Because, that’s definitely against the rules.”

Lightning jumped across Starscream’s frame again.

How was he the one cheating? Their “mom” had come up with it first! Noone had cared when she did it. How did it make any less sense to use the skip card in such a way than the other one? Of course the skips could be added onto one another! All they’d need to do is make it a double skip so that–if he and the scout didn’t already win–it’d send the next turn over to Hashtag. How was that concept so hard for them to understand? This game was stupid. 

Bumblebee nudged him, “Hey, we haven’t lost yet!” Starscream didn’t look at him, nor say anything for a long stint of time. “C’moooon, what cards ya got huh?”

Starscream’s optics flickered red and he took in an extended vent, then hiked his wings up with a strained grin and peak to his vocalizer. “Fine, yes, of course! Let's look at what cards I have. Numbers and a single useless reverse action? That will surely lead us to victory. Especially, when as soon as I place something down, those three will no doubt begin a chain of plus two actions of which you would be defenseless against. Or a plus four. Or they could start a reverse chain between one another. Or lock us in a color neither of us have in a plot to instigate the idiotic notion of infinite card draw!”

“You don’t know what cards we have,” Hashtag seemed to be getting frustrated with him, “And besides, it’s just a game. If we outplay you, we win, it’s not that deep!”

“Well, Uno does contain a higher percentage of RNG than skill, but that is a fair point regardless.” Nightshade nodded.

“Um, so, can we just…finish the game now?” J.B asked meekly.

Starscream’s wings swiveled up and down as he forced the stupid power back into the corner of his spark. “Sure.” He could play nice for Hashtag’s sake.

The game proceeded just about as insufferably as he anticipated. He and the bug ended with far too many cards, and Nightshade claimed the win for their team. That was fine. He didn’t care.

Every other match of that accursed Uno left Starscream and Bumblebee once again so close, only for it to be ripped away time and time again. Every instance, more inane than the last. How could they have not even won once?! The last time was entirely the bug’s fault, when he’d blatantly ignored Starscream’s order. He made sure to tell the scout just how stupid that had been, but then the others only seemed to get mad at Starscream for it instead! 

The next game that was chosen attempted to usurp the last in stupidity. The “tic-tac-toe” was near impossible to not end in a tie. It had to be replayed repetitively until a victor was concluded. It was boring, exceedingly plain, and the only viable strategy was far too easily thwarted. In fact, when Starscream was in the midst of cornering their opponent, they instead reversed it back onto him! Bumblebee had obviously ruined the whole thing with his insistence on starting in the middle when it was clearly best to start at a corner. Even when they finally did manage to succeed in one matchup, it was anticlimactic as slag. 

The next was a quite straightforward game titled “Spot-it”. All that needed to be done was match an icon on your own card with the one in the discard. And finally, Starscream was able to dominate. Every single match, he rapidly pinpointed the correct image and practically blazed through his entire stack with only minute lapses in his speed. No one stood in his way! No one even got a chance! It was glorious! 

Starscream laughed maniacally as he gained yet another point without the pathetic aid of the bug. “HAHAH you all are not even TRYING! This game is far too easy. Or perhaps you simply have a slow processor for such things, eh, Bumblebee?” He flicked the bug’s helm and fluttered his wings. Elated that he at long last obtained even a fleeting moment of triumph amongst them. “Good thing you have me to carry your constant lag.”

Bumblebee glared at him, then rolled his optics, “Riiiight. You’re taking this whole thing way too seriously.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Starscream stated in a more dismissive than questioning manner with a slight tip of his helm and a shrug. “What’s next then?”

“Pictionary!” Hashtag held up the box with far more excitement than she’d had previously. “Nightshade and I even made more little figurines and an extended board for all of us to play together!” She and her sibling began the setup, while J.B. distributed the items required for each team. “The person who draws whatever it is rotates, then the others on your team need to guess what the person is trying to show them! The color on the board determines what subject it is, and you kinda get a bit of a clue on what it is from that too.”

Simple enough, if the bug could draw a straight line. Starscream claimed the marker first, as he was far more confident in his own artistic ability. The first object he got was a “basketball”. He didn’t know what that was, but he did know how to depict a basket and a ball separately. Surely the scout could comprehend an icon based word puzzle as simple as that. Which he did. But the words only got stranger from there, and that is where their downfall began. 

Items like “Taylor Swift”, “Swan”, or “Cell Phone”, were ridiculous. Was he supposed to have done research before this blasted thing? They had to redraw cards in an attempt to acquire a usable item multiple times. Yet even then, there were many moments where the bug had far too much confidence in his ability to depict whatever it was he’d gotten. His illustrative skill was predictively lacking, and he was lucky Starscream had been able to make out any of it at all. At the very least, Bumblebee was adequate at determining what Starscream was forced to illustrate. 

