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doqt33th · 1 year ago

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MIRAGE/READER

SUMMARY: You and Mirage have been pining for each other for a while now. A nasty summer storm drives you straight into his arms. Shenanigans ensue.

WORD COUNT: 18k. Sorry I’m insane

WARNINGS: 18+ and I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! Explicit PWP, fingering + oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mild spit kink. Reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns but is written fairly androgynous. No descriptors of appearance beyond the basics and no (y/n) used.

Familiar streets flashed by at increasing speeds, traffic and pedestrians flickering by and blurring together into a smorgasbord of color, all gilded by the setting sun. Unconsciously, you dug your fingers into the seams of the leather seat beneath you, worrying the stitches. Out of the corner of your eye, the radio blazed to life with color and that oh-so-familiar symbol.

“Hey, hey, easy on the merchandise, hot stuff,” Mirage crackled out of the speakers lightheartedly, and you immediately yanked your hands into yourself like they’d been burned. In your worrying, you’d seemingly forgotten about what — or rather, who — exactly was your ride.

“Oh— my bad, I wasn’t thinking,” you said, sinking your weight back and down, instead picking at your nails to give your hands something to do. God, you were so nervous, and for what? Mirage knew all these people— these bots, and knew them well. They were all friends! Or amiable towards each other, at the very least. And they were the good guys. Saved the world and all that.

So why were you so anxious?

“You’re good, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. Your leg started to bounce. “Sooo… you wanna tell me what’s on your mind? Save me a trip to Noah’s repair shop? I’d hate for you to start taking your emotions out on me, y’know.”

You scoffed, eyes sliding to the radio. The grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth was one you were helpless to stop. He just had that effect on you, where around him you became a slave to your laughter and, additionally, also became one half of a terrible joke machine that Mirage happily completed.

Leather creaked as you nudged the inside of the door with your boot to chastise him. “You love when I take my emotions out on you, dick. Don’t lie.”

“Only the good ones,” he shot back, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “You nervous about meeting the others?”

His probe was successful; you fought the urge to shrink at your feelings being read so accurately and so immediately. “I— yeah. I am, and I don’t even know why. I’m sure they’re all great, I’m just working myself up over nothing.”

Red faded to green. Carried on the tide of forward-moving traffic, Mirage rolled ahead, eventually slipping over to make a turn. You watched him twist his mirrors to check his blind spot.

“Ah, c’mon. Nobody could blame you, you’re meeting a bunch of aliens for the first time. Pretty trippy for anyone. ‘specially if those aliens are, like, double your size. And robots.” A short chuckle topped off his words.

“Right. I just don’t wanna fuck it up or embarrass myself, you know how it is. I don’t wanna embarrass you, either.”

“Oh, Primus, trust me. You’re not gonna embarrass me. I don’t even think that’s possible. Prime’s seen me in a lot worse shape than bringing you in to meet him.” The world continued to roll by. Brick buildings blotted out the sunshine in intermittent flashes. “You got good marks from your favorite bot, you’ll be fine.” The dismissive tone of his voice was working, in a weird way, to assuage your fears.

“Excuse me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest pointedly. “My favorite bot?”

“What, am I not?” A downright theatrical gasp hissed out of the speaker. “Have you been cheating on me?”

Cheeks hot with a flush at even the joking insinuation of being together, you glanced away from the impassive Autobot symbol on the radio and out the window. Still, the laugh barked out of you was sudden and sharp, and quickly dissolved into giggles. “Yes. Mirage. I’m sorry. There’s another ten foot tall alien robot in Brooklyn that’s been vying for my attention. We’re done.”

“I should throw you out on the street right now,” Mirage fussed playfully, his evident pout tinging his voice. “For breakin’ my spark. Also I’m taller than that.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m fragile.”

“I dunno. Noah gets his ass kicked around pretty good and he’s still kickin’ it.”

“I am not Noah,” came your tongue-in-cheek rebuttal. “And Noah just refuses to give up even when it’s good for him.”

“Thought qualities like determination were supposed to be big things with you guys.”

“In moderation.”

Mirage barked a laugh. “Ha! Should tell that to Prime. He’ll blow a gasket.” You opened your mouth to reply, only to be cut off. “No, seriously, tell it to Prime, we’re here.”

The easy confidence that your playful back-and-forth had teased out instantly chilled into a dense mass in your stomach; Mirage was rolling slowly up to a nondescript warehouse buried deep within the old industrial part of Brooklyn, and the way the worn brick loomed over you even in the car made your heart rate pick up.

Now or never.

Familiar alien whirs and clicks of shifting and setting metal filled your ears as Mirage rose into his bipedal mode, the driver’s seat gently ejecting you onto your own two legs on the pavement. Following the motion, you took a few steps forward, but still balked a little at the half open door. Inside, you heard voices of varying timbre, and you fought the urge to turn tail.

Now. Or. Never. Gritted teeth accompanied the repetition of your thought.

The displacement of air behind you — and the soft, constant mechanical noises emanating from his body — signaled Mirage’s presence before his voice.

He said your name with surprising care, using a tone that only came out when he was really being sincere. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed at it as you turned, craning your neck up to meet his gaze. “Hey, you, uh, you want me to go in ahead of ya? Normally I’d be like ‘ladies first’ and all that, but you said you weren’t feeling too jazzed about going in—“

“Yeah, actually, if you could, that would be… great. That would be great.”

“Gotcha. Let you psych yourself up a little more before you go in, I see how it is. Let me do the talking,” he affirmed with an easy grin and a nod, bouncing on the balls of his pedes a few times before striding forward. His long legs folded easily under him as he ducked under the lowered garage door, and you traipsed after, smoothing your thumb over your knuckles repeatedly.

The warehouse yawned beyond you, orange shafts of light cutting gashes into otherwise brownish darkness. Old graffiti sprayed across the walls told you that Ramona had been there once, then Nick, then Darnell, and a million others. And you were there now, feeling impossibly small, yes, but a little more resilient with the fading sunlight at your back and Mirage, like always, at your side.

He’d become a permanent fixture in your life from the day you’d met him — when you’d strong-armed Noah into giving up his secret about his Porsche, and the mysterious car had ended up being a twelve-foot-tall robot with a literal motormouth that made a playful pass at you within the first hour of your first conversation. You’d been flustered out of your mind, but had just kept coming back out of unfettered curiosity and outright fascination. Aliens were real, and Noah was friends with one, and it— he could turn into a Porsche.

Mind-shattering observations on the surface, yes. Mirage tended to deflate the grandeur, though, because he never acted like aliens did in the movies or in books. There was no ‘We come in peace!’ bullshit. He was so easy. Everything with him was so easy. He was loudmouthed and extroverted and genuinely hilarious; you spent hours in Noah’s garage trading terrible jokes — mostly bad sexual innuendos — or buckled to Mirage’s driver’s seat as he flew down Central Avenue on the wrong side of the limit and blasted Haddaway so loud it nearly busted your eardrums.

Weird to say an alien robot was your friend, but he was. He gave you rides to work, to your lectures, to your labs, wherever; in fact, he got petulant when you dared to take the bus one day to give him a break, and made it a point to pry your routine out of you so that he could take you wherever you wanted, no fares needed.

So infuriating. You loved it.

You loved… maybe more than just the back-and-forth. Maybe more than the bad jokes. Maybe more than the late-night drives. You were starting to think— starting to realize you loved big blue optics, and the rumble of a 260 horsepower engine when you made just the right innuendo, and broad, incredibly intricate servos that dwarfed yours in size but were so, so careful…

Man. You tried not to think about it too much. It as a concept made you laugh with its own absurdity. Poor human chick fell in love with the giant alien robot that made her laugh. It wasn’t… debilitating. You still functioned like a normal adult. Mostly. Except for that one night like two weeks ago where you’d been arguing with him about some stupid shit and he’d scooped you up, right off the ground, in both servos and held you there, digits interlaced against your back and thumbs on your front.

It wasn’t the first time he’d ever held you like that — he’d done it a few times — but something was different that night… even if he’d only done it to gain an upper hand in your bickering. The air crackled with latent electricity, made your skin buzz in all the right places, especially when Mirage had gone quiet for once in his life as he stared at you in his grasp. When you’d prompted him with his name, he’d only responded by gently stroking a thumb over the swell of your chest, which had made you gasp air in so sharply that it burned in your throat. The metal left a tingling path on your skin under your shirt in its wake and immediately sent your heart rate skyrocketing past whatever the fuck was a normal BPM.

He’d snapped back to reality at the sudden expansion of your lungs and had attempted to play it all off as a joke. You remembered how you’d still stumbled when your shoes touched the ground, an absolutely insane feeling of genuine heat rocking you as your brain seized the feeling of his touch while it still sparked against your nerve endings and helpfully replayed it over and over and over again. Sure, the rhythm of banter came back after a stuttering beat, but you never really cooled the warmth on your face for the rest of that night — and when Mirage had dropped you off at your apartment, your door was shut and locked for about five minutes before your shaking hand was frantically worked beneath the waistband of your pants.

…Whew. Definitely something a little more than friendly there. Maybe even more than pure love, something a little slicker and deeper that buzzed against your bones and coiled low in your stomach. It made you feel a little weird — just objectively, because of what Mirage was — but damn if it didn’t feel good to indulge.

God, fuck, why were you thinking about that now, of all times? Escapist fantasies be damned, you were going to meet Mirage’s comrades-friends-coworkers and leave a good impression. Not drool over the worn-out memory replaying in your head for the thousandth time this week.

Out of the darkness and around corners, they emerged. The stealth wasn’t on purpose; you didn’t even think they could be stealthy. Oh, one was coming right for you now — tall was the only word your brain could muster. Tall and red and square were added to the list of adjectives as the stately bot approached, servos collected into fists at his sides and shoulders thrown back.

“Priiiime,” Mirage greeted warmly, throwing his arms out at his sides in his favorite pose. “Look, hey, I know what you said about bringing more people around, but I swear— Hey!”

Completely ignoring your friend’s (status pending) greeting, the bot— Prime, holy shit, this is THE Prime, was kneeling down, leaning forward, and he was right in your face. You fought the very biological urge to flinch. Blue optics considered you for a moment before narrowing and flicking to your right from his lowered position.

“Mirage,” Optimus started with a gravelly tone from behind his faceguard that communicated exasperation above all else. “I explicitly stated that for our safety — and yours — that we were to come in contact with no more humans.”

“Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Kinda hard on a planet that’s got, what, five billion of ‘em? Six?” Mirage glanced at you for backup. You stared back flatly, refusing to say anything that might put you on the business end of a laser cannon.

“You were told to remain incognito so you could recover.” Optimus continued, his gaze returning to you. With a shunk of shifting metal, his faceplate slid away. His faceplates were weathered; the chipped metal around his optics gave the illusion of wrinkles and eyebags. Tired. He seemed tired. “This is not incognito. What is your name?”

You gave it after taking a beat to steady yourself. He repeated it back to you. “How did you come in contact with Mirage?”

“I, uh— Noah, Noah Diaz, he’s my friend. I basically pried it out of him,” you said with a nervous laugh. “So it’s not Mirage’s fault. I’m just nosy.”

At the mention of Noah, Optimus seemed to visibly relax; he moved back slightly, though he remained kneeling, and the narrowed, suspicious squint of his optics rounded out into something much softer.

“…I see. Then I assume you understand the… precarious nature of our existence on your planet.” he said, his tone grave and his optics searching your face.

You nodded, pressing the flesh of the inside of your cheek between your teeth for a moment as you came up with a suitably diplomatic response that still conveyed your friendliness. “I do, yeah. Noah told me most of it. What he could, anyway. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not— I’m not a threat here. Like I don’t work with the, uh, the government or anything. Whatever you guys need help with, I’m available, even if that just means keeping my mouth shut.”

Christ, you were glad this wasn’t your day job. You’d be such a shit ambassador. I’m available. What the hell did that even mean? Fuck yes, you were available, your brain guffawed, thinking of broad metal thumbs brushing over your chest.

You blinked hard, squeezing your eyelids together until the world came back in a photo negative, to scold yourself.

Although you’d stumbled through your reply, Optimus seemed to approve. He rose with a great creak of metal off of his knee and backed up to give you space, though he still regarded you with those sharp blue optics that felt as though they pinned you to the concrete below. “I see Noah chooses his company well. I should have assumed his sentiments would extend to his companions.” He shut his optics for a moment and dipped his head, as if considering deeply what to say next. “I am not sure how much Mirage — or Noah — divulged to you.”

“A fair amount— well. Any amount that won’t get them in trouble,” you called up, taking in deeper breaths to project your voice up the two stories of height to his head. To your side, Mirage snorted. “I know your name— Optimus, I know that, and I know about the Autobots. A little bit about the— fuck, what were they called—“

“Terrorcons?” Mirage supplied, and you were impressed at how quiet he’d been otherwise.

“Terrorcons, thank you. Other than that, not much. How much should I know?”

“Your knowledge is sufficient. All we fear — and all we risk—“ Optimus added with a pointed look at Mirage, who looked incredibly sheepish. “—at the moment is discovery. So long as you maintain secrecy, no harm shall come to us… or you, for that matter.”

It almost sounded like a threat, but Prime worded it very much like a warning. You decided it was best to heed his word — not that you really had another option.

“Right. Okay. Well— I mean, it was nice to meet you. People — humanity, I guess — aren’t bad. Most of us aren’t, anyway. Just, uh, let me know if there’s something Noah and I can get or do for you.”

Prime’s gaze shifted away from you. In fact, it seemed to shift away from the warehouse in general, looking somewhere far beyond the now-shut garage door. “Your generosity is admirable, but it is not humans primarily that we are concerned with.”

Brows furrowed at his vague answer, you thought it over for a second — and then decided not to push it. He probably knew best when it came to whatever foreboding nebulous space threat loomed over your collective heads; you would leave it up to the experts.

“Oh, well, golden rule and all that,” you still offered in terms of a response. That got his attention. His massive head tilted downwards to look at you once more with curiosity. “If I crash landed on someone else’s planet, I’d want them to be hospitable, y’know? Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Like he couldn’t handle the terrible punishment of silence anymore, Mirage butted in. “See, Prime? I told you she was cool.”

A short jolt shook the broad, boxy line of his shoulders, and at first you had thought he’d coughed, and then you realized he laughed. It was barely anything, a huff of a chuckle, but you glowed with the indirect affirmation. Just made Optimus Prime laugh. Maybe you weren’t such a terrible diplomat.

He wasn’t looking at you, though, rather at Mirage, and you swore from your low vantage point you could see a barely-there smile on Prime’s faceplates communicating…was that smug amusement? As the tall bot carefully made his way past you, he stopped in front of your companion, and let a heavy servo land on the headlight adorning his shoulder.

“No matter what you may feel, you chose well, Mirage.” Optimus rumbled out, before removing his servo and traipsing off into a darker section of the sprawling warehouse, ducking through a much-too-small cutout and speaking to Arcee about something indistinguishable. However, you couldn’t care less about whatever her and Prime were discussing — what the hell did he mean by Mirage choosing well?

You turned your head towards said bot, mouth open for inquiry and one brow raised. Mirage looked mortified, in every sense of the word; he stood shell-shocked, lips slightly parted and servos up and open as if to defend himself. His head was whipped around to follow Prime’s departure from the room. A whir started, bouncing off the walls — Mirage’s fans came on and off intermittently to keep his ambient internal temperature at safe levels, but the steady hum of this fan let you infer that he was flushing something fierce.

“Mirage? What—“

Interrupting you by breaking, nearly jumping, out of his trance, he clapped his servos together and started talking at a million miles a minute. “Well, damn, look at that, haha, it’s late, ain’t it? You got work in the morning, right? C’mon, hop in, I’ll drive you home—“

“No, Mirage, hold on, what was he talking about—“

“Seriously, c’mon, he was just messing around—“

“You’re telling me Optimus Prime was joking? Is he even capable of that?”

He said your name with a finality that nearly made you flinch. “Look, I can’t really— Just drop it, please?” It wasn’t angry, nor was it even commanding; in fact, his eyes were wide and pleading with you out of embarrassment. You knew the feeling all too well, and in the interest of sparing his feelings, decided to let it go, despite your intense curiosity.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Okay. Dropped.” A few beats of silence passed while Mirage was still tamping down his fluster. “You wanna take me home now or are we waiting for Prime to come embarrass you more?”

“Please, let’s get outta here,” he affirmed, dropping into his alt-mode and popping the driver door for you. As you slid in, you couldn’t help the little mischievous smile that grew on your face as your brain cooked up some other joke to take the edge off.

The garage door opened on its own. Mirage rolled into the noticeably darker alleyway. The burnt umber glow of the sunset-stained sky was only visible overhead; otherwise you were boxed in on the sides by blacked-out buildings.

Stifling silence was broken by a joke. Your joke, actually. “…Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me.”

The noise Mirage made was only comparable to a squawk. But obviously much more masculine, clearly. Still, his tires jerked on the road, betraying his surprise. “Hey— Prime is not my sire— or dad, or whatever you wanna call ‘em. He wishes.”

“I dunno,” you mused, arms crossed over your chest and back sunk deep into the seat. Brooklyn in transition blurred by in messy constellations of lit windows. “He got you pretty good there. Pretty standard dad behavior.”

“Hey, I don’t know what suddenly inspired him to go for comedy, but I do not appreciate it. That’s my thing. He’s stealin’ my thunder!”

“Maybe you’re just rubbing off on him.”

Silence.

The radio crackled. “Ew.”

Accompanied by the loudest eyeroll you could muster, you whacked the dashboard with an open palm, though you couldn’t stop your bubbling laughter. “Oh my god, you are so gross, Mirage! I hate you!”

“Ahh, don’t say that, c’mon! You love it here!”

“You wish.”

The rest of the ride home was spent that way, bickering like normal, and although you couldn’t let go of what Prime had said, nor his knowing look while he said it, you appreciated the return to baseline. When you got home, Mirage parked directly in front of your apartment building, and you lingered on the sidewalk for several minutes after you got out of the car. With the passenger door opened so it looked like you were talking to the ‘driver’ and not completely insane, you leaned on the doorframe and traded jabs with your ride until the humidity of the night air got a little too persistent to ignore. Damn you, Brooklyn.

“See you tomorrow?” Mirage never said goodnight. He only ever asked when he could see you again, corny bastard.

“Tomorrow. My roommate’ll take me to work, don’t worry about it. I’ll just stick my head in the garage when I get home.”

“I thought we had a thing goin’, man!” His faux petulance returned. “You movin’ on already? You just met my folks!”

Your jaw dropped for a second at the fact he’d turned the damn bit around on you. “I met one folk, and you literally said he wasn’t your dad.”

“Maybe I was warmin’ up to the idea!”

Another lethal eyeroll. Your smile still remained locked on your face. “Whatever. Get the hell out of here, asshole,” you said, playfully shutting the door just a little harder than you needed to and slapping the roof like a horse you were trying to send off into the desert.

Even as you turned to walk into your building, you could hear the way his window shot down, far faster than a normal roll. “Ay! Merchandise!”

You stuck a middle finger over your shoulder, thumb out and all, to give him an idea of what he could do with his merchandise. Tires peeled against pavement as he screeched out of his spot and down the otherwise quiet street, letting you know in return how he felt about that.

Smiling like an idiot as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you felt… airy. You were always smiling after hanging around Mirage, you couldn’t help it — especially as of late. But still, you were dying to know what Prime was talking about when he was messing with Mirage earlier. You chose well. Chose what? Your brain briefly entertained the thought of Mirage returning what you felt, and it made blood rush to your face.

It couldn’t really… work. You had made peace with your physical differences weeks ago. The both of you got along just fine despite the size difference, and it never impeded your normal interactions. But you doubted Mirage felt the same; no matter how familiar, how friendly you were with him, you could never shake the feeling of being just a little too alien. Your greatest similarities were in personality. The closest resemblance you held physically was the fact you were both humanoid in shape.

That didn’t stop you. No, not at all. It didn’t stop you from dropping into bed after a quick shower with a heavy sigh, your hand inevitably sinking beneath the covers as you thought of digits — Mirage’s digits, so well articulated for their size and so careful — playing with the hem of your underwear instead of your own fingers, pushing the fabric aside just a little roughly to explore your alien anatomy. It took very little time for you to grind yourself to climax; in fact, it was embarrassingly quick, and it left your face hot with some special kind of shame as you slunk out of bed to wash your hands. The entire time, you avoided your reflection in the mirror.

Even with the ancient AC cranked on and chugging away, it took you a long while to fall asleep.

Off in the industrial district of Brooklyn, meanwhile, Mirage was burning rubber as he took ninety-degree turns at sixty miles per hour. His processor was thrumming at max capacity, and his engine felt like it was about to either stall or explode.

Primus, it was all too much. Your teasing always got him some kind of hot and bothered, tight under his interface paneling, but the acidic rush of embarrassment still prickled at his cabling. Prime, come on, man. Mirage was still floored at the fact that Prime of all bots had embarrassed him like that, in front of you, no less!

He had it bad for you, and he knew it, but apparently every other bot in that warehouse knew it too. Ever since he’d met you, you’d stuck in his processor, the way the light glinted off your eyes and your all-teeth smile and the way he could get you to laugh. Sure, his flirts were only playful at first — and he only did them to mess with Noah, who’d harbored an on-and-off crush on you for a while — but the more he did them and the more you returned them, the more he started really… considering it.

It was so shameful. Primus, it was shameful. He’d barely ever interfaced in his life — there was just no time, especially not on Cybertron — and never with organics. After that one night where he’d hefted you up with ease in both servos and completely blanked when confronted with your soft, warm weight in his hold, he’d been on a spiral. It wasn’t just enough to be friendly with you; he was plenty friendly with Noah (though with the amount of stupid passes Mirage made at him, Noah would probably say too friendly) and he wanted something more with you.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled into some long-abandoned warehouse or pitch-black deserted alley and scrabbled at his interface panel to pressurize his spike before he feverishly, frantically humped his fisted servo for relief, mental processors supplying increasingly filthy fantasies of your soft skin against his chassis and your mouth, Primus, your mouth on his own, on his spike, wherever, he didn’t care. Every single time, though, after coming down from his high with steam pouring off his lax frame, he felt just a little more discouraged than the last — because he knew that his fantasies would have to stay that way. Fantasies. Your friendship was enough, had to be, no matter how bad he wanted you, because he’d be damned to the Pit before he scared you off by being stupid and admitting his feelings.

Ugh. Ugh. He took another corner too hard and felt his tires shriek, let the burn travel upward and reverberate in his frame. The chaos in his mental processors quieted as he neared HQ. All he knew was that it was late, and he couldn’t be too loud or Prime would get on his ass for interrupting his stasis.

Can’t believe your dad made fun of you in front of me. Your voice played, unbidden, from some file that popped open in his memory bank. He willed it away with a vengeance as he rolled into the warehouse-turned-headquarters as quietly as he could, transforming as soon as the door was shut and stretching out his back. Clicking echoed off the walls as his spinal struts reset, and the residual burn in his scraped tires tingled.

Mirage turned, and—

Yelped. Bumblebee was standing right there, shoulder against the wall and fiddling with some holographic projection from his forearm. Mirage coughed into his clenched servo to preserve what was left of his dignity.

“‘Sup,” he greeted through gritted denta. “I, uh, didn’t see you there, man. How’s it hangin’?”

Bee gave him a flatly unamused look that communicated ‘No shit, you didn’t see me.’ very well. The projection phased out of existence and left the two of them in the dimmed space in some kind of standoff.

“Well, y’know, beauty stasis and everything, I’m just gonna—“

“I wanna know, what you’re feeling! Tell me what’s your mind!” burbled Bee’s radio in place of his voice. Mirage jerked back for a second, not expecting Information Society at whatever unholy hour of the morning it was.

“Look, man, I don’t really wanna talk about—“

“There are some things you can’t hide!” insisted the same song. Bee gestured for Mirage to talk. Clearly he wanted to know.

This was as good a time as ever to spill, he guessed.

Mirage groaned and clasped both of his servos over his face after explaining the bones of it, his head tilted upwards, optics fruitlessly searching the water-stained warehouse ceiling for a solution to his problem. His… very human, very embarrassing problem.

Not that he thought you were embarrassing— not at all, never. But Prime would have his head over falling for a human. Okay, well, maybe not his head; it was more like Mirage would be in for a lengthy disapproving speech about responsibilities and goals and distractions, and Primus, just thinking about it made the former option of decapitation the preferable one. Even though he seemed to approve of his choice, considering what he’d said earlier, the ‘Bots were still at war, and there wasn’t time for human distractions. Literal human distractions.

It wasn’t like he could help it. You were funny, okay? And smart. And you teased him in just the right way that made his cooling fans sputter, and you were so curious about… everything about him, he thought, remembering your impromptu Cybertronian anatomy lesson with a hot flash in his processor. He couldn’t help but be flattered by your attention.

“Ugh, Bee, I don’t know what to do, man,” he said despairingly after a moment, pacing in circles in front of said squat yellow bot leaned against the nearby concrete wall. “I mean, look at this, she’d be missin’ out if she said no,” he added, arrogance staining his words in an attempt to console himself. It didn’t work; insecurity eviscerated his bravado moments after he said it. “Or… I guess we’d both be, huh.” A short, self-deprecating laugh left him.

Mirage wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come to Bee of all bots for advice, but he was sure as shit not going to Optimus after today, and Arcee would have just told him anyway. Plus, considering that Wheeljack wasn’t even in the country at the moment, his options were slim. Besides, Bee had… experience with this sort of thing. Dealing with humans and all. Just… not in this way. But it was close enough, and Mirage was totally lost; if he thought about it by himself for any longer, his processors were going to fry.

Speaking of, Bee tittered through his gutted voice synthesizer to get Mirage’s attention. Expression drawn into a very human grimace, Mirage turned to face his friend, servos planted firmly on his hips.

“Well, you gotta tell her— wanna know what love is— want you to show me,” Bee’s radio clipped, first from a talk show, then from a nearby station, and Mirage felt energon surge to his face in a hot rush at a very personal song being blared back at him.

He had the words memorized at this point. The shape of them was practically burned into his memory files, considering how much he played it for you. It was reserved for days on both ends of the spectrum, bad and good; Mirage would pick you up in his alt-mode and take you for joyrides across the city, flying over the Brooklyn Bridge at daredevil speeds, all the while blaring music loud enough to make your head pound.

The two of you had discovered a few favorites, but the Foreigner song was at the top of the list, right next to Careless Whisper, of course. The sound of your voice belting at the top of your lungs, softened with that specific human accent, thrumming and reverberating through your chest— you sounded so alive, but so different from what he was accustomed to.

“Dude—” Mirage nearly barked, voice up a full octave before clearing his synthesizer into his fist and repeating himself. “Dude. I can’t just do that. Aliens— we’re aliens. Well. She’s an alien, too, I guess, but we,” he paused to gesture frantically between himself and Bee, “are the aliens here. I don’t really think humans are into the whole giant robot thing.”

“Noah?” Bee played a clip of Mirage’s own voice back at him questioningly.

“Yeah, well, Noah’s a different story.”

With a whir of his actuators, Bee shook his head and looked away for a moment, big blue optics considering the floor. With a soft clunk, he crossed his arms over his chassis.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Mirage urged, tilting his head to follow the other bot’s motions. “Should I just leave it? I mean, I don’t want it to be weird, I just—“

Bee straightened up off the wall, clearly done thinking. His arms opened out in a shrug and his optics squinted, communicating I don’t know what you want me to say, dude, far better than his vocal synthesizer ever could have.

His radio clipped again, this time a few seconds of a Beatles song and then Noah’s voice. “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah— right?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” Mirage groaned, rolling his head back with a pained expression and letting his body follow the motion as he paced another tight circle. His faceplates felt hot at the insinuation. “And if I ask, it’s gonna be weird. And if I make it weird, I’m never gonna—“

He stopped rambling when a four-digit servo thumped on the headlight atop his shoulder, rooting him to the spot. Bee’s optics stared him down, wide and bright blue, and it made Mirage press his lips together firmly as he awaited whatever sage advice he was about to impart.

ABBA filtered through the radio first. “Should walk right up to her and say—“ What came next made Mirage’s brow ridges shoot up so high he thought they were going to fly off his helmet. “—when I get that feeling, I want sexual healin’!”

Mirage’s jaw dropped. Immensely flustered and ten times more frustrated at his friend’s useless advice, he shoved the other bot off. “Are you serious, dude? Primus, I never shoulda asked you. Thanks, I’ll go walk right up to her and ask to interface on the warehouse floor, that’ll go super well.”

Bee nodded quickly and gave him a double thumbs up with a series of approving beeps and chirps, the bottoms of his optics flattening into an amused look. Mirage dragged his servo down his faceplates in mortification, although his cooling fans kicked on a click higher than normal.

Sometimes he wished he’d been left on Cybertron with Soundwave and all his other goons. This was one of those times. As he dropped back into his alt-mode with an embarrassed mumble about ‘going on patrol,’ Bee whooped behind him, and the last thing Mirage heard before peeling out of the warehouse was “There’s nothin’ wrong with me lovin’ you, baby, no, no!”

Whoever gave Bee access to Marvin Gaye needed to be whacked upside the helm.

Knowing Mirage’s luck, it was probably you.

He stayed out for the rest of the night in his alt-mode, wandering the streets and staying away from your apartment, no matter how bad he wanted to go. The pool of people with any useful advice to offer for his predicament was steadily shrinking; after the disaster with Bee, Mirage just needed to stay away from that warehouse and let his processors cool.

Sometime in the morning he returned, though not to the warehouse. He almost immediately crashed into stasis as soon as he rolled into Noah’s garage, his simultaneously pent-up and exhausted processors eager for a chance to refresh themselves and defrag.

Ha, he thought blearily as he sank into stasis. Defrag.

You were waking as he was crashing, though you weren’t happy about it. The eight hour shift that loomed ahead of you on top of the bullshit from last night was a pretty potent combination for a headache of a day, especially when you couldn’t have your morning jam sesh with Mirage on your way to work. Thankfully, though, your roommate was a kind soul, and there was an extra cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter when you stumbled out of your bedroom.

As you sipped it, you wondered just how long you could keep the front up. By some small grace of God, your roommate’s schedule didn’t align very well with yours; you barely saw them in your daily life even before you met Mirage. It wasn’t on purpose, of course. It just happened that way. But on a few occasions, they’d been home when Mirage had dropped you off, and you’d been just calling him a ‘friend with places to be’ to excuse the fact that he never walked you to your door. Being somewhat prescient, they’d nudged you a couple times about this ‘friend’ turning into a boyfriend, but had never pushed it.

You just hoped it stayed that way.

Breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, though you traded a few jokes back and forth that had the both of you giggling into your food. The ride to your job was similar, and your roommate wished you a good shift before driving off leisurely — such a stark difference compared to Mirage’s affinity for peeling off into the street at Mach-fucking-10. Thinking of him made your face burn and your mind race. You tried not to.

Time was an especially cruel mistress today, though. You swore that people were actively winding the clocks back every time you looked up at them, and your shift felt like a thick slog, knee-deep, that you had no choice but to wade through. The worst part about slow shifts was that your mind wandered with nothing else to do, and like a moth to a flame— or rather, like metal to a magnet, your brain circled around to Mirage again and again and again.

Damn that bot. Damn it all. Every time you thought of him, it was some stupid joke he’d cracked or silly offhand comment he’d made or ridiculous flirt he’d lobbed your way — always accompanied by memories of his body, surprisingly lithe considering what he was made of, all legs and a dramatic waist topped with wide shoulders that made your own engine purr.

“Mirage, did you go upstate or something? You’re disgusting,” you’d laughed as you raked your gaze over his pecs, pretending to eye the dirt smeared there and not something else.

“Disgusting?! You gotta be kidding me, I’m not half as bad as the rest of ‘em. You should see Bee, dude!” He’d gestured out the door of the warehouse, where you assumed the other bot was lurking in dirt-covered shame.

“What the hell were you two even doing?”

“Pfft. Practicin’.”

“Practicing body-slamming each other?”

“Yeah, want me to show you?”

“Mirage,” you’d groaned, laughing despite yourself.

“C’mon, I know a few good ways to pin a bot down,” he grinned, winking at you. You fixed him with the most dead stare you could muster before breaking into a half-smile of your own.

“I’ll pass on the whole getting crushed thing, but I could be persuaded to spray you down by hand,” you flirted back, just for fun.

No, not for fun. Real flirt. It was real, all of it was, and you couldn’t shake the memory of his optics widening, brightening, with eagerness and the way he’d pleaded. Playfully. Playfully?

“Please,” he begged dramatically, clasping his servos together, optics enormous. “I’ll be good! Maybe even stay still!”

You pinched your nose bridge between your fingers and tried to think about something else, because you were starting to press your thighs together a little and you were still at work, damn it. Professionalism was something you were aiming to maintain.

Hot. It was hot. That’s what you were thinking about. You’d glanced at the weather report earlier in the morning, and seeing a row of little sun icons clued you in on an insufferable heatwave that didn’t have any intention of breaking any time soon. Even now you felt sweat collect under your shirt and dot your hairline; all you could do was wipe your face with the back of your hand and keep working.

And working.

And. Working.

And then, eventually, you watched the clock tick over the last minute of your shift, and you heard angels sing a holy choir as you all but slammed your things down and sprinted to clock out. Well. You didn’t sprint, but you did speed walk, which counted for something.

Such was your haste to leave your workplace and talk to Mirage that you speed-walked headfirst into the lashing rain outside without a second thought. Genuinely caught by surprise, you stumbled back into the safety of the entryway, eyes wide as you watched the storm front swallow the last dregs of the golden evening sky and pour rain on the streets outside. Ink blots bleeding across paper. Rorschach tests. Some other poetic fluff came to mind over the supremely annoying realization that you were going to have to walk to the garage in wet clothes.

At least it was a quick walk.

Patience waning, you nearly considered calling Mirage — or even Noah — to come get you, but at the last second your roommate swooped in, pulling up outside and honking the horn a few times to let you know your knight in shining Prius was here to rescue you.

They cracked a few jokes at your expense when they saw your wet clothes, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Not after the trials and tribulations of Mirage. With a few clicks, the rest of your ride home was filled with Boyz II Men and intermittent conversation as you watched raindrops race each other down the window and considered what the hell you were going to say to Mirage tonight.

Mostly, you were dying of curiosity to know what Prime had meant to get him so flustered. Thinking about that, though, just made you go down a spiral of what-ifs… especially considering that one of them was ‘What if he feels the same way?’

You could handle rejection. You were an adult who paid taxes. But just this one time, you weren’t sure if you could handle reciprocation. Especially full reciprocation.

Mirage’s friendship was something you felt privileged to have. You were just quite scared to fuck it all up and lose out on all the things that made being his friend worth it — including him. Jaw tightening, you blinked and looked away from the window. No use stewing in it.

At home, your dinner was quick and light — something in a Tupperware that you didn’t look at too hard after microwaving. When your roommate asked about your rush, you came up with some lame excuse about hanging out with Noah, waving your hand dismissively.

Don’t worry about me. I’m going to go break Hynek’s scale of close encounters. Don’t worry about it though.

“In this weather? You’ll be soaked thirty seconds out the door. You were soaked thirty seconds out the door.”

“I’ll bring an umbrella,” you said, barely listening to them over the cacophony of your own thoughts. Mirage. Mirage. Mirage. I’m seeing him tonight. I’m talking to him tonight. I’m not going to pussy out of anything tonight. Now or never. “The place is like two blocks up the street, I’ll live.”

“If you’re so inclined to catch a cold, I’m not gonna stop you. Not making you chicken soup, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarked affectionately, and the last thing you heard before exiting your apartment was their familiar laughter. That bolstered you somewhat.

Even if the rain whipping at your face made you reconsider your stupid horny stubbornness.

Only two blocks felt more like two dozen as you tucked your chin to your chest and gripped your hood to keep the wind from snatching it off your head; in your other hand you white-knuckled your umbrella to keep it from tilting the wrong angle and washing water down your back. Thunder rattled your bones more than once and made you think offhandedly of Kris, the poor kid. He hated storms but refused to admit it out of pride; he was probably curled up in a ball under his covers right now trying to block out the worst of the noise. And you thought of Noah alongside him just out of pure association, and you weren’t sure what made your stomach turn, but it did.

God, you hoped Noah wasn’t with Mirage right now. You didn’t want to slam the door open to the garage soaking wet and wrestle Mirage’s true feelings out of him while Noah spectated. Wrestle. Soaking wet.

Fuck my life.

The side door to the garage was jammed like it always was, even after you unlocked it, and you huddled against it to stay under the mediocre cover of the awning as you shoved your shoulder into it to force it open. Old metal hinges wailed as you ground them open, and the blessed dry warmth of the garage — the temperature always heightened with Mirage’s presence — sighed against your freezing skin as you wormed your way inside.

“Mirage?” you called tentatively as you leaned back against the door to get it to shut and latch. A beat passed before your senses came to you and your hand fumbled behind you to lock it. Not for sordid reasons, honestly. You just didn’t want anyone to even have the chance of walking in on Mirage when he wasn’t folded into a Porsche.

Speaking of, you saw him then, pacing around the garage and seemingly very involved in a conversation with himself. Although the rain outside provided a dull roar of background noise, the whirs and clicks of his actuators and soft whooms of his pedes against the concrete filled your ears with their familiarity. It was Mirage, and you knew Mirage, and it helped dull the edge of abject nervousness in your gut.

He cut a sharp figure under the hanging ceiling lights, making sure to duck and avoid smacking his helm on them. When those bright blue optics registered your existence, you swore they flared with delight; he said your name with such enthusiasm it almost made you excited. For what, exactly, you didn’t know. “Hey, sugar, what’s k— Primus, you, uh, swim on your way here? Or do I just make you that wet? Cuz I appreciate the compliment.” He grinned wolfishly at you. Sparks flew off your rubbed-raw nerves.

The unimpressed stare you gave him was lethal. “That is not how that works,” you said, shaking your umbrella off on the floor and setting it against the wall to drip dry. “All the wetness is— would be in one place, dumbass.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention during my anatomy lessons. Wanna reteach ‘em to me? I’ll behave, swear on my spark.”

A scoff. “When have you ever behaved in your life?”

“When it counts! C’mon, you know you like it,” he said, gesturing down the length of his body with a flourish of his servo. “I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

“If I answer that question, I’ll hurt your feelings.” Excess rainwater dripped off your jacket as you peeled it off. Mirage’s optics followed the motion intently.

Amber lighting nearly glowed against the sleek metal of his torso. So what if your own eyes had wandered down it at his emphasis? He’d invited it. Expressly. He loved your attention, loved flaunting everything about himself just for a glance his way from you, for anything you’d give him.

It took him a second to register your words. He gasped and clasped a servo over his chassis— his spark, you remembered that from your own anatomy lesson a few weeks ago. “Gonna break my spark talkin’ like that. I hurt your feelings or something, sugar? What’s got you so bent?” With his question, he sank into a deep squat, draping his forearm over his thigh and leaning close to you.

A deep exhale left you. Your shoulders deflated. “It’s not you. Just the weather.” A short huff of a laugh, barely humorous, left you. “I mean, look at me.” You held your arms out and spun in a slow circle, errant droplets flying in every direction. “I look like a drowned rat.”

The lightbulb over his head was nearly visible. “You, uh, want a hand drying off?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hands fell to your sides. Something akin to lightning danced up your spine.

“What?”

“Hold on, hold on, I got an idea,” he said, holding his hand out at you to tell you to wait, excitement ramping up in his voice. What the hell was he planning? Nothing good, you figured. Or hoped.

Otherwise harsh sounds of metal against metal were softened by the alien chirrs and trills of the mechanical viscera working in his chassis as he settled on the ground in a sitting position. His back was leaned against the wall, carefully adjusted so his darling paint job was away from the rough concrete. To keep his balance, he rested against his tires and scooched his hips away from the wall, kicking his long legs out with a flourish and gesturing at his lap.

Although he was shorter this way, it was still a climb you didn't want to make while you were damp and the general slip hazard was high. “Can you give me a lift so I can see whatever shit you’re planning?”

“I got you, sugar, don’t even worry about it. Just hang on,” came the reply, and your brain blanked just a little at the feeling of his servos on you again, picking you up just like they had done on that night two weeks ago. With zero effort — seriously, you didn’t even hear any mechanical creaking — you were scooped upwards.

Your damp clothes clung to your body, a fact both you and Mirage were painfully aware of; the chill of the soaked fabric contrasted against that fascinating living heat of your skin nearly made the sensors in his servos short-circuit. He’d thought about this, exactly this, so much that it had probably worn a path into his neural processors. So soft. You were so soft.

A shudder ran up his spinal strut and he prayed you didn’t notice.

You were set down with your feet firmly on the flat tops of his thighs, ignoring the slight wobble in your knees. Arms raised a bit for balance, you looked down at the living machinery beneath you. The flight paths of the butterflies in your stomach grew more frantic. Broad servos released you from their hold, but they didn’t leave; no, they skated down, down, down until they settled on the flare of your hips and stayed. They were so heavy.

A breath caught in your throat like a wild animal in a trap. “If I fall, I’m gonna be so pissed off. You know that, right?” Anything to make this more normal. You had no idea how you kept the shake out of your voice.

“Relaaax, hot stuff, I’m on it. I got it, I got it,” he replied, his voice a full octave lower than what you were used to. “‘sides, I’m Mirage, remember? Protecting humans is kinda my thing.”

You scoffed. “Not with the way you drive.”

“Hey, I drive perfectly fine! You’re the one who’s scared of fun.” His servos left your hips to brace themselves on the floor. “Mirage, don’t drive so fast! Mirage, that’s a red light! Mirage, there are cops behind us!” His voice pitched up into something high and nasally to poorly, poorly mimic yours.

It was your turn to be affronted, though your mouth was open in a disbelieving sort of smile. “I don’t even sound like that, you fucker! And sorry for trying to keep us from getting arrested!”

“I dunno, you all sorta sound the same to our audio processors.” He was lying, and blatantly so. He had the distinct tone and pitch of your voice memorized down to the wavelength. “And besides, we wouldn’t get arrested.” His own voice took on a smug, self-satisfied edge, accompanied by the raise of his brow ridges.

“Oh, really? Why’s that? Please, enlighten me,” you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down. In response, he leaned his head in, closer to you, closer than you expected, and an insufferable smirk crawled across his faceplates.

“Cuz cop cars can’t drive that fast,” he whispered conspiratorially, like it was a clever response.

What should have been a minute movement — just a shift of the head — actually became very noticeable on a twelve-foot-frame; his hips repositioned of their own accord to account for the redistribution of weight, and the change was enough to trip you up. Especially when you had been leaning in already to match his movement.

The world tilted as you started to fall forward; fearing injury or worse by tumbling off your semi-precarious perch, you jammed your hands out in front of you—

And slammed your palms directly on his chassis. It was all very fast after that. Mortified, you stared down at the planes of metal beneath you, feeling heat creep up, up, up your neck and seep into your face. Mirage had cursed above you out of surprise, and you felt the displacement of air as his servo shot up behind your back and hovered. Right there. He was right there, and he always would be.

You raised your head and made eye contact, and you knew it was over. His optics were wide with surprise, and they searched your face for any expression of pain or discontent. They cycled once, seeing none, and then flickered down to your lips.

He was so done for. Something in his expression sagged at your proximity; in his field of view, he saw an alert stating that his internal temperature was rising beyond ideal levels, and he would have laughed if not for you. Finally. Finally. Finally. He was half-expecting this to be a dream, something cooked up by his fried processors that he would wake up from any minute now.

His servo was still hovering over your back.

“Can I—“

“Yes,” you said immediately in a sharp exhale — before he could even get the question out — and there it all went.

He surged forward like a flood from a dam, closing the distance between the both of you with a hungry rev of his engine. Explaining the logistics of it would sound silly; all you could do was go with the flow, just like every other time you’d ever kissed someone. All you knew was that it was satisfying, supremely so, and completely encompassing. Every sense was filled by him, and you realized with a kick of your heart that you never wanted it any other way.

Though your hand shook, you shoved past the fear and indulged in everything you had wanted for weeks, let yourself sink deep into that pit of want and refused to come up for air. Your fingers skated his curves and edges; you brought your palm up to the sharp angles of his jaw and smoothed it upward until it ran over the curve of his cheek.

He reacted to your touch like it was a live wire. Minute jerks of excitement ran through his frame, and when your hand rested on the side of his face, he tilted his helm into the kiss with barely restrained excitement. He was so careful, it made something inside you purr. That kind of caution was only reserved for something precious. You were precious. He couldn’t ever risk hurting you. Especially not by his own hand.