The worst of it was when there had been the perfect opportunity to draw himself throwing Megatron into the Pit–for the action topic of course–and the blasted timer ran out before he could finish! Apparently there needed to be some sort of middle ground in which to prioritize what details were necessary. He could make sacrifices for the sake of their victory, sure, yet it was still disappointing. How was he to find any sort of satisfaction in this game, if he could not at the bare minimum depict the buckethead getting tossed into a scrapheap?

Although he would admit that this game certainly seemed the most balanced, those with their ridiculous bonds and understanding of one another, inevitably gained some sort of advantage. Which got annoying fast. Every little moment longer the scout took to guess what the item was, or the next incoherent blob he depicted, made the tapping of Starscream’s ped quicken. 

Starscream growled and his wings flicked back, “NOW what is it?” He squinted as the crude image began to take some sort of shape. “The Autobots?” The bug shook his helm and gestured for it to be more general. “Cybertronians?” A gesture for him to elaborate. “What other word is there!?–” His optics flashed red, with a brief moment of his spark feeling as though it were being wrenched out of his intake, as the word came to him–“Transformers.” A disgustingly rudimentary title. Of course that was all that they were reduced to in this human game under the subject of pop culture. 

He was correct. But he still felt distant from the bug’s excitement toward their apparent close call. Starscream hit a servo against his own helm in an effort to knock out whatever had possessed him. This reflex was evidently questionable, but he was easily able to brush it off. He couldn’t have his processor glitching in the midst of this event. It would not only be quite discomfiting, but would also bring more petty disruption to something the Terrans seemed to have put a great deal of effort into. He had to keep it under control.

By the end of it, he and the bug only managed to cross half of the spaces needed to win. Infuriating. Starscream despised losing. They weren’t even able to claim second best. Pathetic. 

By the next game, Starscream was decidedly over it. 

This “Charades” only served to make one dance around like a fool in some absurd hope at expressing the word on their slip of flimsy scrap. It was near identical to the concept of the last, but regressed into something far less tolerable. Perhaps it could be more amusing if it was less about imitating Earth creatures and instead aimed toward mimicking someone else in their group. That had been a favorite amongst his trinemates back in the more tolerable cycles amidst the Decepticons.

Bumblebee flapped his arms around stupidly as he attempted to display what he’d plucked from the pile. He looked utterly ridiculous. Starscream would never catch himself offline doing such a thing. What was the bug even supposed to be? He was acting as though he were attempting to fly, similar to how Nightshade seems to need to operate their alt mode. Clearly some form of Earthen avian, but how was he supposed to know which classification was required?

“Ugh,” Starscream rubbed his optics, “what do you call those tiny avian creatures on this planet?” 

“Birds!” Twitch chirped in an oddly endearing manner.

“Right. That is what he is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, basically.” Bumblebee halted mid motion to shrug, then whirled his arms around before finding his balance again. “Think we can count that one Alex?”

“Mmm…” Dorothy’s conjunx, Alex, squeaked his uncertainty at the notion. Obviously unsatisfied with such a vague answer.

Dorothy smacked his shoulder, although it looked like it barely connected. “I think we can give it to ‘em. Starscream hasn’t exactly gotten as acquainted with what all our little guys here are called yet.”

“I don’t need your pity points, human.” Starscream muttered in a visceral hiss. When would he have had the time to study such things? Why should he care what all these birds were labeled on this insufferable planet? He had far better things to do! Starscream had a million other exceedingly more important matters that required his brilliant processor, than reverting back to cataloging miscellaneous fauna on some backwater rock!

 “Oh, I suppose it’s alright.” Alex relented, none the wiser to Starscream’s bitter comment. “Why don’t you try another one, Bee?”

Bumblebee chuckled as the timer ran out, “Sorry pal, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until next time to witness my famously flawless acting skills. How about you and Dot go next? Gotta show me your moves too!”

Starscream watched the rest of them play out what remained of the game with blank optics. The images he processed paced in a choppy framerate, and the clarity distorted to a lower quality. A moment's glance at the scoreboard told him that there was absolutely no way they would win in the larger scheme of things. It meant nothing. He couldn’t even attempt to sabotage the competition, or challenge the validity of his competitors' victories. He’d surely get caught, and only gain pointless drama that’d get him into trouble. Which he did not need more of.