First impression was that his lips were far softer than you’d ever assumed. Pliable, hot metal pressed greedily against your mouth — more, more, more was a mantra echoed wordlessly between the both of you. The hovering servo came to rest on your back, pushing your front against his chassis as you shifted up on your toes to keep the angle of the kiss correct. Digits splayed against the planes of skin they found there, pressing down to feel your warmth — your heart slammed against your ribs so hard that Mirage could probably feel it against his palm.

With a hot flash, you wondered if the metal of his lips would bear the dent of your teeth from a bite. So you bit. It was more of a playful nip than anything, but the reaction you got was so instantaneous it was like Mirage had been waiting for it. Again, his engine throttled, the powerful rumble surging through you as his servo pinned you to his chassis. Against your mouth, his lips ticked up into a smile.

Air. You needed air. He let you pull away with no resistance, though his head did trail after your mouth for a moment.

You let your forehead sink down and rest against the top of his chassis for a moment; the condensation from your breath fogged the metal. Out of nowhere, manic giggles erupted from you. They shook your body incessantly as you rose and fell in time with Mirage’s heavy vents, your knees feeling weak and mind frazzled. From one kiss. One.

Laughter rocked his frame too, short chuckles of disbelief as his thumb rubbed circles into your back.

“Oh my god,” you murmured into the warm metal beneath you through shocks of giggles.

“Not exactly, but, eh, I’ll take it,” Mirage replied above you, and while he laughed at his own joke, you groaned and whacked him lightly with a palm. It wasn’t like he was unaffected though — far from it, in fact, judging from the steadily heating chassis beneath you and the tinge of static fringing his words.

“Bring me up,” you said hoarsely, twisting an arm behind you to paw at the servo on your back.

Without question, his other servo came up and curled under your thighs, hoisting you up so that his face was easier to reach. With most of your body now resting on his chassis and very much secured in his grip, you grasped his face in both your palms; he leaned so far into your touch with a shaky ex-vent that your noses almost brushed.

“Again?”

“Yeah, again,” he agreed, and this time you pulled him in, fingers hooking in some unseen seam behind his jaw as you crushed your mouth against his. Hunger, latent and now finally triggered, drove you closer, as close as you physically could, until your skin was starting to hurt from the random edges being pressed into it.

Curious above all else, you licked your tongue into the front of his mouth. The searing heat inside surprised you; it teetered on the edge of uncomfortable and reminded you very much of your computer at home when it ran for too long, with that special kind of mechanical stress and burning warmth that only came with overworked processors.

“‘S like that, is it?” he murmured into your mouth with a grin, his engine kicking up a notch and the vibration of his chassis hitting you very nicely right where you needed it most. You made some soft noise, half-gasp, half-groan, and hiked one of your legs up so it was bent at the knee, flattening your hips against his chest and fuck, there it was. The consistent rumble of his motor pressed a steady vibration right into your cunt over the seam of your jeans; a particular grind made you gasp and falter as you rolled your clit against the line of denim and held it there.

“Whoa-ho-ho! Heyyy, hot stuff, something feel good down there?” His voice was bursting at the seams with some rich kind of excitement; you breathed into his neck cabling as your hips jerked a little against his chassis. One servo pawed at your ass, clumsy with its eagerness, gripping and massaging the soft flesh it found there with intent.

Experimentally, his servo pressed down, pushing your pelvis down with it, and the pressure on your clit pulled a groan of satisfaction out of you that had his cooling fans sputter.

“Fuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, and before he could say something stupid, you leaned your head down and pressed kisses to the delicate cabling of his neck.

A delighted noise rattled out of him, and his helm rolled back against the wall to allow you more access. Impatient, your kisses soon turned to bites, playful nips that tugged at the sensitive wiring and made his body jolt beneath yours like he’d been shocked. To your utter delight, you found that Mirage’s proclivity for talking extended to situations like these, too — noises streamed from his mouth as your curious teeth and hands worked over such a fragile part of his anatomy in ways that only a human could.

“Oh, Primus, babe, babe—“ he stammered out, and you lifted your head for just long enough of a window to allow him to swoop down and kiss you again, feverishly now.

Something thick and wet prodded past your teeth experimentally. For just a second you balked— and then remembered it was his glossa. His tongue. Yeah, you remembered that from your anatomy lesson; he’d stuck it out and pointed at it in a dumb way then, but fuck if it didn’t have your thighs tightening now. The hot biomesh probed your mouth, and it was so big you inadvertently drooled around it — but Mirage didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you were pretty sure the spit dripping from your mouth around him was getting him even more worked up, judged by the way his digits tightened their grip on your ass.

You had been cold when you’d walked in that garage. Keyword there was had. Now your skin seared with a deep flush and steadily increasing heat; mindlessly, your hips started a slow, staccato rhythm that kept your breathing heavy. The servo on your back slid upwards to the point where it encompassed the back of both your neck and head. He could not get enough of your taste. He wanted it burned into the sensors on his glossa, for all he cared. Spit and lubricant swapped between the both of your mouths — you found that the metallic taste that seeped into your tongue did nothing but turn you on further.

Pulling away again for a deep inhale of air, you propped yourself semi-awkwardly on an elbow to look at him. Open adoration was written across his faceplates, along with blatant want that made his optics cycle frantically.

“I thought you were— fuck, I thought you were supposed to be drying me off,” you said, breaking in the middle of your sentence as his servo carefully started to move you. Just barely — just enough pressure to keep your hips working against him and chasing your pleasure.

“You really wanna?” He grinned at you, spit shiny on his chin. “I dunno about you, but I think I’m likin’ you being wet more.”

“You’re awful. That was terrible,” you laughed, brain foggy with arousal and general swelling affection for the bot underneath you.

“How many more of those you got left in you before you start admitting the truth that I’m the funniest bot you’ll ever meet?”

“I mean, you don’t exactly have stiff competition.”

“Aaand the best-looking.”

“I dunno… Optimus is kind of—“

“Hey!” he interrupted, bringing you up for another kiss to silence your thought before you could finish it. You happily complied, laughing into the heat of his mouth and then moaning in the same breath as his servo ground you down against his rumbling chassis again.

Hot. You were getting really hot. The damp clothes sticking to your skin were not helping; in fact, they felt as though they were going to start steaming being pressed against your skin like this. Against your wishes, you pulled backwards again, bracing yourself against the warm vents that substituted for his collarbones. They cycled hot, dry air against your fingertips, though it didn’t burn. Not yet, at least.

“Mirage,” you breathed, and that got his attention immediately. “…Are we fucking?”

“Please,” he instantly replied, so eager that it made your cunt throb. His enormous blue optics watched you with such intent that it almost made you want to shrink away from the scrutiny — but you steeled your resolve. You had him, and you had him right where you wanted. Opportunity of a fucking lifetime. You were not about to waste it.

You glanced down for a reprieve from the eye contact. “Fuck,” you swore softly, staring at the metalwork beneath you for a few heartbeats before shaking your head and glancing back upwards at him. “Okay, well— I— Okay. Let me just— do this—“

Hands shaking slightly, you balled your fists in the hem of your work shirt and wrestled it up and off you; the damp fabric lingered and peeled off of you, which made Mirage’s motor throttle powerfully underneath you. Other than that, though, you got no reaction, which made all that heat in your abdomen cool rapidly into a dense ball of abject horror.

Oh, you made a mistake. This was too much, you were too alien, too different—

The servo not supporting you against his chassis slid around from the planes of your back to your front, and you gasped sharply as he did the same fucking thing that drove you insane the first time, however many days ago. His thumb, warm on the palm-side, gently passed over the peak of your chest. His optics narrowed in on the indent in your soft flesh his digit created. Nerve endings in the trail it left behind sparked.

“Oh, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he said reverently, voice steeped in a combination of awe and victory.

Oh-kay! You sucked a deep breath in, a litany of responses running through your head. The boost to your ego was very much appreciated, and it helped lighten the sinking mass of worry that had formed in the pit of your stomach.

Mirage nearly groaned when you placed your soft palm atop the junction of his digit and the heel of his servo. “Do it again,” you decided on, and that worked damn well.

As his servo groped at your chest, he leaned in, tucking his face under your jaw. To accommodate, you tilted your head up and away—

Only to swear into negative space as he very much returned the favor from earlier and began carefully sucking the world’s biggest hickeys into the skin of your neck. Breaths came harsh and choppy as the expanse of his glossa, hot and spit-slick, laved over the gentle bites he worried into your skin with his denta.

“Ah, Mirage, Mirage,” you breathed; every mention of his name spilling from your bruised lips made his circuitry heat just a little more. It was so much all at once — his servos were so broad that their expanse covered huge swaths of skin at once, and his mouth on such a sensitive part of your anatomy wasn’t helping either. Your hands clawed for purchase against his helm and the back of his neck. One palm flattened as much as it could on the back of his head, trying with all of your laughable human strength to bring him as close as possible. The other ended up cradling the side of his head, your thumb brushing over the audial disk there. With no small amount of wonder, you watched the plates of his back ruffle at your touch.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be weird, but he could die happy so long as he had the taste of your skin still registering on his glossa. It was more addictive than any high-grade he’d had back home by leagues. That human flavor of salt and skin and some kind of sweetness had his processors thrumming at maximum capacity; you made his mouth flood with lubricant, a fact you could corroborate by the amount that spilled over your bare sternum. The feeling of his own spit sliding down your front between your bruised breasts made the muscles of your abdomen twitch. Fingers shaped like claws now, you pressed weak kisses against the smooth curves of his helm wherever you could reach.

Your jeans were just getting in the way at this point. The minute shocks of pleasure you derived from grinding your clit against the inseam were just that — minute. You needed something more now or you were going to get frustrated, and you’d dealt with enough sexual frustration over the past weeks to be very sick of that feeling.

“Oh, fuck, okay— Mirage,” you said breathlessly, giving him a light tap on the side of his helm to get his attention. Reluctantly, he pulled away from your chest, optics dimmed with pleasure. They cycled once and returned to their full brightness as he cleared the fog of arousal — barely — away from his processors.

“All systems go, sugar?” Static hissed underneath his words.

You tried and failed to stifle a snort of a laugh. “Corny ass,” you mumbled, although you were absolutely close enough for his audial sensors to pick up on it. He made a sound of indignation, but you pushed forward regardless. “I, um, I need to get these off.” Hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your jeans to emphasize your point, you glanced up at his optics again.

Blankness for a second. Then it registered. “Oh, right, right, of course, haha! You, uh, want help? Or you got it?”

“I think I can manage taking my pants off,” you laughed. “Just— let me sit on like— the top of your chest, there we go,” you instructed, and the hand under your ass pushed you up until you were turned around and seated on the lip of the top of his chassis. For a second, you wrestled with the denim — still not fully dried — but you managed to kick both your jeans and your shoes off. They were thrown somewhere in the direction of the door. God, you were so glad you locked it.

Underwear went next. There was a beat of hesitation — for what, you weren’t sure — but like you’d done so often as of late, you just ignored your trepidation and worked the elastic down your legs. A laugh barked out of you when you lifted the fabric up and saw the downright ridiculous wet spot that stained the gusset.

“Jesus Christ, look what you did to me,” you said with a faux accusatory tone, holding your panties out for Mirage to inspect. Two digits delicately took them from you; he held them up to his face, so close that it made you blush from sheer embarrassment.

“Wow. You weren’t kiddin�� ‘bout all the wet being in one spot, huh?” He examined them with no small amount of fascination, much to your mortification.

“Mirage! Put those down, oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth with a choked noise.

“What, I can’t admire my work?”

“No you can not.”

Mirage pouted at your denial, and mumbled something about you being no fun, but he still lifted you off his chassis regardless. Like he was helpless to your draw, he pulled you in for another kiss, though he couldn’t stop his mouth from wandering. Down, down, down, until his nose was nestled in your chest and he spoke into the soft flesh of your stomach. Shaky ex-vents tickled the damp skin there.

“Shit, baby, tastes so good,” he mumbled, and you were impressed by his ability to sound completely sex-drunk without even having done anything yet.

Your hips rolled against nothing; they bumped into his neck cabling and the top of his chassis fruitlessly, and a noise of frustration eked out of you. Mirage seemed to get the memo and pulled you away. Your body was brought down until your ass was sat firmly on his hips — his interface panel nestled right in front of your dripping cunt — and your back was leaned up against the flat support of his thighs; his knees were tucked up and his pedes placed firm and flat on the floor to give you the most stability. Fumbling for a second before you found somewhere to place your own feet, the enormity and absurdity of the situation brought more of those breathless giggles to your mouth that seized your chest and shook your shoulders.

Toootally breaking Hynek’s scale here. So beyond abduction. Way beyond abduction.

A few careful digits slipped around your knee, wormed their way between your legs. “Can I—“

Your thighs fell open without a word.

What had made you fall for Mirage the hardest was his motormouth. He never stopped talking; he always had something stupid to add, something to pitch in with, some silly joke to crack. There was a lightness he teased out of you that even you didn’t expect. But now? Now, for once, he was speechless. It made uncharacteristic shyness flare in your gut and heat your face as he studied your very bare, very human form with slightly parted lips and enormous optics.

His body caught up before his mouth did. The servo on your knee slid over it until it gripped your bare thigh; he watched the flesh shift back and forth under his touch with no small amount of fascination.

“Is it— it’s okay?” Your voice sounded very small. It was a special kind of insecurity to be faced with.

“Oh, yeah, it’s okay. It’s cool, you’re just— just different. A lot different.” He jiggled your thigh again playfully.

“Good kind of different though, right?”

“Very good.” To punctuate it, his engine snarled again, seemingly in response to the drool of your cunt on the hot metal of his interface panel. “Primus, you look good, babe. Shit.”

Ego boost! You smiled. Any other partner — any person — and this would be too much, this position too unflattering, your everything too open… With Mirage, though, it just felt like it always did. Easy.

One of your hands rested atop the servo still holding onto the meat of your thigh. The other slid down over your shining chest, passed over your stomach and pubic mound, and brushed past wiry hair, shiny with slick, in order to slide a finger up your folds. A whine ripped its way out of you at direct contact with your clit after mere heavy petting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from drawing tight circles with your fingers and twitching your hips forward to eke out more of that delicious pressure.

The servo on your thigh dug into your skin. Mirage’s vents became far heavier at the open display of your arousal; it has always been him vying for your attention. Now that it was the other way around, he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Transfluid was seeping between the seams of his interface panel, joining your own fluids in a shiny pool that sent sparks up his struts. He made you like this, made you so wet you dripped, made your clit swollen enough to be visible, made your cunt tight with heat and Primus, he needed you on his spike so bad, he thought he might die without it.

He verbalized these thoughts with an unintelligible noise of adoration.

It was enough encouragement for you to slide down from your clit and venture two fingers into yourself. Zero friction. They glided. Christ, when was the last time you were this wet? You’d slept with a handful of people, especially in your first couple years of college, but you’d never been soaked like this. Mirage’s cooling fans choked at the sight of your fingers vanishing into you. His thumb dug into the crease of your thigh and hip as he leaned just a little closer to watch.

Very little time passed before it devolved into your fingers working inside your walls, crooking against that one spot that made your breath hitch and hips jump. Mindlessly, you ground against your palm, catching your clit on the heel of your hand with a sweet moan that nearly shorted out his processors. He had to hear that again. Without thinking, he moved his servo over, resting the digits on your lower stomach and gently, gently nudging the heel of your hand out of the way to replace it with his thumb.

“Ah!” spilled from your lips at the insistent, broad pressure of his thumb, and your hips jerked against it, working your fingers that much deeper. Tears pricked at your eyes from pure sensation. “Mirage, mmm, just— just rub, up and down— or circles, just move, I don’t ca—are,” you floundered, the last word breaking as he did as he was told, carefully sliding his thumb up and down on the bead of your clit and sending twinges of searing pleasure up your spine.

You found quickly that just your fingers weren’t enough. Not when the reminder of his servo lay heavily on your lower stomach, tips of his digits digging into the soft fat there insistently. Although you were loath to part with your hand, you pulled your fingers out with a sigh. Mirage froze, optics flicking to your shiny hand as you spread your fingers, examining the strings of fluid that connected them with a far-off feeling of pride.

“Sugar, you’re killin’ me here,” he groaned, and you saw, for one endearing second, a puff of actual steam rise from the vents near his shoulders as he ex-vented harshly.

“Okay, well, here,” you said, unable to come up with anything clever with the purr of arousal in your cunt fanned by the heat of his interface plate and consistent, maddening rumble of his engine. Your hand, still shiny and wet with your fluids, grasped the top of his servo and gently pushed it downwards, until the tips of his digits rested against your drooling entrance. To fight the whimper that threatened to claw its way out of your throat, you nearly chewed a gash into the inside of your cheek. A gasp of an in-vent jolted his frame in awe.

“You sure? I mean— it’s cool?” His flustered stammering was so damn endearing; supreme affection for him swelled in your chest.

“I’m sure. Just— just go slow.” His adoration was fueling your bravery. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you; if he did, it would never be intentional, and it would never be something he couldn’t fix.

He paused for a second before remembering the position of your own hand and flipping his servo so it was palm side up; you dragged a large enough breath in to balloon your lungs fully at the sight. Anticipation danced in the burn of your spread thighs. For a few seconds, it was just exploration; his digits slid over your silky folds, collecting the gathered slick with minute trembles. One delicious slide all the way up from entrance to clit had you gasping. Mirage silently thanked Primus above that your whole set-up was similar enough to his valve to know at least some of his way around it. It was just hotter. Wetter. Softer. So much softer.

“‘Raj, just— fuuuck,” you groaned out, your head rolling back as the tip of one digit sank into you, soon followed by the rest as it slid all the way to the base. Stars flickered behind your eyelids. The width matched the two fingers put together you’d just pulled out of yourself, though the texture was so wildly different to anything you’d ever put up there that it made your brain stutter for several moments as your nerve endings processed the feeling. The individual ridges and articulations of his knuckles dragged against the silk of your walls in a way that pulled the breath right out of you; your chest rose and fell rapidly with shallow breaths as your thighs twitched.

You were a mess. Mirage was in love. “Holy shit, baby, I get you this bad?” It was only partly teasing. “l— fuck, a second one good?”

“Good, yes, please.”

All thoughts were wiped clean from the forefront of your brain with the addition of a second digit. Slick noises and the sound of dripping fluids landing on metal and concrete filled your ears over the steadily climbing racket that Mirage’s entire body was making — his cooling fans competed with his engine to make the most noise, over top of the typical whirs and clicks that came with his motion. You couldn’t look, could only feel with your eyes squeezed shut as Mirage pumped both digits in and out, in and out, in and out. One arm was thrown up behind you, hooking loosely around his knee to ground you somewhere. The other was occupied: your hand clutched his wrist like a lifeline, white-knuckling it even as your sweaty palm slipped over the metal cuff. When his thumb returned to your clit, swirling clumsy but eager circles on top of it, that only contributed to the tight, hot coil building in your gut.

Mirage had half a mind to pop his interface panel right then and service himself, because the sight of you, shining with sweat and slick with his spit as you rode his digits, was almost too much to bear. The plush folds of your cunt, tight with arousal, were so soft against the hard planes of metal that comprised his servos; the contrast was short-circuiting him. Under his paneling, his spike was already pressurized. Had been for what felt like hours. Your ass was beginning to slide back and forth just a little due to the transfluid collecting underneath you; the rippling motion of your flesh was driving him insane. As were your walls, Primus, your walls that sucked greedily around his digits as they glided in and out of the tight ring of muscle that made up your entrance.

Your name left his lips in a groan that was an octave too high to be suave. The thought of your cunt clamping down on his spike — so soft, so hot, so wet — like it was doing on his digit had his hips rolling against nothing, working fruitlessly for friction they weren’t getting.

Sweat collected wherever skin touched skin. Condensation fogged wherever skin touched metal. The combination of his digits stretching you, curling in you when he realized what a dramatic reaction it incurred, and his thumb working your clit was getting to be too much. Heartbeat roaring in your ears like the rain outside, you clawed a grip into a seam in his leg and jerked your hips against his servo with breathy noises and gasps that you certainly wouldn’t be proud of later. For now, though, all it did was fuel Mirage’s ego and go straight to his spike.

Almost there. You were almost there, grinding your way towards it, sweat beading on your hot skin—

He pulled out. He pulled his digits out. A keen tore out of you at the loss of feeling, tears springing to your eyes as the hot edge you were so fucking close to fell away, your hips working unconsciously against a servo no longer there. With a gasp of a breath, you wrenched your eyes open, blinking away the collected tears and nearly baring your teeth at the bot beneath you — until you saw what he was doing.

In utter astonishment, you watched as the digits that were just inside you slid into his mouth, peeks of his glossa flashing as it worked them clean.

“Oh fuck,” you said before you could stop yourself. One of your hands slapped over your mouth; you tasted sweat and metal. His optics slid to you, lidded and cycling frantically as he processed your taste. A harsh ex-vent slumped his shoulders — the servo not preoccupied with his mouth clutched your hip like you were something precious.

“Sugar,” he breathed, static grating on the word. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Servos hefted you up, and you clutched onto them out of instinct as he helped you up to his face. Without thinking, you lunged forward to kiss, your tongue seeking out his glossa and tasting yourself with a resurging thrum of arousal. He cut it short, though, ignoring your protests as he cupped your ass in one servo and held you aloft.

For a second, you stared at him in confusion. “What are you—“ Then it hit you. “Oh.” Your heart rate skyrocketed.

The grin stretching his faceplates was downright devious. “Hang onto something, wouldja? Not that you’re gonna fall. Just want you to enjoy the ride.” A short, heady chuckle rounded out his words.

“You’re insane— oh!” Your lighthearted scold was immediately interrupted by the press of your hips against his face and the slide of his slick glossa over the entirety of your sex. “Oh my fuck!” sobbed out of you as your upper body jackknifed over his helm. One arm curled around it with clawing fingers; the other slammed, palm flat, against the concrete wall.

A groan of satisfaction rumbled into your cunt as the taste of salt and sweat and girl bloomed on his glossa — just like earlier but so much stronger now. The proud line of his nose bumped your clit for a second before his glossa followed, narrowing so he could flick at it experimentally. Lubricant spilling from his mouth mixed with your own slick and ran down his chin; his cooling fans sputtered and spun weakly for a second as he pushed up further against your hips, malleable mesh drawing shapes between your clit and your hole.

Your fingernails scraped against the wall as your hips jerked of their own accord; the edge stolen from you earlier had very much returned, and the feeling of his faceplates sliding over the plush, soft skin of your inner thighs was doing something terrible to you.

“Mirage, ah, ah— I’m— fuck, fuck!” Broken syllables and curses streamed from your lips as a substitute for real words. When he closed his lips around your clit and sucked, it was over. It was so quick, embarrassingly quick. The orgasm that had been building suddenly snapped free and tore through you like a fucking hurricane, leaving spasming muscles and a wonderful endorphin afterglow in its wake. As you sobbed out his name, he slid two digits of his free servo back into you just to give you something to clamp down on, and it made tears spill down your burning cheeks from pure stimulus. Mirage drank you; he wanted nothing more than this, to swallow you down and leave your taste buzzing on his glossa like high-grade. Several thundering heartbeats later found you hunched over his helm as his glossa continued to work lazily against you, forcing twitches out of your thighs from pure overstimulation.

“Okay, okay,” you managed to croak, voice hoarse from weeping moans and boneless from what was probably one of the most insane finishes of your life. You tapped out weakly on the side of his helmet. Reluctantly, he pulled your pussy away from his face and cradled you in both servos, one noticeably damper than the other, in front of him.

His chin was shiny with you, his grin wide and completely self satisfied, and his optics dimmed with pleasure. If you were being honest, he’d never looked better, but in your frazzled state you weren’t sure if you had the capacity to string together enough words to form a compliment.

“I gotta say, compliments to the chef,” he hummed, and you stared at him, words not processing.

“Did you seriously— you just gave me head and that’s what you’re gonna say?”

“Uhh, yeah, babe. And I meant it.”

A genuine laugh shook you. “Oh my god. Ohhh my god. Okay. Well, put me back down there, you corny fuck,” you said with a gesture back at his hips.

“Oooh, keep sayin’ that. I’ll start thinkin’ you mean it.” Your body, errant trembles still running through it, was set carefully down back near its original position. This time, you sat in something closer to a straddle, back straight instead of leaning.

The garage air had gone from temperate and warm to fucking scorching. Outside, the rain droned on, occasional rumbles of thunder sounding so far away that they may as well have not been real. Your entire world had been compressed down to one point — a gravitational singularity in this garage, crushing space and time down until only bricks and concrete stood between you and the oblivion outside. All you knew was living metal and Mirage’s voice, trembling with excitement and fuzzy with static, and that was all you wanted to know. His chassis was making so much noise that you probably, under any other circumstance, would have been concerned; if he blew a gasket fucking you, though, you would wear that with pride.

Pure adoration reflected right back at you from his optics as his servos settled on your hips, his thumbs stroking your slick skin. Any concerns he had about Prime’s reaction to you, or to this — well, maybe not to this specifically, but to the both of you being together — were completely null and void in your presence; the reality of your soft weight in his lap was enough to short out his circuits.

Your hands slid down from the cooling fan in his abdomen spinning at maximum speed towards his soaked interface panel; glancing up at him demurely through your lashes, you spoke.

“You gonna let me return the favor?”

“Huh?” He broke out of his reverie. “Oh, right, um— yeah. Yeah, please.”

A smile crawled over your face at the reminder that despite all the poetic words you could come up with in your head, Mirage was still, and always would be, Mirage. Dazed already, he ran the subroutines to open his interface panel. Machinery shifted with a few clicks, and there was a hiss and an outpour of steam as his spike swung up before you, clearly aching for some kind of touch.

You heard more plates shifting lower, too, and out of curiosity peeked downward; something slick glowed lower down, but the nervous shifting of Mirage’s hips and his closed thighs obscured it from view.

Probably better to just focus on what’s in front of you. Your eyes roamed the length of his array first, your mouth going dry just at the size of it. It was bigger than any toy you owned, anyone you’d slept with, and bigger than his digits, too. Still, though… what were humans if not persevering?

And flexible?

You wrapped a hand around it right below the tip, and a full shudder lanced up Mirage’s frame; it was so thick that there was still space between your fingers and thumb left over. Transfluid, milky in consistency but pearlescent pink in color, spilled from the flared head. Curiosity overtook you, and you swiped a thumb up to catch an errant bead of it as it trailed down the side. The fluid was semi-oily, and smelled… fairly innocuous. Metallic, sure, but that came with the territory.

The array itself was as impressive as it was pretty. Like everything else about Mirage, it was fancy, mostly chrome with blue striping up the sides that led to a fully blue head. The biomesh it was made of — similar to his glossa — gently throbbed with alien pulses as you stared at it. Oh, that was hot. Why was that so hot?

Exploration in full was rewarded with soft noises spilling unbidden from Mirage’s lips, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you carefully slid your hand down from the tip to the base in one fluid motion, feeling the transfluid slick under your fingers. “Mmph, I— ah,” he choked out through gritted denta as you observed him.

Oh. Oh. The realization of the power you held over the big mech made a special kind of arousal thrum through you. Another slow pump had his hips jerk up once and a servo clamp over his mouth.

“This was not included in your anatomy lesson,” you said pointedly, a cheshire grin on your face as you hovered dangerously close to his spike. It throbbed in your grip, working another bead of transfluid out of the tip.

“Oh shit, babe,” he groaned, rolling his helm back against the wall. “Uh— hands— hands-on learning?” he offered weakly, unable to focus on anything other than the soft, damp skin of your palm around his spike.

He made the mistake of looking down as you let spit drool out of your bruised lips and spill over his spike for additional lube, and he snapped his optics shut to avoid from a spontaneous overload right there. The noises he made as you slid your tongue over the head were pitiful.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, spinal struts clicking as they arched. Primus, was he seriously about to overload in your mouth? Your lips closed around the head and sucked lightly, and he yelped. A servo shot out and carefully grabbed your shoulder, though the tremors running through his digits told you of the restraint he was barely employing. A string of spit and transfluid connected your mouth to his spike as you lifted your head, and he had to force himself to look away for a second with that same servo clutched over his mouth to keep steady. “‘m not gonna last like that, you— can we just—“

“Fuck?”

“Primus, yes.”

“Yeah, we can. I guess.” Despite the leap of excitement in your stomach, you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even start with that, c’mon,” he said fondly, one servo supporting you as you lifted yourself above his spike and stared down at it with no small amount of trepidation.

It looked a little more manageable from above, but working with something the size of your forearm would cool anyone’s heels, even if there was slick drooling down your inner thighs. Mirage’s servos settled heavy on your hips and you braced yourself on first his knees behind you, then his wrists as you tilted your pelvis to align your entrance as best you could. You sank. The head pressed insistently against your hole. Relax. Relax. Relax.

A deep breath filled your lungs, then whooshed out, deflating your shoulders. Unable to help himself, Mirage inched one of his servos over and ran his thumb through your folds, rolling over your clit and jolting your hips enough to slip the head inside. A long sigh of “Fuuuuck.” was all that managed to come out of your mouth, your toes curling at the stretch and then the pop of the flared head sliding past your entrance.

Mirage’s entire frame trembled. His vents became shallow and sharp, and the tips of his digits clamped onto the soft meat of your hips desperately as the sensors on his spike reckoned with the realization of just how wet and warm humans really were. “Babe, babe, babe, shit,” he stammered out. “That’s— um, fuck, that’s good!” A weak laugh escaped him as his chin sank down to his chassis, cooling fans hiccuping from stress.

“Hold on, just hold on, I can… shit.” Sweat-dampened palms slid off his wrists for a second before you resituated yourself and leaned back a little, letting your upper back rest against his tucked up thighs. Whatever you were doing worked, because you sank further, and you thanked whatever god was listening that you’d already finished once, making your body quite boneless and that much easier to maneuver.

Mirage, on the other hand, was as taut as a fucking bowstring, made helpless to his own pleasure and completely powerless to you. His optics first scrunched shut, unable to look at you for fear of overloading at the sight of you finally on his spike; then they flew open at the realization that he wanted this burned into his visual processors forever.

Your skin shone with sweat and lubricant; rivulets trailed down your body like a visual pointer to your slick sex, nestled within wiry hair and stretching so beautifully around his spike that it tore an honest-to-Primus whimper out of his vocal synthesizer.

“Mirage, I need you to— mmnh, fuck, I need you to just touch— please,” you gasped, his spike punching the air right out of your lungs. Although your words were broken, he seemed to get the memo, and despite his minute tremors, brought his thumb back to your clit and pressed down. Just the surface area alone made you sigh and roll your head back in pleasure, and it loosened you enough to take him right up until the head nestled against your cervix and your ass brushed his hip plating. There was maybe an inch or two left, but you felt immense pride at managing to work most of his spike in — and immense pleasure, too. If he moved his thumb at all, you were done; you were so fucking full you could barely breathe, and you felt the slow, rhythmic pulses of his biomesh throb through you.

Mirage had never been one for restraint. He did things all-in, one-hundred-and-ten percent, all with a flourish to top it off; the feeling of the hot silk of your walls flexing around his spike just sitting there was enough to quite literally kill his cooling fans via a micro-short in an attempt to divert more power towards keeping his hips still. Senseless praises streamed from his lips, voice whining and roughened by static fuzz. “Yes, yes, yes, sugar, Primus, that’s good— feels so good, please, can I move, please,” he fumbled, jaw slack and optics flickering with the power surges cascading throughout his frame.

“Just— let me start,” was your response, tears pricking at your eyes, and although Mirage groaned pitifully underneath you, he listened.

You had a fair amount of experience with riding toys, and you knew what felt good; the lightbulb above your head became apparent. A shift in your position pushed further weight to the back so that the ridges and nodes of his spike pressed insistently toward the front — though, to be fair, it pressed everywhere — and oh, fuck, right there. Now shoved against that sweet spot inside you, the pleasure teetered on the edge of pain, and you dragged yourself up with a vicious grip on the seams of his thighs behind you. Mirage whined and shifted his hips just slightly; it was enough to pull a moan from your lips as you slid upward. Thick, sluggish droplets of slick swirled with transfluid oozed down his spike. He watched — it was all he could do — with an open mouth and rapidly cycling optics.

The flared head caught against your entrance; a spike (ha!) of pleasure lanced through you. “Okay, now, you can— help me, please,” you stammered out, dizzy with pleasure already and feeling a loopy kind of open-mouthed grin situate itself on your face.

Your words were all he needed. Although he desperately, desperately wanted to snap his hips up and chase the vice-grip of your slick walls, he’d rather take on Megatron alone with his servos tied behind his back than risk hurting you. Especially while interfacing. He did not want to have to explain that to anyone.

Thumb slowly working your clit, his servos gripped your hips just a little too tight and assisted; you could feel the tremors lancing up and down his arms as he helped you establish a rhythm. At a word, the dam would break, but for now, you maintained tenuous control over the mech and over yourself as you rode him with his help.

Well. Rode was a strong word for it; he all but dragged you up and down the length of his spike, earning each of you luxurious groans from the other, but your quivering thigh muscles assisted as best they could. Heat surged through your body at the drag of his nodes against your walls, and you realized with a hot flash that Mirage was going to fucking ruin you for anybody else, and you liked that. Which was good, because he could have stayed buried in your cunt for the rest of his life and offlined happily just like that.

It was good. It was really good. But even the overwhelming stretch wasn’t enough. Just like earlier — it seemed like light years away now — when you’d still had pants on and hadn’t been completely lost to metal-on-skin debauchery, the grind of your clit on the seam of your jeans had been good, but not enough. Your fingers clawed at his wrists. The burn of your thighs from exertion seared through you, mixing with the jolts of pleasure from your clit to create some new, terrible monster that had you twitching with shameless ecstasy.

“Mirage, Mirage,” you croaked, as he slid you down his spike again and pushed it into your lungs, “I’m— fuck, please, faster, please, please.” In any other scenario, your begging would have immensely embarrassed you; now, though, it seemed like the only viable option to get him to fuck you like you needed him to.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, and you gasped as he kept moving you, legs jerking uselessly. “You— fuck, you sure?”

“Yes, please, just— oh, fuck!” The cry — and the air in your lungs — was knocked right out of you by a single desperate snap of his hips upward, his spike driven straight home. Your entire upper body crumpled forward, kept upright only by a tenuous grip on his wrists, and then he really started fucking you, and you were gone.

His cooling fans surged back to life as he slammed into you, power no longer diverted towards holding the actuators of his hips back. No, now he was fucking jackhammering into you, and you were barely moving as his spike pistoned in and out of you, slick drooling from your cunt. Like he remembered himself, his thumb began to work furiously against your clit, and you rewarded him with a gasp and more than a few uncontrollable moans of his name, which only served to fuel him more.

Not like he was being quiet, either. You were glad that the building was solid brick and the rain continued to pour outside, because the amount of noise coming from his chassis and spilling from his lips was worrying. Praises and broken mentions of your name streamed from him; he tossed his helm back against the wall with his optics squeezed shut to keep from overloading prematurely. It was too much— it was way too fucking much. Your poor overworked cunt was nearly bruised with sensitivity, barely able to keep up with the stretch of his spike as the nodes pulsing along it raked that sweet spot inside of you mercilessly. Neither of you were going to last long; not your fragile human body nor his torqued-up frame could handle much more of this.

Every sharp thrust paired with the frantic, messy circles he pressed into your clit brought you viciously closer and spilled tears from your eyes. All you could really do was hold on as Mirage wrung pleasure from both your body and his. Impossibly, his thumb worked faster, his pace got even more brutal, and you were almost seizing from pleasure as your nerve endings were frayed raw. That peak was building in your gut, that familiar tight coil of heat, for the second time that night, and you knew it was going to completely destroy you, and you wanted it to.

Without warning, Mirage spread his knees apart, slammed his pedes flat on the floor, and thrusted up. His spinal struts arched again to get his spike that much further inside of your yielding body, his overload imminent and warning signs flashing in his optics’ periphery. “Fuck, yes— yes, baby, yes, yes, ah, shit!” His frenzied whine rang in your ears as steam from his vents heated the air around you; the only thing that rang in your ears besides your thunderous heartbeat was the heady slap of skin against metal, everything slick with your combined fluids.

You responded in kind at the new angle with a cry of his name and some noises that resembled words, but the way he sheathed his spike inside you — fuck, was it all the way in? — and ground his thumb against your clit was too much— too much— you couldn’t—

You shattered. Doubling over from pleasure, you sobbed incoherently as your climax slammed into you. Pleasure crackled through your veins like lightning; a fog of pleasure dulled your senses until the only thing you could focus on was his spike pulsing in your cunt and his thumb still grinding against your clit. Tears pricked at your eyes, joining the ones already wetting your cheeks, as jolts of pleasure lanced up your spine. Maybe you moaned his name, maybe you didn’t. You couldn’t tell.

Mirage went soon after you, because the feeling of your walls clamping around his spike as if trying to suck him in impossibly further did him in instantly. His optics snapped open wide before slamming shut and he cried your name as the best overload of his life wracked his frame; the actuators of his hips trembled violently, along with his servos, as transfluid gushed into you and was immediately forced out by the pure lack of room inside your cunt. Engine snarling, cooling fans nearly spinning off their axles, he held your hips as flush to his as possible while the both of you rode out your respective climaxes, twitching around each other violently. Minute jerks of his hips attempted to work more transfluid inside of you. Brain still wiped blank with pleasure, all you could do was make soft noises and let the aftershocks spasm through you.

Consciousness eventually came back to you in gritty waves. Mirage had set your body down, leaned back against his thighs, his spike still seated within you but depressurizing slowly. Transfluid seeped out of your puffy folds, and you lifted a shaking hand to collect some of it and taste it. Metallic. Like you’d expected.

Enormous vents whooshed through his frame as he attempted to cool his chassis; coolant dripped from him, some of it turned to steam by the pure heat of his internal mechanisms. Body shaking and feeling very small and human, you stroked a thumb over his wrist where you held it, feeling both its ambient warmth and a surge of affection. And satisfaction.

You were absolutely going to feel this in the morning, holy shit. Thank God you didn’t have work tomorrow.

Mirage eventually came back down to earth, his optics cracking open and cycling a few times before they flared to their usual brightness. Lids heavy and a dopey grin on his face, he carefully lifted you off his spike — it slid out of you with a slick noise that made you flush — and brought you up to face-level. With one servo, he held you tight against his torso; he planted the other flat on the floor and resituated his hips so he could slump down further against the wall, his entire frame lax.

Self-satisfaction beamed at you from his faceplates. “Oh, that was good, huh?”

You scoffed, too tired to get riled up at his teasing; you knew he was feeling the same as you. “Yeah, pretty good. I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, to be totally honest.” An exhausted laugh left you.

“Gonna count that as a win.”

“You… do whatever you want.” You waved a limp hand at him dismissively, letting the rise and fall of his chassis with his vents rock you.

“Well, then, I wanna do this,” he purred, and brought you in for a kiss that communicated all his smug affection without any of his stupid jokes. You returned it gratefully, a smile on each of your mouths as you basked in that pleasant post-sex glow.

The rain still droned outside. A boom of thunder rolled through the building; the lights flickered. Both you and Mirage glanced upward. His optics slid back down to you first.

“You thinkin’ about going anywhere in this weather?” he asked, raising a brow ridge.

“I dunno, do I have a ride?”

“Nah,” he replied playfully, kissing you again, and you found that it could storm for the rest of your life, and you wouldn’t really care. So long as you had your favorite — yes, your favorite, not that you could ever admit around him — to keep you company.

#mirage rotb #mirage x reader #transformers rotb #transformers x reader #mirage x you #valveplug #tf mirage #maccadam #nsfw////#transformers #rise of the beasts #i wrote this entire thing on my phone in like 4 days so excuse any spelling mistakes LMFAO #doq.fic

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lets-try-some-writing · 2 months ago

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Transformers One: My Thoughts and Critiques

Note: This is going to be a very long read, so be prepared.

Before I begin my thoughts on the film, allow me to state beforehand that I will be looking at this film as a standalone film first and foremost. I will not be considering the fact that it is meant to be part of a trilogy until the end of my assessment because a good piece of media should be capable of standing on its own. With that said, minor allowances will be made because of this fact.

Additionally, I will not be applying any other continuity lore to this film review in order to limit my continuity bias (although I will make frequent comparisons). Please note that these are my thoughts and opinions and the fact that I even bothered to write more than a two sentence 'it sucked' with a wail of anguish tacked on means that the film has value. I am merely picky. Obviously, this will have a heavy does of my personal takes thrown in along with genuine analysis, so don't take my assessment as gospel.

From this point onwards, spoilers will be present. Read at your own risk.

The Good

(Me trying really really hard to not accidentally be negative.)

The visuals for Transformers One are, of course, stunning, and the voice acting, as a general rule, is very on point. Chris Hemsworth as Orion Pax and later, Optimus Prime, was a decent decision. I like his voice as Orion, but regarding Optimus? I have opinions that will be discussed later. But for the time being, his voice as Orion gives the character life, emotion, and a great deal of ethos. He's likable and interesting, giving him depth that we have not seen in any other Orion Pax since G1.

Megatron's voice actor was also incredibly well picked. The emotion and tone in his voice was undeniable and gave D-16, and later Megatron, such enthusiasm and vibrancy that I (and likely much of the audience) couldn't help but feel for him in many of his interactions and speeches. I loved hearing how his voice evolved as he went, slowly becoming more aggressive and deep. Elita-One was a reasonable pick when it came to voice actor. She certainly had tone and opinions. Bumblebee's voice actor was very entertaining when it came to giving the character development. Having Bumblebee with such a enthusiastic voice actor made him into someone who had far more depth than he likely would have otherwise.

Sentinel's voice actor was golden. He comes off just the way the movie needs him to be, and it is done quite tastefully, although it certainly doesn't break any molds when it comes to the cliche evil character arc. I adored Airachnid's voice acting. It fit her well and was a polite, but well earned shift from the snootiness seen in other continuities. She automatically has more depth simply because of her voice.

The worldbuilding for Transformers One was well done considering the time limits of the film and the focus that had to be given to other subject matters. There are many issues of course, but overall I cannot fault a single film for not having the length and depth of something like Prime or the IDW comics. The flora and fauna showcased were bright, and at least in the case of the flora, quite diverse. The designs for the few creatures showcased were interesting but not overwhelming, especially for the Quintessons. The shift from inorganic to organic was clear as day with their presence, and highlighted the love and care put into every single frame of the film. It was clear that there was real love shown to each character, movement, and scene. For once, the creators seemed to genuinely care about what they were doing.

The fight scenes were stunning. They flowed incredibly well and made excellent use of the environment and the biological aspects of fighters. The use of partial transformation and transformation in general was something I have never seen given such emphasis in a Transformers film or cartoon, not since Prime at any rate. It was done perfectly in my opinion, and showed an actual understanding of how the characters should move and likely would move in various combat situations.

Onto the actual film. The movie hops right into the action and we, the audience, are given a fantastic view into who Orion Pax is as a character. We see his longing to be something greater right off the bat, giving new fans a solid start for his character. Old fans are also given a nod to various continuities with his character design and his overall knowledge and interest in the archives tied with his station as a miner.

The design of Iacon was a fascinating shift from other continuities, that with everything being underground. And D-16's introduction was well integrated into the scene. His and Orion's friendship is masterfully done, and their interaction on the train gives amazing hints into their past, potential history, and creates interesting lore for an audience to ponder. Their relationship is by far one of the most important and intricate parts of the film. It is a masterclass in setting up a relationship prior to a film or story actually shoving two characters into a setting where more of their traits are showcased. Honestly, we can see so much about both of them from that first scene.

D-16 bailing Orion out of trouble quietly like its normal. Orion going through all the effort to give his friend something of value that is both personal and has money attached. Banter that showcases their depth and rich relationship that also flows smoothly and naturally, like old friends should. We get to see how Megatron will come into being through his adoration of Sentinel Prime and Megatronus Prime. His youthfulness combined with Orion's desire to see and experience everything brings out the best in both characters, giving them reason to be together and to get along.

I will never stop giving my praise for that first scene with D-16 and Orion since it was so tastefully done.

Their work in the mines is well directed and the introduction of Elita is... a thing. (thoughts later)

The lore presented in the mining operations is ingenious as it showcases both Cybertron's situation, lays the groundwork for the knowledge characters possess later in the film, and overall shows D-16 and Orion's hesitant heroism (at least on D-16's part) when they save Jazz from certain death. In some cases, the introduction of new information is masterfully done through the use of referencing demotions and promotions in a manner that applied to the situation in question. The lore regarding energon and the overall loyalty of the miners also demonstrates much of the mindset Cybertron is operating under and is done quite well, as seen with the cogless bots being totally fine with their lack of transformation ability for the most part.

Brilliantly done pre-set mindsets. Especially showcased with Sentinel's message to the cogless leaving them all in sheer awe and cheer. I could sense the villain a hundred yards away, but I could tell that the characters believed what they were hearing, and that in my opinion is a show of how well presented the mindsets of the characters and overall view of the society are.