Had he even passed that scout’s stupid test? Even if Starscream didn’t claim the more favorable glory he sought, it’d be worse if the failure was calculated against whatever new standard Megatron sought from him. Starscream was actually surprised his ever looming Lord hadn’t made further appearance by now. He was sure something was bound to happen soon. Perhaps this was all some sort of means to get him to let his guard down. Or to determine what could be used to force him in line. Megatron might be getting a byte more creative in his time as a traitor. Even if he was attempting some type of psychological approach, surely he’d revel in any excuse to beat the slag out of Starscream for any reason he could pull out his exhaust pipe.

This whole ordeal seemed too calm. Too casual. They all had many moments of clear annoyance towards him, yet constantly held themselves back but only a few meager remarks. It was not as if he held any particular power in this situation to warrant them to fear standing against him. They only seemed unsure, or dismissive. Even occasionally acting as if their apprehension was entirely absent. They were clearly hiding something. 

Starscream had been lost in his own thoughts for so long, that he’d just about missed their little awards ceremony to conclude the night. That was until there was a crack and pop that sent a far too familiar shock through his muddled audials. He flinched and stumbled backwards away from the noise. Nearly trampling one of the Terrans but unable to utter an apology as he barely processed their presence. 

It was only a device to distribute colorful material over the crowd. Their laughter was mocking him. Their celebration over their stupid series of trials that they rigged towards their own success, was disorienting. 

Starscream was done. He’d played their games. He was not about to attempt to decode what they wanted next. 

He stealthily retreated back into his corner of the cavern. It hadn’t been all horrible, he supposed…Regardless, he was tired. They were all too loud in the wrong way. 

The curse flared with thoughts echoing some stupid impulse that’d use its power to blast them into oblivion. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. Then their threat would be neutralized.

But that wasn’t right.

Lightning flickered and stabbed across his frame as he now sat with his wings to those soaring seekers on the wall. He just wanted to leave. To fly away to a Cybertron where they were waiting for him. Where he too could enjoy such festivities. Where they’d cheer his name for his achievements. Where he could revel in their praise–perhaps even…alongside his trinemates, untainted by his mistakes.

Where…it would all feel real.

[starimusprime]

ok ok!! ya got me to start a talkin!! ok so anyways im not much of a storyteller but my hc is post movie so big fat spoilers on the way

anyway, elitas been like SUPER clingy to optimus after she gives him the lil pep talk

peep the images. constantly being by his side. heck, even CHOOSING to run ACROSS the battlefield to be next to him

so oppys like “hmm, she DOES know what she’s doing and i do need someone who’s more experienced in leading.”

yea THAT scene (her flustered “who me 🥺??” will forever be living rent free in my mind)

(ew wips)

optimus: Well, I’ve been thinking of another promotion; With the Quintessons still at large, there’s a chance they’ll have my head. I’m needing a bodyguard. Someone by my side 24/7 to ensure I don’t make “stupid decisions”

(im terrible at writing dialogue dont bully me 😔👊🏽)

so elita sees this as an opportunity. Which yknow, her whole character arc was her wanting to prove herself and all.

especially now bc she feels SO SO guilty that she couldn’t save optimus, or stop Megatron in time :((

(adding to this hc she does cling to his left arm after the events(tm)

Oh yea and oppy now lives in the tower as he is now The Leader Of Cybertron

he moves most of his pals in their too (jazz, B, WheelJack, Arcee etc.)

HOWEVER THO

(nother wip)

he wants elita in HIS quarters bc shes his bodyguard. so of course he’s gonna need her berth closest to him

(Perhaps 2 ppl 1 bed trope teehee 🤭)

anyway. das my 2 cents. i hope that helped in anyway for prompts. again i aint much of a storyteller but i have concepts!!

I need to break this down into a summary of my favorite points because WHAT THIS IS SO GOOD!

Clingy Elita. Makes sense, especially her tendency to be on his left. Launchpad for tension, perhaps Optimus starting to wonder if she’s okay because she’s being overprotective even for a bodyguard.

Optimus seeking leadership advice from Elita since she was the captain of his mining team and he’s never been in an authoritative role for anyone ever. Builds trust, confidence, and mutual respect between them. Beautiful.

Mutual subconscious pining revealed through Elita’s desire to prove herself via protecting and advising Optimus and through Optimus’ desire to station her as close to him as possible at all times, maybe because he is as afraid of losing her as she’s afraid of losing him (again). Did I mention mutual pining? 🤌

Optimus not just taking over Sentinel’s tower (does anyone know its official name?) but sharing it as a sort of headquarters with his Autobot High Command. Love exploring the facets of his being that separates him from mecha like Sentinel, selflessness being one of the biggest differences.

Thank you so much Munejewels I am eating this up for dessert tonight and will use it as inspiration to produce a banquet for my fellow Optimus Prime X Bodyguard Elita fans