The race was fun to watch, with plenty of spectacle. Orion and D-16's conversation pre-race showed more of their character and D-16's adherence to the rules vs Orion's desire for something more. Orion leading them through back roads into the race also added more depth to Orion's character which I adored (and was unfortunately underutilized). I appreciated the tricks pulled by Orion and D-16 to win. I also adored the brotherhood shown between them, especially how Orion went through the effort of giving D-16 his chance to be a hero, even if D-16 was hesitant. Their brotherhood in the beginning of the film was honestly one of the best highlights, and distracted me from many other things that I will discuss later that were less than optimal.

I loved seeing how excited D-16 was toward the end of the race, and of course how Orion stopped to help him. Their banter in what I assume was the medical bay was also enjoyable and laid further groundwork for D-16's character.

The scene with Sentinel congratulating D-16 and Orion Pax was suitably filled with awe and stiltedness in equal measure. It played well and showed D-16's character as well as Orion Pax's passion and drive. One thing I will not fault the film for is Orion's devotion to his goals. They were clear and remained so from the get-go along with D-16 admiration (right up until the fifty minute mark).

The meeting with B-127 was unique, and an interesting show into the madness that forms in those who are condemned to the bottom rungs of society, even though it was played for laughs. The introduction of the main plot device was something I have critiques regarding. Although, with that said, D-16 and B-127's reasonings for going were both done pretty well. I like how D-16's reason played off his character and previous history with Orion. Again, the brotherhood between them is key in this film.

The logical leap to get onto the trains was well done and also set up essential plot devices for later. Elita's presence was odd, but whatever.

The fight scene on the train and the rush to stop Elita from telling on all of them was well played for the most part. Her anger made sense and her snark didn't exactly come from nowhere. Her taking of the map made reasonable sense (although I have opinions). B-127 is vaguely humorous at times during their journey, which I can appreciate in small doses. (His cave comment got a vague chuckle out of me.)

The introduction of the Quintessons was well placed in light of the future scene with Sentinel. I loved our main characters maneuvering to avoid detection as it showed their cooperation as a team for the most part. Orion's knowledge of the Quintessons made sense in light of the very first scene in the film (again, it was an excellent start to the movie and laid a lot of groundwork).

There were a few scenes in this film that really kicked me in the feels, and the moment the group enter the cave and find the bodies of the dead Primes is one of those moments. The scene is solemn, not a hint of snark or banter to be found. Everyone is lamenting, thinking. The atmosphere was perfect, and the sheer emotion from D-16 in particular was delightful in its own quiet way. The way he sat before Megatronus Prime was emotional. For once in the rapid fire mess that is TF One, time was taken to let everything sink in. You can see a quiet shift in him, and in Orion there is something that makes the audience note how lost he appears. Elita and B-127 only added to the scene as their usual lines died off, letting the scene simply breathe. It was, in my opinion, very well done. Especially with the music running softly in the background.

Their worldview was shattered in that cave, and I adored seeing it play out.

Alpha Trion's character was done well, very well considering how short of a chance he had to be on screen. He showed proper confusion, but then moved along once he noted the situation. There are things I would change obviously, but his character played its part, and I appreciated how he got to the point and limited his cryptic behavior to an extent. He seemed tired, as he should have. His death was also well timed and I appreciated how much the movie wasn't afraid to straight up off a titular character in other continuities. The scene with the T-cog distribution was also a delight to watch. The animation was very clean and it gave me a whole lot to ponder biology wise.

I must say Sentinel's interaction with the Quintessons was, quite frankly, not surprising. But it did convey its point well. I like watching this noble looking character finally drop his façade fully, bowing before invaders and shocking our main cast (even if the audience could see this coming from two seconds into the film).

D-16 and Orion's first argument hit me in the feels, mainly because I really did understand D-16 far more than I did Orion. He was angry, he wanted justice, and above all else, he looked lost. I was simply enthralled with the way his character started to shift and change, going from passive to aggressive in response to rapid fire hits to his worldview, ultimately leading to a perfectly reasonable bot shattering under the pressure.

Alpha Trion offering the group T-cogs from the Primes was interesting and left me with many worldbuilding related questions. The scene where the group first transform was fun. I liked how the characters were given a chance to show their inexperience and struggles. Disregarding the comedy, it made perfect sense for bots who'd never once transformed to have to learn to do it all from scratch, trial and error. It was fun, especially D-16's leg being stuck halfway into turning into treads.

From here my praise is a bit more limited, but I enjoyed seeing D-16 flex his authority and get his group in line. I appreciated the moment of tension between him and Orion, showing the conflict brewing and yet the lingering brotherhood that had not yet cracked. It was delightful to see the war going on inside D-16 in that moment, the hesitancy and the care for his best friend buried under newfound rage and betrayal. Orion later doing his best to try and check up on D-16 was a delightful touch that only further cemented their struggling companionship as the film progressed.

Seeing Starscream was fun. Shockwave's voice was a nice addition and the extra emotion I find was a bonus. Also Soundwave with unique abilities. Nice.

D-16 beating the ever living snot out of Starscream was fun on its own, at least without considering the context and pacing. I enjoyed Starscream's character and the change to his usual cowardly behavior was, in my opinion, well earned and much needed (at least so early on in this new continuity). Orion's growing confusion and uncertainty was a lovely touch. I also adored how he stepped in, bringing D-16 back to reality long enough for him to spare Starscream and make his declaration.

Just going to throw this in here. Sentinel Prime is peak evil and I loved how cruel he was throughout the entire film. He oozed snooty and evil billionaire. The entire scene with him slaughtering Alpha Trion like some sort of hound, his dialogue, and later his insults toward D-16 were just *chef's kiss*. Him carving Megatronus's symbol onto D-16's chest was downright evil and served to further prove just how terrible he was. It was a great scene with very solid dialogue. Honestly, despite how evil he was, Sentinel was one of my favorite characters simply because he was consistent and his dialogue was very well done without any severe stilted moments right up until the end.

Not much to say about the D-16 capture and the Orion & Elita-One pep talk scene. It happened. More thoughts in The Bad section.

Additionally, D-16 staring death in the face was brilliant. I loved seeing his sheer defiance, and the way he met his potential end with honor even when B-127 was willing to stay down. It spoke so much of his character and his development since the beginning of the film. He went from wanting to hide from fights to actively standing up for his rights.

Orion talking to all the miners was, in theory, and probably on paper, a fantastic scene. It wasn't as grand as it could have been, but I really appreciated the size difference between him and the others combined with his attempts to rally them. His speech was moving and I could see his comradery with his fellows the spark of Optimus Prime within him. I loved seeing him rally his troops, encouraging his people to stand and fight. The miners being all so small really did wonders for the scene though. I know I already referenced the size difference, but seeing all these cogless bots look up in awe did something wonderful, especially with the lighting.

The revelation of the truth was downright brutal. It wasn't done as well as it could have been, but I appreciated it all the same, even if it gave off "I'd kidnap a thousand children before I let this company die!" vibes. (Thank you, Monsters Inc).

D-16 fighting Sentinel and then the subsequent attempt on Orion's part to calm him down was... painful (in a good way). I knew it was coming, I could smell it a mile away, but I honestly hadn't expected the scene to play out as it had. Orion trying to stop D-16 once was expected. Him trying again and getting hit was very him, and very powerful with D-16's response thrown in. Seeing the anger that had been brewing in D-16 fade for a moment to instead be replaced by guilt and grief for a precious second brought me nothing but sheer joy. It was such a turning point for the character, especially when the disbelief in his tone hit. D-16 holding onto Orion while on the verge of breaking down, warring with himself, and then deciding to let Orion fall?

Beautiful.

In that moment, we got to see D-16 metaphorically die alongside Orion Pax, breaking their brotherhood so that Megatron could rise from the ashes and try to bring down everything that led to their paths crossing and ultimately diverging. Honestly, I would have paid good money for an alternate ending where Orion died and stayed dead for a while longer, specifically so that Megatron could have a chance to grieve and contemplate. There was just so much going on in that scene with the music, the loss, and the tension that made it a fantastic visual.

The whole comparison between Orion and D-16 as they changed and morphed was a wonderful thing to witness. I enjoyed Megatron's birth a bit more than I did Optimus's, but that was largely because as Orion approached Primus's core, I personally would have adjusted a few small things to keep the dramatics in place. Megatron's birth however was truly stunning, showcasing his strength, his rage, and his passion all in a few short scenes. The music was phenomenal and only made it all the grander. His speech was simply perfection and I have absolutely no complaints. The concept of Megatron was rightfully embodied there and I was all but squealing in excitement when he made his declaration.

Optimus and Megatron's battle was amazingly done. The fighting and the use of weapons and transformation was spectacular and I have exactly zero complaints regarding the fight scene on its own. Optimus then banishing Megatron from Iacon had its own set of feelings, although, there are things I would change.

Bumblebee's line at the end of the movie was actually funny. It got a very solid chuckle out of me.

The flashback was adorable. I loved seeing the contrast between the bot who D-16 was, versus what he became. A brilliant scene, albeit a tad out of place in my opinion.

I have exactly nothing good to say about the last few sequences of the film. But I will say that Megatron is forever awesome.

With all that said, the music for the movie was phenomenal and made scenes that otherwise would have been simply moving into heart wrenching moments of awe. The Fall is by far my favorite simply because of all the emotional tracks in it. Every time I listen, I see that pivotal scene play out in my mind. Megatron and Optimus's birth, so perfectly contrasted and the emotion played out spectacularly. It's been days since I watched the film, and the emotional value of the music hasn't worn off in the slightest.

The Bad

(Aka, my rant combined with actual critiques)

Oh boy here we go.

Orion is just off. As a character, there's something off about him. He's perfectly acceptable on his own, but there is a lack of substance to him that makes it difficult to find him compelling at times. We never really know why he even gives a crap about the things he does. He just cares about the Matrix and becoming greater because of... reasons. There's no basis for his interests, not like D-16 who expressed in dialogue and actions why he cared about the things he did. He loved Sentinel because Sentinel "saved" them. He loved Megatronus Prime because he was the "strongest Prime who ever lived". Orion's reasoning for caring about the Matrix and freedom in general amounted to wanting to help Sentinel. I mean, it made sense, but it wasn't particularly fulfilling for his character, especially when the rest of the population was perfectly fine with their situations for the most part.

There needs to be reasoning. What happened to him to have him break the mold and try to act out? Why did he break it at all? Orion is obviously an outlier in mentality, and therefore he should have at least been given a single line of dialogue with D-16 to explain his interest, (excluding his declaration of wanting to help Sentinel find the Matrix. That is a mere statement and it didn't give me much of anything to understand why he cared since he wasn't as devoted as D-16). This issue follows him throughout the whole film. He's a bit of a shell at times, although it could have been due to the way his dialogue hit. This lack of foundation for his character made it difficult for me to really feel for him like I did with D-16. When D-16 got angry, I was on his side because I understood where he was coming from. But with Orion? He was always just... there. He expressed emotion and I loved seeing how he shifted, but his growth didn't match the pace the movie set, leaving him in the dust a bit.

It weakened his character drastically.

His voice is also a tad... bland. No offence to Hemsworth, but I just don't think he managed to capture Orion like Brian Tyree Henry managed to get D-16 and Megatron. Orion had his moments, and those moments were spectacular, but his speeches never had any of the depth of Peter Cullen's Optimus or the youth of TFA's Optimus. He lacked something distinctive to set him apart. He tended to sound somewhat blank in certain scenes, almost like Hemsworth had only just been given the script (or was still attempting to be Thor). It was especially bad when Orion becomes Optimus Prime. Where Hemsworth did an arguably fantastic job as Orion, his voice simply didn't fit Optimus. Am I biased because I enjoy Peter Cullen more? Yes. But also, Optimus is a mech meant to show power.

He needed a deeper voice desperately, something that would rattle and have the tone of a true commander, demanding respect even when he's being gentle. Hemsworth was a fine Orion Pax, but Optimus needed to change and become something more in my opinion. They didn't even have to change voice actor if Hemsworth could pull off a bit of range like Brian Tyree Henry did with D-16 and Megatron.

No complaints about D-16's introduction.

Back to the film. The sheer amount of background Easter eggs was fun right up until I started seeing far too many familiar faces in the same place. The world of Transformers One, unfortunately, feels incredibly small. We see Iacon and we see the cogless and Sentinel's servants, but nothing else is really there. It's a strange emptiness. I can tell the film creators were trying to fill the void, but we never got the chance to see those who did more than just mine. Where's the middle ranks? Who is running everything else? Why is every single Autobot a miner? There should at least be a few middle rank bots wandering around. We did see scenes with random civilians at the end, but I would have liked to see a greater range of work involved in Iacon. Even just a medic would have been great. If those things don't exist, then how does the city operate? Where the heck are the other cities? Is there a council of some sort? How is Sentinel running literally everything without an inner circle? We only ever see Arachnid after all.

Honestly, a tad more variety is what we needed. Not to say the variety we got was terrible, but seeing a medic, a random vendor, or even a military drill sergeant in the background would have done wonders I think.

Additionally, there should not be so many familiar bots all in one place. I know this is a new continuity, but it feels weird because there is no way every single big Autobot just happens to come from Iacon because they were ALL cogless miners. If that is the case, that destroys so much depth it's not even funny. I mean, the continuity can do what it wants since its new and has its own lore, but I suppose its a bit of a let down if everyone shares the exact same origin. Additionally, the voice acting for most background characters was... fine. Some scenes were fantastic, like the race where everyone rushes to see the miners on screen. But the movie could have greatly benefited from a few more unique and passionate voices. I wanted to see true anger, REAL heartbreak at the lies that had been fed to the cogless. This is more petty than anything else, but a few more voices and a bit more depth would have been fantastic.

It's only made worse by the fact that the entire film just feels tiny compared to the scale its operating on. One city, one mining area, one train, one open field, one race track, one abandoned base, one rebellion base, and a cave. Sounds good on paper, right? Lots of room to move. But we never see anything about any other part of the world. Not even a mention or a poster on the wall for a different city. It made everything so much smaller and more controlled. That's not necessarily a bad thing film wise, but giving artificial depth through background characters and whatnot would have been great. Even just some chatter from background characters would have served this purpose. Think about Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. Both movies referenced planets and places that came into play later far before they actually showed up, and in only one or two lines. TF One needed such dialogue if it wanted to establish the scale of the world. Unfortunately, we didn't get that.

The first mining scene in the movie agitated me on a spiritual level. Not necessarily because it was bad. I found the actual operation of the scene very interesting, especially seeing how Cybertron reacts to the mining and how the bots go about getting energon. It was downright fascinating watching the trained and trialed methods the crew used to get in, do their mining, and get out. Jazz was hilarious. However, Elita-One murdered the mood for me.

Elita is... an interesting case. I will just say it outright. She serves no purpose within the film that actually means anything. And this fatal flaw reflects horribly on her character. On her own, a bit of snark and anger over her situation and even the arrogance would be good character flaws for her to work past, but combined with her place in the film, it made her nothing short of grating. Every scene she did anything more than fight or offer reasonable commentary was a slow torture for me. There was nothing to give me a reason to like her. She's an arrogant bot who thinks she knows and can do everything, and that bothers me. If there was something for her to have to go through to work past those flaws, then I could appreciate it. But she maintained her poor disposition throughout the entire film with little to no outward changes. It was a wasted character and an arc that was never even given a chance to exist.

With that said, every time Elita turned up and started getting talkative I died a little inside. I am prepared to be crucified for that take.

Elita's attitude after Orion and D-16 saved Jazz was just the worst. Even though I understood her take, she still bothered me with her rudeness. She's a very selfish character if you really look at her, and it shows. Her voice acting wasn't bad, although there were a few repeat lines that got stale fast.

The Iacon race was a fun concept, but Orion's character was again left to exist in a vacuum when he took D-16 to the race. Evidently, Orion knows a crap ton about the underground and travelling discreetly. This skill is never seen again. Nor is his knowledge of travelling quietly on his own ever mentioned after this scene, to my knowledge at any rate. Whatever the case, he was given a hint of lore and then left to go be rebellious for reasons we still do not have a solid foundation for. Honestly, I understood D-16 far more than I did Orion and I think that's a problem in a film meant to be their origin.

I have no real complaints about the actual race. The scene with Sentinel had nothing for me to comment on negatively.

Bumblebee is again, another character who holds little use in the film. I understand WHY he was put in (fanservice and all that), but the way he was implemented was very poor. There were far better ways to incorporate him into the story and actually make him important and telling. Instead, he's just a chatterbox there for jokes and one liners. He's far less agitating than Elita though because at least he has vague chemistry with our main protagonists. Also, B-127's whole nickname sequence should have been cut, or at least sidelined a bit. It really wasn't that funny, and if the crew were trying to show how isolation has gotten to him, the whole fake friends part got that across quite well.

The plot device was ridiculous. Not necessarily in its existence, but in its implementation. You want to have a SOS message from Trion to be the key? Cool. DON'T put it in the actual trash in the most obscure place on Cybertron. The fact that the bloody message survived is a miracle and quite frankly, it felt contrived. There were far better ways to implement the message. Think about Stars Wars and R2D2. Personally, I would have been privy to a bit of War for Cybertron coming into play, or possibly Smokescreen from Prime. That way Bee could actually be useful while still offering the crew their plot device. That said, it wasn't the worst thing and with a bit of grace, it is not a major sin.

The train scene with Elita was actually painful to watch. I despise her so much, and she just made the whole thing agony to get through. I skipped through her kicking the guys around like boyscouts because it was not appealing in the slightest. (I do understand some people like her, but I am not one of them and this is where my bias shows most.)

No complaints about their stint on the roof of the train.

Elita's entire scene on the ground where she gets in Orion's face made me want to strangle her. I can understand her reasoning, but she's so frickin annoying that I simply could not care about her in the slightest. Her lines might have even been funny if she hadn't been such a poorly done character.

Why does she get the map??? Why??? She isn't even meant to BE there??? Orion, why are you letting her walk all over you??? That's your evidence! You can't even trust her! Let D-16 read the bloody thing. He feels like he has the most braincells out of all of them. I get that they were aiming for girlboss and mom friend vibes combined with Elita, but she's simply agitating and I think it would have been far better for Orion or D-16 to lead the way and show more of their character. Actually, let Orion do it. He snuck into the archives all the time. He's a perfect fit for the role and would have given him the chance to show off that foundation that he lacked throughout the entire movie. If they REALLY needed Elita, they could have used the chance to build that oh so lovely ship bait for fans by having Elita and Orion have to work together to successfully read the map. After all, Orion knows all the weird underhanded stuff and Elita was a team leader for the miners. Their combined knowledge could have been a bonding moment AND been useful to the plot later to show why they fight together in a reasonable fashion.

Again, Transformers One feels tiny. There was one creature type shown on screen, and I understand animating is a pain, but even just some shifting shadows as the group walked would have been nice. Would have made things feel more alive and artificially expanded. (again, a petty complaint above all else. Maybe Cybertron just doesn't have a ton of animals.)

No complaints about the cave scene.

So... T-cogs can just be taken from the dead? Is that not a health issue? We see later that Megatron taking Megatronus's T-cog changes him further. Does that imply that all four of the crew are now biologically related to the Primes? If those T-cogs aren't rusted to hell and back after fifty cycles and don't give the crew infections later, this has some startling implications. Less of a complaint and more of my confusion. Seriously, are there no prerequisites to have a T-cog when a bot's original one has been removed?? Does this mean that biological offspring can be a thing via passing on a T-cog?

(I have some worrying thoughts about relationships on Cybertron now because of the shift in characteristics for the crew when they got their Prime inherited T-cogs)

Too much exposition from Alpha Trion. It fit the scene certainly, but the whole film had a running problem of mouthing off and throwing exposition around like candy. It was not done particularly tastefully 90% of the time. In fact, the only exposition that I liked was from D-16 and B-127 because it felt natural for them to explain things as they did. Trion's was cool certainly, and honestly if Orion's first exposition in the archive and then Trion's were the only dumps, I would have been quite happy.

I can't believe the Primes fell as easily as they did. I understand they were ambushed. But how on earth did Sentinel manage to personally cut down several of them when, up until that point, Alpha Trion said they were winning? One sneak attack is understandable, but the rest was a bit unbelievable. Especially Megatronus Prime.

Why is everyone suddenly so chill with killing? I mean D-16 just shot someone to DEATH despite having never raised a hand to pretty much anyone with intent to kill up until that point. Is this a society thing? Cultural? (I am not talking about Orion here. He's a sunflower compared to B-127 and everyone else going off and chopping enemies to bits)

Regarding D-16's arc, it was rapid fire from this point onward. I can see what they were aiming for, but there was a distinct lack of anything to really cause him to fall as far and as fast as he did. Actually, allow me to rephrase. Rather it was that he HAD reason, it was simply too fast paced of a film for me to feel his change and truly cement it in my soul. It stuck and it most certainly made sense, but it was a bit like whiplash when he chose to let Orion fall to his death despite them having gotten along up until that point for the most part.

Orion is an idiot as well. He spent all of D-16's rapid fall into warlording staring at his best friend like a confused goldfish. He did very little to step in aside from try to ask if D-16 was alright and stopping him from killing Starscream. Yes, D-16 was captured and there wasn't a lot of time to do therapy. Yes, the rapid character change occurred literally over the course of like, a day and change, so I can't fully blame Orion. And do I understand why he was so hesitant? Yes of course. The change was super fast. Do I also understand how and why D-16 fell? Absolutely yes. Were both of these characters rushed? Abso-frickin-lutely. The foundations were there and they were fantastic. They just had to be roller coastered to their completion without any regard for the emotional value of pacing their respective shifts away from their previously shared goal.

I do not truly blame the film creators for the rush, but it does kill a lot of the emotional impact that would have come if we'd been given more time to see D-16 and Orion have more and more arguments over increasingly difficult moral decisions.

Starscream and the High Guard are stupid. They are a fantastic concept on paper, but much like half the cast, their implementation was poor in the extreme. They came from nowhere, were exposition dumped into existence, and promptly followed the rando who beat the snot out of Starscream and could have, for all they knew, been an actual spy. For some of the best trained bots on the planet, there was not a single braincell amongst them.

Starscream had so much potential too. But that vanished into smoke twenty seconds into his face getting bashed in. Soundwave looks like a taco. And he acts like one with his lack of substance character wise. Shockwave was neat right up until he got wrapped up into the stupid gag with B-127. It's a dumb joke and it destroyed whatever seriousness was building. Like come on guys, we are at the one hour mark. It's time to get serious or go home. Again, aren't these the High Guard???? Very important very well trained bots??? Why are they acting like savages and petty children? We at least need explanation for that if we are rolling under that rule. They needed more depth desperately. As it stands, they were nothing more than free guns for D-16 to yoink for future movies.

Also, again, Orion the goldfish. Standing there all confused without doing a bloody thing about it. He's so passive in this movie and it infuriates me because it feels like his character arc never picked up the pace like D-16's did at the hour mark. I understand he's going through a lot and watching his bro fall is likely a bit shock to the system, but one would think with how close they are that Orion of all bots would be the one to try and humble his brother in arms. (I am aware he did his best with what time he had, but still). I know that if one of my siblings decided to go all murder hobo on me I would be the first to get up there and throw a shoe at their head. Once more, I do understand that Orion was likely in shock, but due to the pacing of the film, he feels a bit like stale bread right up until he's literally shot.

Neat, a fight scene. D-16 is captured, ooooh that could be interesting- aaaaaaaand there's Elita being the worst again. Great pep talk. Fantastic even. Now I hate her even more because all I am getting is sheer arrogance and not even in a humorous way like Knockout from TFP. Good heavens Elita sucks.

"We won't follow you." *Elita exists* "wE wiLl fOLLoW yOu" - Frag ALL the way off with this garbage. High Guard indeed. High on drugs and low on self-esteem. Elita has done NOTHING to prove herself worthy of being followed, or Orion for that matter. It would make far more sense for the High Guard to just be pissed off and opt to go fight Sentinel on their own since they've lost their new leader and a ton of their troops all in one raid. It would have been majestic for them to straight up decide now or never and lead a charge, and then have Elita and Orion join them with unexpected troops in the form of the cogless.

Again, aren't these guys meant to be the High Guard? Why can't they get into their own city? Surely they have contacts or old knowledge? Actually, why can't Orion bargain his way into their ranks using his knowledge of all things underhanded in Iacon? It would have been a great callback to his scene getting himself and D-16 into the race. I know they sort of went that route by having Elita get everyone in while Orion went to fetch the cogless, but it would have been way more interesting to see them working together in a logical manner and planning their attack. I know there were time constraints, but that doesn't mean they couldn't have worked together for a short period of time and shown either the brutality of the High Guard or their similarities in regards to goals and ideals.

The scene with Orion addressing the cogless was certainly stunning, but it needed more. Emphasis, tone, lighting, music. I think it needed something just a touch grander. Not too much mind you. Orion needed to have come back with a new aura around him, something to really make him stand out aside from his newfound height. This is his dawning moment after all, his first spark of Optimus Prime. If he'd spent some time scheming with the High Guard, maybe he could have had an air of a fledgling soldier, just bloodied and ready for battle. He did punch Darkwing, and that certainly helped, so I will give him a pass in this regard. His speech still would have meant more if he'd been a bit grittier and yet still kind, especially contrasting D-16 who took one life and then never stopped doing that. His compassion was a nice touch, as well as his relatability to his fellows, but there had to be that hint of something more commanding. He had the inklings and I appreciated his first real speech, but the rallying cry was, in my opinion, a tad off. It could have been due to the voice acting. (Seriously though I did love this scene, I just have itty bitty suggestions regarding how it could have been better. And Orion made a funny face halfway through his big pep talk so there's that).

The background character voice acting didn't show quite enough confusion or awe for me to really be sold on the scene. I would have preferred something more akin to the TFP scene where the kids are introduced to Optimus. Shock, awe, excitement, a hint of fear. Those things were present of course, and I understand the miners were tired from doing their million and a half shifts. But a bit more could have been done. More background chatter essentially.

No complaints about the Sentinel and D-16 interaction.

The battle scene was well done, all of them. The Arachnid thing worked, but the big reveal of the truth did absolutely feel torn right off of 'cliche villain downfall bingo'. I would have liked something a tad more original. Just a bit. But it did get the point across well enough so I can't really be upset.

Again with the background characters. It wasn't bad, but where's the RAGE?!? Where is the sheer chaos? It was emphasized later with the battle, but I think that scene with the big reveal needed a bit more violence so show just how unruly the population ended up. It could also make it clear why so many would eventually choose to join Megatron. Give me ONE guy with a Molotov cocktail throwing it at a statue of Sentinel or something. Why not have some of the cogless start attacking their superiors as well as Sentinel's servants, just to show the sheer destruction going on? Please, it would have been delightful and only have taken up like, five second of screen time MAX.

No real complaints about the scene with Orion, D-16, and Sentinel. It was still fast paced, and Orion still felt a bit like a goldfish, but overall the scene was perfect. The pacing is all that made it feel somewhat off.

The birth of Megatron was perfect. Zero complaints.

Once Orion reached Primus's core, the birth of Optimus gave off "Meeeeeeeegatrooooooooon~" vibes from the TFP Movie (Thank you Unicron. Love the voice acting man). Alpha Trion's voice was not doing it for me. It made a grand moment rather cheesy. Personally I think Orion needed whispers, echoes and flashbacks to go along with D-16's increasing violence and declaration. It would have been the perfect time to throw that flashback from the closing part of the film in. Let Orion see a ton of rapid images of him and D-16 along with increasingly loud whispers from all the Primes, cumulating in "Arise, Optimus Prime." Maybe even chuck in visions of the dead Primes, showing bits of their lives as a way to nod to the knowledge contained within the Matrix (if this continuity is going that route anyway. If nothing else, it would look cool and allow each Prime to meet Optimus in a natural manner during his creation). Additionally, that way Optimus can maintain a hint of mysteriousness but also grandeur.

Optimus flying up to the surface like superman.

I get what they were going for, but it was a tiny bit silly. I think it would have been grander for Optimus to have taken a bit longer returning, simply so that he could have the very earth part for him Moses style. I am not entirely sure. There isn't really a right way to fix this scene in light of the time constraints, and frankly the sonic shoot up to the surface did look cool and served its dramatic entrance purpose. I don't necessarily dislike it, but given the opportunity, I would have gone a slightly different route.

No commentary on the battle. It was perfect.

Again, Megatron's character arc was seriously rushed. He needed far more time. I adore him in TF One. He's quite literally the best character in there. But everything leading up to his final moment was rushed and it left me feeling unsatisfied at the end. There was plenty of foreshadowing in small ways, but those didn't start happening until the hour mark, give or take. Also, Optimus banishing Megatron from Iacon?? Why just Iacon??? Where the heck are the other cities?? Do they exist?? I'm spitballing but the whole scene felt ever so slightly off. Megatron limping into the distance didn't feel quite right. I honestly think that in exchange for wounding him, Optimus should have gotten a scar somewhere in return as a reminder of his cause. Megatron got Megatronus's face burned onto him. Let Optimus get a similarly noticeable marking, that way both players show a mark of their fallen friendship.

Sidenote: How does ANYONE know how to fight in this film?? Sentinel, the High Guard, and those with T-cogs makes sense. Orion? Sure. He did a lot of rough housing. Elita? Maybe. Hard to tell with her limited background. But D-16 and B-127? The rest of the cogless? Where did they pick it up? Its a recurring problem. And how does the crew improve so fast? I mean, they know how to fight with their big ol saws from mining, but we don't get to see in anyone except Orion so its hard to believe anything. We are never given a solid time period between the journey to the surface and then back down again, and really I think some of that travel time should have been spent with the group sparring or otherwise bantering about their backgrounds to lay the groundwork for their skillsets.

Regarding the final scene of the film, its really bad. Painfully bad.

(I would like to throw Elita off the nearest structure thank you.)

I get that they are laying the groundwork for more movies, but the flashback was quite forced. It was cute and absolutely had a place in the film somewhere, but not right there. It didn't feel quite right, or at least not with how it was edged into. The narration was just... weird, to me at any rate. The T-cogs being distributed was cool, certainly. But it raises many questions about the logic of it all. It feels dues ex machina. Not in a good way either. Not saying it wasn't cool, but it did feel forced. Like a participation trophy. I would have loved to see the cogless remaining that way and having to collect cogs from wherever Sentinel stored them, or otherwise take them from the fallen. That way they could have more diversity going forward.

That whole ending bit with Optimus and the Autobots running into the sunset was stupid. There is no other way to describe it. The scene gave nothing to the film and I think it would have been spent far better if we saw Optimus and Megatron both gathering their armies while the Quintessons loomed overhead. Megatron watching his warships be built and then him looking up at the sky. Optimus gathering up the cogless and helping them get their T-cogs via Matrix and then also looking upward. Only to then have it end with the Quintessons looming above.

The Quintessons were so underutilized in TF One it wasn't even funny. I don't even really know why they were there. I mean I understand they had to exist for war reasons and Sentinel and all that. But if they are such a threat, then they need to either be driven off so that the Cybertronian civil war can happen, or they need to make themselves everyone's problem so that Optimus and Megatron's spat looks all the worse for the planet.

There needed to be more for the Quintessons. They needed to have played a bigger role or to have been somehow removed from the playing field by the end of the film. Even one scene with them seeing Sentinel falling and then opting to get the heck out of dodge would have served well enough. But they didn't. And for that reason they are just... there. Letting their prized slaves rebel. They won once against all the Primes. Why not do so again?

Also why do they want the energon??? There are too many questions right now and not even the barest inkling of an answer.

The Characters

(A look into every character of note + my edits to their development in the film.)

Orion Pax/Optimus Prime:

Orion's character is quite well done. He has goals, morals, and a personality that shines in the right environment. His adventurous spirit gives him life, and his desperate desire for something more makes him compelling when he's given the opportunity to really flex his morality muscles. He has a bit of fight in him, an eagerness to improve and assist those around him that makes him lovable and fun. Every moment he was on screen was a delight, and there was never any point where I directly despised his presence. He had moments of greatness, and moments where I would have preferred someone consulted Peter Cullen for advice on scenes where more Optimus was meant to show. His arc was steady, but it didn't move quite fast enough to match the pace D-16 set with his rise (or fall). It was clear Orion was meant go from largely trying to become greater for his own personal reasons to instead fighting for something more than himself. The creators were attempting to broaden him, give him more to fight for and more to lose. They were well on their way to doing that, but Orion's arc simply did not move fast enough, leading him to end up feeling a bit static while D-16 steamrolled ahead.

To adjust him, all I would want to see is for Orion to be shown having a more solid reason for his goals. Instead of just wanting to help, perhaps have him witness a hint of the mess on the surface at some point in his youth. Maybe he could mention it to D-16, saying that when he was newly forged, he either witnessed a record or saw a peek of the surface or perhaps some other Quintesson related thing to get him to feel a degree of investment in trying to help. Maybe he found the surface lovely and wanted to travel there. Maybe he heard legends of the Primes and particularly wanted to see them and make sure that they really had fallen. He either needed to show a level of devotion to the cause to match D-16's love for Sentinel and Megatronus Prime, or he needed to be skeptical. I would have loved to see Orion doubt, simply because no bodies of the Primes were ever recovered and old records did not mention the Matrix passing on (or perhaps he is skeptical in general). Whatever the case, giving Orion this foundational skepticism or believe would have allowed him to be more compelling when the truth was revealed.

Then, to match D-16 character arc, Orion should have started to try and take a commanding position earlier. Perhaps he could feel just as betrayed and angry, but instead of being more passive like in the film, his anger could instead be directed as the Quintessons who allowed things to happen as they did. Maybe Orion could feel loyalty toward his people as a whole, making him want to do things correctly and rally his kind together for the sole purpose of ensuring no other could ever enslave them, directly contrasting D-16 who was off to kill Sentinel for arguably more personal reasons. Making Orion care more about the people as a whole, knowing that they have all suffered under the threat that is the Quintessons, all the while D-16 cared more for his specific group of fellows... yeah it would have been delightful. Just, having Orion focus more on the bigger picture as the movie progressed, leading him to maybe mistreat D-16 a bit in his haste to spread the truth rather than get rid of the source of the problem. This way both Orion and D-16 could be given depth, since arguably, both are right in their approaches.

These are, of course, vague edits. And much like D-16, there isn't a ton I would change for Orion. He just needed more time on screen, and more opportunities to be presented with moral challenge and/or chances to lead.

"The line between friend and enemy is not as clear as I once believed. Once it's crossed, there's no going back, because some transformations, are permanent."

D-16/Megatron:

D-16, and later Megatron, was by far the best developed character in the entire movie. A very good thing considering the film is his origin moreso than anyone else's. He had the most growth to go through, and my goodness he went through it fantastically. He started off somewhat meek, mild tempered, and cheerful. He was a normal bot, one just happy to go about his life and enjoy his few passions as an average civilian. But as the film progressed, his character shifted from one of fun and adventure to anger and betrayal. One lie after another stacked up, slowly breaking down his innocent belief in everything he held dear until he had nothing left to stand on. All he could do was direct his anger at something, lest he lose himself entirely. His reasons were all justified, and you could see the way his morality shifted between "I want him in chains" to "you need to get out of my way, before I move you myself." and it was brilliant. Everything about his arc was well formulated, at least regarding showing his shift in character.

All I would have changed is the rate at which he changed. It was very fast paced. And from what I gather, occurred over the course of maybe a day or two. Crimes of passion are a thing, and some change really does happen that quickly, but D-16 needed at least a few more scenes of moral debate. Perhaps a scene in the beginning where he makes a simple choice that Orion's agrees with and then a very similar scene later where he goes directly against his previous choice. He should have been shown arguing with Orion more as the film progressed, and over more and more serious matters. Perhaps it starts with the map, but as time goes on, it starts edging into who to kill, who to suppress, what path to take in laying siege to Iacon, etc. That way D-16 moral shift can come a bit more naturally when he finally beats the snot out of Starscream and later kills Sentinel with no remorse.

D-16, and later Megatron, is a delightful character. There is very little I would change for him. Above all else, he needed more time on screen to shine, and I think that's the best possible critique there could be for a character.

"The age of Primes has ended. No more false Prophets. Follow me, you will never again be deceived! Rise up!"

Elita-One:

Elita-One is the worst offender in the entire film when it comes to horrible character. Where others lacked personality, she got far too much and absolutely zero development for it. She came in arrogant and came out just as if not more so. Obviously, the creators were aiming for her to be a foil for the boys, trying to make her into a more stable and commanding counterpart to Orion's, and later D-16's, rebellious nature. But her extreme arrogance, snarky attitude, and little to no love for anyone else made her presence grating. There wasn't enough of a relationship between her and the boys for me to see her in a more familial light for them, nor was there enough of an indicator of rivalry for her viciousness to not be annoying in its presentation. She was mean, bitter, and overall a pain throughout the entire film. And while there were reasons for those traits to be presented initially, they were obtrusive and took away from the film since they were never again addressed or given proper conclusion. Elita-One had no character growth, and as such, she leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Her relationship with Orion in particular was agitating. She had a backstory at least, and it did contribute to her character, but it didn't help to differentiate her a ton or warrant her arrogance, unfortunately.

Elita-One needed a reason to be so confident in herself that was visible to the audience, not just her forcing her crew to repeat her greatness. Arrogance can be done well, as seen with Starscream and Knockout in TFP, but Elita's just came off as annoying at the best of times. To adjust her character, I would have pre-established her relationship a bit differently. Instead of aiming to be supervisor, she should have been one already. To make her arrogance less annoying, she should have been shown as being affiliated with Orion before her demotion, perhaps as the one letting him get away with all his shenanigans. That way her arrogance plays off as her bantering and simply noting her station, and maybe she flaunts it around a bit, having Orion do her random favors since she won't go breaking protocol, but she knows he will. Their relationship could be one of mutual benefit, perhaps even hinting at Elita having used Orion's help to achieve her station at some point. That way they can be vaguely affiliated and their power dynamic can be somewhat equal since Orion offers a service and in turn, Elita covers his back when he decides to go and wander off.

If the creators wanted to go the ship baity route, or even just make Orion and Elita closer, it could be a thing where Elita was an old friend of Orion's who simply drifted apart after her rise to supervisor. Instead of being harsh with him during the mining scene, she could offer to speak later. Their entire dynamic could be that of ancient friendship, older than even Orion's and D-16 connection. Maybe they were in training together. Perhaps they were on the same mining crew for a while. Whatever the case, making Elita a bit nicer would go a long way, especially if she attempted to cover for Orion yet again after he broke protocol to save Jazz. She could try to cover for her old friend and be punished for it, making her less willing to help later in the movie when her aid is needed once more. Her character could go through serious growth because of this.

Additionally, if this were to be how her character played out, when she's brought to the surface, her lingering arrogance can be crushed like a grape in the unfamiliar environment. Where she once looked at Orion as a bit of a nuisance due to his habit of going places where he really shouldn't have been, she can now appreciate his skill and support him with her own. Maybe as a former supervisor, she's the only one who can read the map accurately, but for that same reason, she has very little skill in traversing the land and translating old indicators on the coordinates. That's where the boys could step in, helping and offering their skills and in turn showing Elita that while she's not the best and never will be, her skills are valuable when applied correctly, just as her companion's skills are as well. They could play off each other in a more meaningful way, helping Elita develop a healthy relationship with her companions and her ego. By the end of the movie, she could end up a bit more like Skybound or Earthspark Elita-One, confident and competent, but mature enough to know when to let someone else take the lead and when her job should be to play support.

She could even serve as a bit of an echo of Megatron, starting off where he ended. Anger, passion, and of course, arrogance. Then slowly she can learn to mellow a bit and apply herself in a far more productive manner. This could let her relate to D-16 as he starts to crumble, giving her more of a reason to be invested in him since as she improves, he starts to fall to pieces. There are many ways she could be played, but more importantly, she needs to be showed having actual chemistry with her companions and changing as a character into someone more mature. She's not a bad pick for a character, but she needed to be tempered, a lot.

"My point is, that your instincts tell you to break protocol for a reason."

B-127:

B-127 is a character that, on his own, doesn't really have a purpose being in the film at all. He's comedic and does show the beginnings of maturity in more serious moments, like when he and D-16 are captured. However, he lacks substance. He's fun, he's peppy, but it feels like a lot of the basis for his presence hinges on old and new fans recognizing his paintjob and knowing who he will become later down the line. He's a rather shallow character, which is not a necessarily bad trait since Sentinel pulled it off brilliantly. But since he is meant to be a main character in this film, I would have preferred he be given a more solid foundation. His actions are fine, his personality is acceptable, but he needed more to work with, a reason for his behavior if you will (since he can't exactly have a reputation to run with, being on sub-level 50).

I think the best way to have introduced him and given him a foundation would be to foreshadow the sub-levels. Perhaps have it be noted that bots go down a few levels and never come back, unfortunate miners who mess up one too many times. (maybe D-16 reminds Orion of this potential fate). Instead at staring at smelters, B-127 could be introduced as a scavenger. Rather than be down so many levels doing essentially nothing, perhaps show him weaving through discarded rubbish in huge heaps before they can be incinerated, taking bits and pieces that he likes. This way his random assortment of knowledge can make sense. It can explain his madness in a slightly more believable manner. Seriously, if B-127 knew how to get out, why wouldn't he leave at some point to seek out companions? Better it be that he's trapped, and now that he's got new companions, he feels totally fine accepting them and showing off his collection of trinkets since they are all prisoners together. He could state he's been down there for a very very long time, maybe making him the oldest out of the eventual group of four. This would explain why he has the plot device later, and if he shows off more confidential reading/viewing material he's collected, his knowledge base and animalistic fighting style make more sense.

It would give him a foundation as someone more feral, easily surprised, and excitable. It would give him unique skillsets, such as scavenging and self repair. If needed, he could even be the team's makeshift medic. Maybe B-127 could even have a broken T-cog instead of missing it altogether, showing that the practice of removing a cog was imperfect for a time, and since his removal failed, they disposed of him. Yet another hint of what is to come. His introduction scene would be about the same length too, since all that would change is the setting. It would also give all three time to bond since B-127 doesn't know how to escape, but has resources, which would allow D-16 and Orion to put their heads together to get them all out. It would also create a sense of loyalty for B-127, encouraging him to stay with the group. No changes need to be made to B-127's personality, just a shift in scenery.

"Are you serious? This is the greatest day of my life! I get to work for the government!"

Starscream:

Starscream's appearance in this film, much like Elita's presence, served little to no purpose. He existed purely to provide D-16 a chance to exercise his brutality and growing passion for rebellion. However, with what little time he had on screen, he presented an incredibly unique version of the character. Gone was the cowardly behavior seen in almost every single Starscream to have ever been produced. This Starscream appeared to be a highly competent character, willing to fight and die for his cause. He showed determination, energy not seen in any other Starscream. I can't exactly say he was the most intelligent character, a shame considering his station. But the embers of something more that he presented were fascinating, and in my opinion, a delight to witness.

I would have liked to have had his foreshadowed earlier. Personally, I think a great way to have hinted at his presence would have been to make him a bit of a martyr. He could have been blamed for the betrayal of the Primes, with Sentinel pinning their fall on the High Guard and Starscream in particular. That way, he could have been foreshadowed via D-16 absolutely hating him for his "betrayal" and also served to hint at the High Guard's power later. Additionally, if Sentinel made it so the High Guard looked like they'd sold out to the Quintessons, him going to the surface would be even more "Dangerous" since he'd be fighting "traitors". All the more for him to have lied above, and more to keep everyone off the surface.

Bonus if Starscream actively has a warrant out for him, as evidenced perhaps by chatter from background characters or maybe even Darkwing calling D-16 and Orion Pax "High Guard/Starscream sympathizers" for their rambunctious activity. Through this slight shift, Starscream's later appearance could be far more meaningful and make him an ally of note, especially if its mentioned that he and his people have been attacking energon trains for sustenance and to mess with Sentinel. Starscream's intelligence can be shown, as can his former ties to the Primes, all by adding a line or two depicting his presence.

"Two options for you! One, we slowly dismantle each of you one bolt and screw at a time, and really make sure you feel it. Or two, in exchange for a quick death, you give us intel on the energon trails, access to the mines, or anything else that could hurt your Boss, Sentinel Prime."

Soundwave: Soundwave can hardly be called a character in this film. He exists. That's about all he has going for him. He looks like a taco and has all the personality of one, that being none at all. There was so much potential for him, but he got a grand total of perhaps three lines before he became background noise. Jazz had more lines than Soundwave. Jazz, the cogless background character. We know nothing about Soundwave except the fact that he's with the High Guard and apparently important enough to have been in the records. No explanations regarding his abilities, no backstory, no reason behind his connections. Nothing. He's a familiar name for old fans to gawk at and does little else.

If Soundwave is going to be in a film, I feel like it is law for him to play at least a semi-important part. Even if I didn't know Soundwave from other continuities, he would still be seen as highly underutilized. Personally, I think he would have done so much better serving as an agent of Sentinel Prime who turned when he learned the truth. He could have been right at Sentinel's side whenever he was in the city, offering reports on other cities and their struggles to obtain energon but ultimately being waved off. This could help with the small setting feeling and give Soundwave character through his hesitance and concern for the rest of the population. It could be fascinating to see Soundwave loyally follow this Prime, despite his concerns, and then be betrayed with the knowledge that his world and his people have been enslaved by the one he thought was their savior. This way, he would have a very valid reason to hate Optimus when he comes into being, and consequently have a reasonable desire to join Megatron.

"Scanning electrical impulses: He speaks the truth."

Shockwave: Thankfully he's less of a taco. Unfortunately, he only has a bit more personality than Soundwave. We also know exactly nothing about him and he suffers from the same problems as Soundwave personality wise. We've got next to nothing to work with, not even a title. He also comes off as a bit of a potato since the very first thing he did when threatened by Elita of all bots was to bend the knee. It does tell us about him, but its not done tastefully and as it stands, Shockwave has the personality of a small child who got his favorite toy stolen from him.

Much like Soundwave, if one is going to use Shockwave, he has to at least have had some sort of impact in the past, if not the present. I would have liked to have seen him possibly have been the one who assisted in removing cogs from the newly forged. It is an essential part of their structure, so I imagine there is a certain degree of delicacy involved. Or barring that, why couldn't he have been the High Guard's medic or scientist and studied the process and uses of the Transformation Cog? That way, he would have a plethora of knowledge and be very invested in Sentinel's downfall since he knows the truth of the matter. Perhaps he feels guilty for having assisted. Maybe he was banished for trying to do too much. There are a thousand things that could be done with even a hint of such a backstory. Heck, maybe he could be the one to have a small mountain of cogs to offer cogless bots during the battle against Sentinel. Or if we want to maintain the emotional value of the bots fighting without their cogs, have Shockwave offer up images of piles upon piles of destroyed T-cogs or something for evidence. There is a lot of potential for him that was never realized, and all it would have taken is a line or two to establish him and his usefulness to the Decepticons later.

"He wouldn't stop talking."

Sentinel Prime:

Sentinel's character was, quite frankly, delightful. There were no redemptive qualities about him, and I personally found that to be perfect for his character. He was cruel, prideful, vicious, arrogant, and everything else I expected from a cliche villain. And yet, despite being cliche, his voice acting combined with his stable character portrayal always had me adoring how terrible he was. Whenever Sentinel came on screen, I was excited to see him because I knew how he was going to act, and I was thrilled to see it play out every time. I knew his personality, and yet how he went about his activities always exceeded my expectations. Personally, I adored how smug his dialogue was, right up until the very end of his life. It sold him as being the worst, even if he wasn't breaking any new ground with his character. Sometimes you just need a character who sucks as an individual. I appreciate that the movie was willing to make him irredeemable, unlike other iterations of Sentinel Prime who at least had a slightly non-selfish hidden motive somewhere in their backstory. There's nothing I would change about him, not in the slightest, at least not without adjusting the entire movie and rewriting it from the ground up. He fits. Simple as that.

"What truth? That I plucked your cogs from your newborn chests, forced you to mine so that I could pay off the Quintessons, and live like a King?"

Alpha Trion:

Alpha Trion was a fascinating character with so much potential history and lore attached to him. I am quite sad he didn't get more of a chance to shine, considering his past and his status as the last living Prime. He did serve his part in the movie, quite well might I add. But he could have had more. He was so very tired sounding, lost even. He seemed to care for our main cast and offered so much wisdom, and yet had so little time to actually impress it upon the main characters. He died with honor and what times he did have the chance to speak were well put together. However, I would have liked to see a bit more of him, personally. A bit more character, spice if you will.

I would have given at least one digit on my right hand to see him train our group of four, or at least begin guiding them back to Iacon so give them more time to talk. His presence could have accentuated the fallout between Orion and D-16, showing their shifting ideals when compared to the pure goal of Alpha Trion. Perhaps he could be the one to try and guide the group into working as a cohesive unit. And perhaps his slaughter could be one of those things that drives D-16 and Orion apart now that they no longer have a stabilizing force to keep them from arguing over what to do with their evidence. Honestly, I'm thinking something Uncle Ben combined with Uncle Iroh for Alpha Trion would have been a perfect way to introduce him, make use of him, and ultimately offline him in a meaningful manner. But again, time constraints are a real issue and I understand the problems the movie had giving everyone time to breathe.

"I failed you, old friend. You deserved so much better than this end."

Arachnid: She's a fascinating character who I personally would have loved to see more of. The times she turned up on screen were always noteworthy, and the fact that her intentions were largely unknown gave me a feeling like she was this movie's Soundwave. She didn't need too much development because her role in the movie was perfectly structured. She was Sentinel's right hand, his eyes and his hands. She is a perfect example of a character who doesn't need much exposition or backstory simply because she fulfills her role perfectly. We can make assumptions and still have room to speculate, but her character doesn't feel like a vacuum or like its missing some grand piece. Would I have appreciated a hint more for her thought? Yes.

Personally, I think hearing rumors of Sentinel's frightening right hand might have given her the final touch she needed to be a solid character in my book. Just some bots being in awe as she walks by with Sentinel, or perhaps Orion recognizing her from some old text from the archives. That way she could come onto the scene with a reputation. Or barring that, a sense of dread. That said, I did enjoy her introduction and I have no real critiques of her. The character is built well for the time she's on screen. I enjoyed her far more than I did Elita-One which should tell you all something. A girlboss character can be done well. Look at Arachnid and her combat prowess and intelligence. Elita was just a poorly done, slapped together attempt at giving our main cast flavor.

"I see everything."

That One Random Quintesson: It looked neat. Very intimidating in its own weird way. Certainly uncanny considering the metallic scenery. Could have used at least a line or two to sell the evil. I personally would have paid money for the Quint to talk in gibberish and for Sentinel to somehow understand because that would show just how long he'd been working for the Quintessons.

Jazz: We saw him a grand total of perhaps five times and I love him. No complaints. He's very Jazz and maintains his Jazz attitude throughout every single scene he turns up in. I especially love him during the scene where Orion rallies the cogless. He looks so confused and yet so happy later one when he gets his Transformation Cog.

"Little? There's nothing little about you."

Darkwing: DARKWING DUCK- I'm kidding. Darkwing's character had little to no depth, but he served perfectly fine considering his role in the movie. An aggressive enforcer of some variety, evidently high ranking enough to be in the Iacon 5000. He's got enough flavor to him that I'm sure someone in the fandom will decide he is their blorbo and run with it. He's not breaking any new ground, nor are his lines anything noteworthy. He simply is, and considering his role, it suites him.

"You are no cog bots with limited options. Report to waste management immediately."

Background Characters in General: Nothing really of note. They existed and served their purposes. I appreciated the fact that no two bots were the same appearance wise. It made Iacon feel more lived in, a trait desperately needed considering how small the world felt. Seeing so many familiar faces was fun.

The Plot

(An assessment of the story overall & its holes.)

The plot was fantastic, at least with all the random unneeded scenes not considered.

There were quite a few themes present, most of which were at least touched upon. Honestly, the journey to discover the truth was a wonderful overall plot. I have very few complaints about the way the story set out. Two miners who, by accident, are cast away and gain an inkling of the truth. This in turn sending them on a quest to uncover said truth, only to have their worldview shattered. It's simple, and at the end of their road, their differing ideas regarding what to do with the truth are what drive them apart.

There are some things that don't add up, such as the time it takes the crew to actually get from Point A to Point B at any given part of the film. Time is a real issue in the movie. If we had only been given the illusion of more time passing, some of the pacing issues might have been less in our faces. Additionally, there are a few inconsistencies.

The boys being chucked down fifty sub levels because the plot needed it to happen. The plot device just happening to be there for reasons. How B-127 and the boys know how to get anywhere is beyond me. Elita being at the exact train they need to board at the exact right time is a bit off. The t-cog situation is interesting and I can't help but wonder how that whole mess really works. The High Guard popping out of the ground like cabbage patch kids. D-16 suddenly choosing to betray his best friend for reasons that were not given enough time to justify.

It's just a lot of smaller things that added up, when combined with the pacing, to create something a bit off. However, overall, the base story attempting to be told is very solid, only needing to be tweaked and refined to add further depth and give characters reasons to be there at all.

A very solid 7.5 - 8/10 movie when viewed overall.

The World Building

(Current questions & Information + musings)

Cybertronians don't bleed, unlike other continuities.

I find this fact downright fascinating. When characters are killed, they don't bleed. TFP bled, pretty sure other continuities did as well. Except for G1 at any rate. It's an interesting take since energon appears to be a liquid, not crystal, on this new version of Cybertron. That leads me to believe that it must be pure energy since the moment it is taken in, it appears to go straight into powering the bot in question, rather than flowing through their veins. They are far more machine like, and I have had that fact grow on me a lot. Less alien, more mechanical.

The cogless had their cogs removed before coming online. Where are said cogs now?

It really is fascinating to think about. Sentinel had all of these T-cogs removed, presumably thousands upon thousands of them. I have to wonder, were they destroyed? Stored away in case on of the bots allowed to have their cogs needed a new one? If they were thrown away, how did no one notice or snag a few? There are many questions regarding how this big biological aspect of the cogless was kept from them.

Where are these bots forged? No Well of Allsparks was mentioned, at least to my memory.

It was stated that the first Primes came from Primus's core, which adds up since they are the closest this new continuity has to demi-gods. I would say that it would be likely that bots just clamber on out like the Primes did, but considering how fricking long that fall was for Orion, I have my doubts. Personally, I'm thinking this continuity probably is going the hotspot route where bots just kinda pop out of the ground in certain places. They obviously aren't climbing since they weren't online for their T-cogs to be removed. That leads me to believe that they likely form in hotspots and are cultivated until they are ready to come online. This would give Sentinel plenty of time to do a little removal all easy peasy.

Cycles are years. Days are days.

Interesting take on time, but ultimately kind of useless on its own. Lots of human time terms are used, so it seems cycles is just in there for alien factor. A unique take all the same though. I like it.

Primus is mentioned and acknowledged, but there is no mention of Unicron whatsoever.

It's really quite fascinating, but not particularly surprising considering the setting TF One takes place in. Many bots are uneducated, and with the fall of the Primes, it could very well be that no one knows about Unicron anymore because the threat he posed paled in comparison to the Quintessons. It could also be that Sentinel might have had any records about him removed in order to keep the population afraid of one threat, rather than many. It's not as thought Sentinel can deny Primus exists. But Unicron? Can't see it? No need to believe it. Still, it will be fun to see if Unicron ever comes up.

The war with the Quintessons is stated to have gone on for thousands of cycles, and yet there are few ruins. Just how devastating was it? How powerful are the Primes?

I am of the belief that long ago, Cybertron was an empire. There were cities everywhere and the surface was most likely covered in defenses. Most likely, the Quintessons whittled away at Cybertron's surface population, hence the war going on for so long and the people retreating underground into their creator's shell. The Primes appear to be powerful, but they were most likely scattered across the surface to try and limit the damage done by the enemy. The war was likely very close to be lost after millennia of being continually under siege when the Primes finally fell. In a sense, Sentinel likely did buy Cybertron time, but he also doomed them by destroying what history they had that might have helped them.

Are there other cities on Cybertron? There has to be, considering how large the planet is, but the offered energon to the Quintessons tells a different story. What happened?

We don't have enough information to make a good guess, but I personally believe, as stated above, that most cities were likely wiped out. Those who survived fled underground, meaning that most cities are either few and far between, or they are so sprawling that 'Iacon' encompasses far more area that we are led to believe. The offering of energon could have possibly been so small because it has been so long. Maybe, once upon a time, the offerings were far larger since more cities could bring energon in. It's hard to tell.

Is Cybertron in a post apocalyptic state?

I think so. Considering the ruins on the surface, the suppression of the masses, and the struggle to get energon, I do think that Cybertron is sitting in such a state when the movie is happening. The setting scene in Transformers One, and Iacon in particular, appear to be the last gasp of a dying race after what could have been a siege lasting up to thousands upon thousands of years.

T-cogs evidently have a certain amount of biological alteration involved in their acquisition.

This can be seen in Megatron when he takes Megatronus Prime's T-cog. Personally, I think this says something about the use of a T-cog. Some appear to be more suited toward combat whilst others have other uses. It appears to be Cybertron's version of the genetic lottery, since up until one gets a T-cog, it seems as though it is quite impossible to determine alt-mode or abilities. Look at Jazz. He didn't get his little door wings until after he got his T-cog. This has a lot of implications for T-cog inheritance too. Is that a thing that can happen? Does it affect various bots differently? Many many questions.

Does the T-cog have an effect on the mentality of those who inherit it? Was Alpha Trion aware of this when he chose which T-cogs to give to the crew?

I honestly think it's impossible to know at the moment. We don't have enough lore to make a solid assessment. But I would like to think it at least has some effect on the bot in question when they get a T-cog that was not originally theirs. Again, look at Megatron. Maybe Alpha Trion selected the Primes with the most adaptability for a reason. Perhaps some of those latent traits present themselves in their new wielders. I don't know, but I would very much like to.

Cogless bots are essentially children.

They are smaller, slower, and from the looks of it, less liable to fight against those larger than them (although that could just be common sense.) They don't appear to be less intelligent or anything, but I do imagine the T-cog is a sort of wakeup protocol for bots. It diversifies them, allowing for specialization. So yeah, from the looks of things, they might as well be children frame wise.

No noticeable spark chambers. Instead, we have the slot for T-cogs.

I find it downright fascinating that instead of having a way to expose their sparks, the TF One bots instead expose their slot for their T-cog. There's not a ton I can gather from this lore except for the fact that this must mean sparks are likely farther into the frame and more protected, and like a human heart, probably not meant to be seen.

(Also the smut writers are going to have to get creative)

There are different Primes this time around. Still Thirteen of them, but a few old and new faces from various continuities.

I have no clue what it implies for the most part, but from the looks of it, we aren't going to have an IDW/TFP Arisen any time soon. All the Primes are named, have faces, and are confirmed to be dead. There's no mystery here about some secret resurrection Prime goofing around in the background. I like it personally, even if it does limit the more mythological aspects that could be present in this new continuity.

There don't appear to be any sort of familiar or mentor-mentee social structures on Cybertron. We also don't see anyone who acts young enough to possibly be newly forged. Does this mean everyone comes online with basic knowledge? Or are they put through bootcamp before even entering society?

Again, I'm thinking the bots are raised like cabbage patch kids, grown and watched over wherever they form until they come online. Then, most likely, the cogless just kinda figure it out, IDW style. Same goes for the rest of the population.

How are the cogless selected for their fate? Is it random since Sentinel removed their T-cogs before they even came online?

It's a good question that I would like the answer to. Most likely, it's a numbers game. Special traits don't appear to present until a bot gets their alt-mode, leading me to believe that the cogless are selected based purely off how many miners are needed at the time.

D-16 gained a weapon via being angry. Do all bots have that? Is it a stress response? Or is D-16 special like that?

Again, the T-cog question. It feels like it's related to biology somehow, but I don't have enough info to make a solid guess.

The Matrix is referred to as an entity. Why is that?

No bloody clue but I really hope the dang thing talks or has some sort of unique ability aside from being an extra battery that gives Optimus a really cool axe.

The bots have eyelids and tongues.

It makes sense that they have them. I just think it's neat.

Some bots have real names. Other do not.

I have no clue what this implies, but I am running under the assumption that there is either a criteria to meet to get a name, or bots just pick their names and roll with it.

The Ending + Implications

(How I think things will go from here in future films.)

The ending scene was ridiculous and felt chucked in there above all else (note: I am referring to everything after the t-cogs are distributed). However, it did offer a hint of insight into what is coming in the future.

Based on what Transformers One presented, and the fact that it has been stated that it will (if all goes well) be part of a trilogy, I have a few predictions for the coming films. Of course this is all speculation because the movie ended on a rather open ended note without much foreshadowing for what is to come, at least on the surface. So take this as my musings above all else.

Firstly, the Quintessons are going to be removed or otherwise sidelined as a threat. Optimus's line regarding the Quintessons at the end of the film leads me to believe that they were more of a plot device than anything else, and I expect them to become even less prominent going forward. I simply cannot see them being the BBEG of the trilogy considering the layout of the movie. Although it is very possible that they could serve as a minor antagonist to push the war along in later films.

If things continue as they are and the creators keep to the origin story vibe, then I see the second movie as likely focusing heavily on the war and its rapid fall into sheer chaos. I expect it to be fast paced, just like Transformers One. So quite likely, it will be a series of battles, schemes, and Megatron marching his armies while Optimus desperately tries to rally his people and fight back.

The second movie will probably be split between Autobot and Decepticon perspectives, Avengers Civil War style if I had to guess.

We will likely see Megatron gathering troops and capturing territory while Optimus fortifies what land Sentinel previously controlled in order to try and limit conflict (and promptly fail).

Optimus will go through some arc or another that gets him to fight seriously, but considering this is Optimus, he is probable to maintain his attitude of 'I can fix him' at least to an extent. Although, considering how he sent Megatron away, we may be surprised going forward.

We are going to be introduced to key Autobot and Decepticon characters throughout the second movie. Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, Arcee, and others. Starscream, Soundwave, Shockwave, and the rest will likely get actual development.

There will probably be at least one peace talk that goes south the instant Optimus dares to breathe in Megatron's general direction.

Elita is bound to get more screen time than she deserves.

Bumblebee will earn his name and either have his voice taken from him, or he will end up forcefully silenced through some other means, perhaps a vow or trauma. Depends on how mature the creators want to make him in the future.

Megatron will probably end up seeing Orion as having died in some capacity, either that, or he will see everything Optimus stands for as a betrayal of their shared history and a insult to the suffering of the cogless.

The third movie will likely end with both factions abandoning Cybertron during a great exodus (if they are trying to follow G1/comic canon vaguely.) I simply don't see the films moving to Earth since that's been seriously overused over the past twenty or so years.

I anticipate the introduction and or the alteration of previously well known characters throughout all the films. Since the creators have been willing to adjust the origin as much as they have, nothing is off the table.

Those are all the predictions I can make at the moment considering there has been very little to work with foreshadowing wise.

My Suggested Adjustments

(My thoughts for an ideal TF One which stays within the time limit, keeps to the established plot & acknowledges the future existence of more films.)

Now, again, before I begin my edit rant, I will try my very best to keep to the plot of the film and not go off track. I will be offering edits, not a rewrite (yet). Also, most of this is just musing and things I would like to see, not professional writing. Take with a grain of salt. That said, here's what I would adjust.

I would add a few lines of dialogue during D-16 and Orion's chat on the train to hint at Orion having a fascination with the surface and/or skeptic attitude toward what they've been told backed with a desire to check things out for himself. This would be just to build a little extra character. Additionally, during their chat, D-16 can remind Orion that the surface is dangerous not only because of the Quints, but because the traitors are up there. The wild High Guard, now gone mad. Orion can wave him off, stating he's not going to become like Starscream before moving onto his discussion about how he has a feeling like he's meant for something greater. The conversation can then continue as normal.

Remove Elita from the mining scene in the beginning. Have someone like Ironhide be the team leader so that his gruff personality can really drive home just how dangerous their job is before they even get started. Instead of Elita's rant, Ironhide can again remind his group about the risks of their work and maybe even discuss how someone got his or her lower half crushed in the last tunnel collapse. The group can then rush to get to work, with D-16 and Orion being all buddy buddy about it. D-16 and Orion can greet a few of their fellows, maybe assisting a bit in order to bring in more familiar faces. A brief pause can occur for Elita to look down on the group from her position overseeing things. She and Orion can share a brief look/nod/salute/gesture that D-16 can then mock and Orion can use to remind his brother in arms that Elita is an old friend, nothing more thing less. Elita can then call down, ordering them to get a move on before they get in trouble. Ironhide can then get the group hustling into the tunnel. This would solidify Elita's place of power while also introducing other characters and the harshness of the work.

The mining scene can go on as usual, but when the rescue happens, Elita can jump down and order Orion and D-16 back, maybe yelling something like: "Pax, D-16, pull back! I won't ruin my record with three deaths in one day!" in order to cement her deep care for her position. And once they make it out safely, Elita can check Jazz over for a moment before getting in Orion's face, D-16 probably trying to not be involved. There they can share some dialogue that shows Elita's exasperation with him, but also her fondness. Perhaps something like this:

"How many times have we done this Orion? I can't keep letting you break protocol!"

"Even to save a few lives?"

"We are miners. Danger is part of the job. Your recklessness is a liability."

"Even though it saved you from that tunnel collapse last cycle?"

"That is beside the point Orion, and you know it. You really need to develop some self-preservation skills."

Then of course Darkwing can jump down and fire Elita, only this time instead of being as sudden as it was in the original TF One, Elita can instead be fired for letting Orion and D-16 off yet again AND sustaining an injury to her team (RIP Jazz's leg). She can fight back, saying that lives were saved despite the breech of protocol. Darkwing can then shoot her down again even when Orion steps up to try and take the blame. This way, Elita can have the final straw moment with Orion, her expression being bitter as she has her rank badge ripped off. Her dialogue with Darkwing can hint that this is not the first time she's let things slide, hence the demotion. She can look at Orion and D-16 in sheer anger, shaking with rage as she murmurs about how hard she worked for this position before shoving past both of them. This would make her less agitating as a character but still give her ample room for snark and anger while maintaining a connection to our main cast.

When Sentinel gives his message to the people, D-16 can get just as excited TF One canon, but Orion can be a bit skeptical. The scene with Elita can influence him, making whatever skeptical nature he'd developed all the more real. Perhaps, as a bonus, Sentinel mentions that the winner of this race will get to request something from him/get a new rank. Seeing this, Orion will then want to get in both to try and prove a point, and to hopefully make it so that he can get himself and those closest to him to a high enough rank to make a difference. His hope could be that if they won, he could request better oversight in the mines and a chance to show their grievances. D-16 can still, of course, not want to be involved when Orion implores him to try and be something greater.

The race scene can stay as is, only changing to show Soundwave AND Arachnid by Sentinel's side. But when the duo are in the med bay, Ratchet can come by to fix these two idiots up. Instead of being cogless, he can be one of the higher ranked bots and perhaps serve Sentinel personally. While Orion and D-16 have their little banter session, he can work on them and probably tell them to shut up before the Prime arrives. Perhaps he also comments on their poor repair, wondering if the mines have medics. D-16 and Orion can state that they do not, earning Ratchet's anger since he assumed they at least had basic health care. Maybe he even tells them to watch their mouths, or perhaps praising them for their stupidity and being mildly in awe of it. This could set him up as an ally later.

The discussion with Sentinel can go as it does in canon, but when he leaves with Arachnid, it can be Soundwave who is ordered to 'remove' them. Soundwave can hesitate, looking at the duo and then at Ratchet would could try to object since he would know what is coming. Soundwave, ever the loyal aid to his Prime, could then call Darkwing in to take D-16 and Orion to their fate. Soundwave can even look genuinely upset at the scene, his fists all clenched up as the duo cry out in confusion. Ratchet can curse, and the scene can end with our two heroes being thrown down to sub-level fifty where no one without an alt mode with wings can escape.

Down in sub-level fifty, it can be a horror show. A huge set of incinerators where huge conveyor belts are transporting waste to the fires without end. Maybe there are even a handful of bodies amongst the mix, miners and other cogless. D-16 can continue to believe it must have been some huge mixup, perhaps getting all angry about it before B-127 appears from the rubbish, looking terrifying and scuttling over to them. He can get all up in their faces, maybe touching them to ensure they are in fact alive before his mask lifts and he goes right into being himself. He can have his nickname moment, but it can be mixed in with him showing the duo around the fires, giving them some warnings like:

"Don't mess with the bodies, those tend to be infected."

"Watch where you step! Don't want to miss energon by accident. It's rare down here!"

"With you two here, I won't have to worry about accidentally ending up on the conveyors while recharging!"

B-127 can ramble for a bit, much to our duo's horror. Then he can show them his makeshift residence, made of trash and other things. Inside can be all sorts of wacky things, including STEVE. As he's showing off his collection and gleefully pointing out things from various cities he's found, D-16 can marvel at a few of the older wartime relics Bee has and Orion can sift through Bee's stack of random reading and viewing material. As D-16 tries to smile through B-127's eager explanations of how he found things, Orion can note the symbol of the Primes on one of the small disks B-127 has. Bee can notice and exclaim how he found it on the body of someone from the High Guard forever ago. At that, D-16 can recoil, but Orion can turn the disk on.

The message can be revealed as normal, and again, Orion can convince D-16 to go despite the threat. Being trapped underground, they decide to give it a shot. B-127 sadly points out that he's been down in the sublevels for actual cycles and he's never been able to get out, not without a T-cog. At this point, he can show off his damaged T-cog, taking it from one of his shelves for all to see. The duo can be quite confused as Bee states that he came online with it broken, mentioning how he felt someone trying to mess with it before he was thrown into the sublevels. Orion's suspicions can grow, D-16 can become more adamant that something OTHER than Sentinel is going on here, and from there, they can use B-127's things and tools to work their way out. Perhaps they construct a grappling gun, or otherwise use old material to tower their way up to a vent on the far wall. D-16 can undo all the screws with some difficulty as the conveyor belts below them threaten to drag them into the fires. But with time, they can quickly crawl their way out, perhaps with D-16 grabbing Bee before he can fall back into the rubble below.

From there, Orion can use his knowledge of all things underhanded to begin guiding them up toward the surface. D-16 can add his input by feeling for wind currents and whatnot. All the while, B-127 can tell them he's heard of a train depot nearby, considering maps and other things that fell into the rubble with him + shaking over head occasionally.

Once they get to the depot, they can try to join the masses of miners loading up the train carts. Attempting to blend in, they grab grates and try to move quietly and just, not emerge from the train once they get on it since they know its heading to the surface. But as they are waiting to load, they encounter Elita. She engages with them, attempting to stop them as a form of retribution and even arguing that she's saved their hides one too many times. Orion, despite his respect for her, pushing his group on. They push past Elita, discarding stealth in favor of leaping into the train before it can take off. Elita, still upset and desperate to stop them from causing more harm, throws herself in after them with the intent to stop them. The doors close before she can, and in anger, she pauses, and books it toward the front of the train to try and halt it. Being smaller and nimble, she dodges attempts to grab at her, even knocking a crate over which hits Orion. As they make it to the surface of the train, D-16 and Orion lag behind, but B-127 manages to slow Elita down by grabbing her leg long enough for Orion to also pull himself up and grab her arm before she can hit them.

Then the traintop scene can play out as normal.

Once they are thrown to the ground, Elita can still get up in Orion's face, but instead of losing her cool, she can instead grab him, take a few breathes, and say something along the lines of this:

"Orion, since they day we met, you've been a thorn in my side. Always getting me intro trouble whenever you decide to run off with your go-bot buddies and make a scene."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But this... this is beyond any of that. We could find the Matrix, Elita. We could do what Sentinel hasn't been able to. We can save our home."

"And that is the only reason I haven't tried to punch you yet, Pax. But if this mission of yours fails, if this is all some grand hoax, I'm taking you and your pals back to Iacon and getting my rank returned to me."

"That's fine, because I quite firmly believe that this is the real deal."

"It better be, or you can bet your bolts I'm never going to let you live this down."

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

Orion and Elita share a moment of reconciliation before they both look over the map together. Leaning on each other for support as they follow the coordinates. All the while, D-16 and B-127 comment on the scenery, and helping their group avoid various hazards. D-16 might even note how there aren't an High Guard rebels, a fact that leaves him suspicious, especially as the group passes through increasingly frequent ruins, all inhabited by the bodies of bots who bear the symbol of the High Guard, or the long dismantled old Cybertronian army. D-16 might even see how it seems as though a few of the High Guard were actively trying to defend civilians, as evidenced by the bodies. This leaves him thoughtful, less angry.

There should be a few flashes of the group taking cover as strange creatures move on the surface. B-127 can pause to gather up some abandoned weaponry from an old base, earning commentary from Elita-One about how she never knew they once had so many cities on the surface. It should be a somewhat solemn march, and as they go, they can practice with their haphazard firearms by shooting as various targets to acquire what energon they can and to scare off random creatures. Orion notes the cities they pass through, listing off names he's read in the archives and being saddened by the fact that they lost so much. D-16 becomes more and more upset as they go, seeing the bodies and wondering why Sentinel hasn't recollected abandoned resources or otherwise given the dead a bit of respect in light of the fact that they haven't seen a single enemy so far.

The scene running from the Quintesson scanner can continue as normal, and the group can rush to the cave as they watch the huge ship loom overhead. The cave scene can also continue as normal, only this time, the group can be even more distraught since they've seen the remnants of their old empire and already have doubts. Awakening Alpha Trion can go as normal, as can Sentinel's discussion with the Quintessons.

D-16 and Orion can get into a slightly more heated debate than normal when they return. Orion exclaims his desire to have the people get their justice, making sure everyone knows their loss. D-16 can agree, but their argument can occur when Orion makes it clear that the people come before getting revenge on Sentinel. This does not go over well with D-16, and although Elita and B-127 attempt to step in, Orion and D-16 begin to argue more furiously until at last, Alpha Trion steps up and pushes them apart gently. Probably saying something like:

"Primus has a plan for all his creations. Do not judge too quickly, instead, act with wisdom and foresight."

Trion can offer the values of his fallen brethren, encouraging D-16 to act as Megatronus Prime would, as a guardian of the people, their voice and their sword. In turn, he can urge Orion to follow after Prima or Zeta, telling him to use his noble spark to be a voice of reason. He might turn to the Elita and B-127, but then he notes that they are low on time. From here, Trion can give the group the T-cogs of the fallen Primes and hurriedly usher them out as Arachnid draws near. The escape progresses as normal, and Orion and D-16 again have their debate. Orion stands his ground a bit longer, showing a hint of anger. But remembering Alpha Trion's words, he consoles himself and D-16 by stating that he trusts D-16, which in turn diffuses the tension.

The group can move quietly, with Elita being solemn and B-127 a bit shaken up. Orion and D-16 discuss what they plan to do as Elita watches for enemy units and B-127 hurries ahead to scout. As they talk, it becomes clear that Orion wants to rally the people and spread the truth first and foremost. Meanwhile, D-16 wants to strike hard and fast, a tactful assault meant to end Sentinel. They can worry about the truth later in his mind. They argue for a while, and as they fight, Orion can get a bit aggressive, leading D-16 to push him. As they tussle, they end up tumbling, and despite both B-127 and Elita telling them to shush and trying to pry them apart, the group are unable to evade the High Guard soldiers that surround them. they aren't given a chance to fight back before Shockwave orders their capture.

The scene with Sentinel and Alpha Trion can go as normal.

The group can wake to Shockwave assessing them, noting that their T-cogs are not biologically theirs. He finds this interesting, and since they are of interest, he prepares to remove said T-cogs/perform other surgeries to see if they are a new flavor of spy. D-16's fears are confirmed for a moment, up until Skywarp and Thundercracker stop him, ordering Shockwave to bring the prisoners to Starscream. The name rattles the group, causing them all to bunch up in momentary fear. But when they are brought before him, Starscream looks at them all in intrigue. He questions them, asking why they were on the surface at all since its essentially a barren wasteland. Shockwave points out their T-cogs, and Starscream finds it suspicious. Skywarp and Thundercracker guard the group, one with a gun to B-127's helm to keep him quiet.

Starscream steps before the group, scarred and battered, maybe even a little sickly looking from lack of energon. The rest of his soldiers aren't much better. He assesses the group before concluding that they aren't spies, merely newbuilds who got too curious for their own good. Not wanting them to go back and spill the beans about the High Guard, Starscream offers them a place as soldiers in his ranks, confirming that they fought against Sentinel, not the Primes. He also makes it clear that he will require the group's information regarding energon, that being his major reason for keeping them at all.

At his point, D-16 can step up, angry and unwilling to serve another false prophet. He refuses to bow to a mech who fled, and then their battle goes on as normal. D-16 proceeds to hold Starscream captive, stopping Thundercracker and Skywarp, Starscream's lieutenants, from acting and ordering the rest to attack. He declares his desire to fight, to strike back against the enemy while they still can. He points out their weakness, their lack of energon, and describes his experiences in the mines. Knowing they served the Primes, D-16 repeats the tenants of Megatronus Prime taught to him by Alpha Trion, rallying the High Guard. The High Guard, seeing his passion, and after watching him beat down a few more bots eager to stop him, agree to follow his lead. Starscream is allowed to live, only because Orion steps up and grabs D-16's blaster. They have a moment of tension, but it fades as D-16 throws Orion off and declares that he knows the mines and can guide them in for an assault on Sentinel. The High Guard, having little to lose and finally having a chance to fight, are eager to serve.

Orion can then step up, upset that D-16 cares more about vengeance than the truth. D-16 states that they can share the truth later, once Sentinel is dead. Elita steps up to calm Orion, urging him to not be rash and compromise. B-127 attempts a similar method with D-16 and urging him to at least take time to plan. Orion and D-16 do not back down, and just as Orion asks for them to at least take time to discuss things, the attack from Arachnid occurs.

The battle goes as normal, but in its aftermath, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Shockwave remain, along with about half their troops. Elita tries to get Orion up and going, reminding him of how his nature has saved bots time and time again in the mines, and how his instincts brought them there, to their newfound truth. She comforts him with a quick hug, urging him to get back up now that they have information to spread and friends to save. Orion agrees, and speaks with Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Shockwave. He bargains temporary leadership by offering the same information D-16 had, the way into Iacon. The High Guard are hesitant, but they follow if only to have one final hit at Sentinel before their end. They are all sickly anyway, and Thundercracker can note that without Starscream, they don't have much motivation anyway.

The group can board up on a train that passes by, throwing out the crates and loading soldiers instead. Elita takes control of the bridge with the help of Shockwave who guides her through security protocols. When asked how he can do that, he simply states that he once served Sentinel, keeping it vague and maybe stating he was his head scientist at one point and that his credentials are still valid since he was assumed dead. It could be something like that. And Shockwave can get them past security without issue. Thundercracker and or Skywarp rally the troops as Orion leaps from the train, making his way toward the mines.

There, he can speak to his fellows. Covered in soot, grime, and ash, he can hold a gun given to him by Skywarp before his leap, and he can make his grand speech. There, the miners are hesitant even after being told the truth. But Ironhide and Jazz can step up, offering their belief and support. Seeing that, other faces from the mining scene earlier in the film come forward, willing to fight. Orion tells them to gather up their tools, to fight for their freedom, and from there, the miners also raise concerns about their wounds. At that point, Ratchet can step forward, stating that he can help. Orion is in awe, but is even more shocked when he gets word that Soundwave of all bots is offering aid and supplies. More soldiers join the miners, eager to fight. Ratchet can smile, picking up a pistol and declaring that he, Soundwave, and a few others have had enough of turning a blind eye to the injustices committed by Sentinel and his kind.

D-16's interaction with Sentinel goes as normal, although Starscream does pipe up along with B-127, attempting to save D-16 neck as he refuses to bow. After Sentinel carves the symbol and Arachnid points out their incoming enemies, the scene can shift to show cogless, not cogless, and High Guard soldiers alike all pouring onto the premises. Sentinel can demand to know why their defenses are lowered, turning to Soundwave in anger. Soundwave for his part can then betray Sentinel openly, showing his distaste and getting a solid punch in before he's thrown across the room. On the ground, Ironhide can be seen directing soldiers alongside a future Decepticon of choice, perhaps the Stunticons or Constructicons help him tear down some walls or other defenses. Ratchet can also be seen working with a few of the cogless and offering covering fire as Jazz and Prowl rush forward to get in a few potshots with their far too large weapons.

The battle progresses as normal, and Orion manages to get the truth out as per usual. The scenes shift to show bots all across the city swarming in anger, breaking things and fighting anything or anyone that looks like they might follow Sentinel. Elita and B-127 celebrate and Orion orders them to go assist with controlling the assault in order to capture Sentinel's followers and limit the chaos. They agree and rush off, but Orion soon finds himself in the battle with D-16 and Sentinel.

The Fall goes as normal, only having a bit more aggression on Orion's part as he pleads with his best friend, begging him to at least wait until the people can judge Sentinel themselves. They are fighting for freedom of choice, and he tries to dissuade his friend for D-16's sake. Unfortunately, the Fall goes as planned, and D-16 lets Orion drop after he comes to the conclusion that it would be better for Orion to die here than to witness what he's going to do next. He may even tell Orion as such, calling it a mercy. Then, he lets him fall.

Megatron rises as normal, and Orion is brought to Primus's core. There he hears whispers, contrasting Megatron's speech. Orion hears the Primes speaking to him, each murmuring softly and quietly showing him visions of times gone by between him and D-16, a final goodbye of sorts. Then, it ends with the Matrix bestowed, and Optimus Prime is born as a chorus of voices calls his name. He rises to the surface as Megatron starts shooting at Elita and B-127, Soundwave joining him along with Starscream who covers his back. More future Decepticons rally around him, helping him in his rampage while the cogless and Ratchet try to limit the crossfire. It all ends as Optimus Prime comes forth.

Their battle can then progress as normal, with Megatron being banished. Optimus can still be sorrowful, but something hardens in his gaze as he turns away from where Megatron fled. He had his moment to let go when he took the Matrix, and now he's ready for war. He gathers his allies, looking over the devastation and up toward the surface. Elita comforts him quietly with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. B-127 notes Optimus's new height and points out the people below, the cogless all watching in awe. Elita encourages him to speak, and Optimus does just that, rallying his people one more time with encouragement and a declaration that they must move onward, to reclaim their freedom and their world.

He raises the Matrix high, and energon again flows. The people are thrilled, and soon they each begin to step closer to the streams of energon. The cogless lean close, and their T-cogs are returned to them. The movie closes with Optimus's narration about how their battle is not yet over, and how it has merely begun. All the while, Optimus is shown getting his people in line, Elita standing proudly by his side as he begins to organize his troops. Ratchet smiles and pats him on the shoulder, Ironhide flexes and picks up a blaster, Jazz gleefully flutters his door wings. The people salute and cheer as Optimus passes. The scene then changes to Megatron with the High Guard, rebuilding their destroyed ship. Megatron welcomes new recruits from Iacon into his ranks.

Everything ends with the two leaders looking up toward the surface, ending with Optimus overlooking their world and seeing a Quintesson ship flying away as he gives his closing narration.

This is roughly how I would adjust the movie, minus all the itty bittie things that would have to be brought up with the animators and voice actors. But plot wise, these are my adjustments. It would lay the groundwork for future films and also establish character lore early. So yeah, enjoy my take.

Arguments Against My Critiques

(Q&A against Strawmen. More of a joke than anything else don't take it too seriously.)

The movie is aimed toward a younger audience. You shouldn't be so serious with your review.

The movie had Megatron quite literally tear a mech in half. On screen. No cuts. It also dealt with the slaughter of actual Primes and touched dark themes like slavery and the beginnings of an Orwellian society on Cybertron. Sure, it had jokes and gags aimed at younger audiences, but this film was created with so many Easter eggs and callbacks that I cannot find it in myself to believe the creators were aiming for a children's film. They made it for Transformers, a franchise forty years old. When messing with such an old franchise that has always touched delicate and serious themes throughout all its media, you have to consider old and new fans alike.

Thus, I feel no inclination to be nice in my assessment. This is a film that's trying to reach all Transformers fans, so I will assess it as a full and proper movie.

The studio only had 75 million dollars and a tight time limit for the film. Can't a few allowances for pacing issues be made?

No, no allowances cannot be made. A good piece of media should be able to stand on its own, and a well constructed film should be capable of cutting excess fat in order to keep the movie on track. Transformers One was trying to do the seemingly impossible by shoving an entire origin story in one film. While I think it was possible to have been done tastefully, as seen by the glorious scenes spread throughout the film, they failed to make the pacing make sense.

They had roughly and hour and forty minutes to make their story happen, and far too much of that time was spent on meaningless characters and scenes. If that time was reallocated, the film could have dealt with much of its pacing problems. It probably wouldn't fix everything considering the tight timeframe for such rich characters, but it was doable.

Additionally, 75 million is MORE than enough to make a quality film. I doubt funds were an issue here. Although they might be going forward.

Orion was in a state of shock and couldn't be expected to act perfectly considering the situation. And D-16 anger made perfect sense so there is no need to criticize them both so harshly.

I partially agree. I can't judge them too much because on their own, these traits of theirs are expected and in fact, good for their development. Unfortunately, due to the pacing, D-16's combustive rage and Orion's passiveness came off as rushed and somewhat childish on both Orion and D-16's side. I judge them harshly because their arcs feel like whiplash, or in Orion's case, unfinished. I'm willing to give D-16 a little room because his arc actually arced, it did its thing and finished in a convincing manner (disregarding the pacing). But Orion? Nah. I judge him and D-16 because they could have been so much more given TIME.

The plot wasn't that bad. The progression made sense on paper and each shift in the narrative led into the next scene without much trouble.

I'm sure it did! I really am! If I were writing a novel with this plot, it would make sense when blocked out! But the presentation of an idea is what defines it. Transformers One had a perfectly acceptable outline, I'm sure. But the pacing threw the entire thing into a blender and topped it with mustard and kale. Because of the pacing, the plot itself started to fall apart, especially with excess bloating in the form of unneeded scenes and characters. It's a shame since I'm certain that given enough time and proper progression, the jerky scene shifts could have been made spectacular.

The High Guard could have worked. They really could have. But they needed foreshadowing and time. The same goes for a lot of things in Transformers One.

Why are you so harsh with Elita-One? She finally got some spotlight and had a chance to shine!

A shiny turd is still a turd. Next question.

You can't expect every background character to have depth or for there to be a thousand cities for the cast to traverse.

True enough! But to that, all I can say is: Environmental factors.

I don't need to see Kaon, Tarn, Helex, Uraya, Polyhex, Rodion, or any of the other cities seen in various Transformers lore to know they exist and feel the world is bigger (And if they don't exist in TF One then it would be a great hint at the horrors inflicted by the Quints to state that there are no other cities anymore). All it would have taken was a bit of background lore and attention to detail to make me and other viewers feel like there's more to Cybertron than a cave, a field, and a city. A few posters on the walls, some background chatter from side characters, maybe even Bumblebee mimicking various accents from around Cybertron since he's meant to be comic relief. Heck, just show various flashes of bots in other cities being shooketh during the big reveal with Sentinel and suddenly the world feels so much more lived in.

And for characters? I don't need Soundwave's entire biography to feel he's rich. Look at Arachnid. I know next to nothing about her but she feels alive. All the side characters needed were important side roles and a few actions worthy of note. Think of TFP Soundwave who hardly ever centered but was always there. Always doing something to assist the main story. It really shouldn't be that hard to make a world feel alive. Just attention to detail.

Why does the voice actor for Orion/Optimus matter so much? What's the point in focusing so much on it?

It matters because there is a distinct change between Orion Pax and Optimus Prime. Frankly, you could have anyone be Orion because Orion is the origin. But when it comes time for him to grow, to become more? That's when its time to put on a warface and give Optimus Prime a voice that matches the name. Optimus Prime isn't just a name, it's a title, it's a long string of powerful characters each showcasing empathy and strength in equal measure. If Optimus's voice is not distinctive or powerful, his resonance as a character is seriously damaged. Now why don't I share this opinion for Megatron? Because Megatron doesn't have a frickin relic in his chest. Megatron is a voice for the people. Megatron is the embodiment of strife and anguish. His rage and his passion is what gives him distinction, not necessarily the commanding tone of his voice.

It's a difference in character that makes me care so much about the voices for Orion Pax and Optimus Prime so much.

Why bother with such a long review at all?

Because Transformers One is the first not-garbage to come out in over a decade. (No, I do not like Earthspark. That's a whole other animal and I don't think I'd have the willpower to actually watch the thing again for a review of this length.)

I want to give this film the respect it deserves by showing my every thought for it. I want to show people that despite all its good and bad features, its still something to think about and acknowledge. I don't want something this groundbreaking for our beloved franchise to go down the drain because people were too apathetic to care or too blinded by new content to use their brains and help develop better things going forward.

Final Note

(Best film ever? No. Great addition to the Transformers Franchise? Yes.)

Transformers One was a masterclass in setting a scene and establishing relationships. Everything in the first ten to fifteen minutes of film was brilliant in regards to setting up the world and our main characters. Even if I weren't a Transformers fan, I would care about the brotherhood between Orion and D-16, or at least understand it. The visuals were stunning but not too intrusive and the film was clearly made with love. The characters that were given screen time were fleshed out as much as they could be considering the constraints. And while a great many things were very out of place and made no sense logically, at least within the rapid fire time frame that is the film, the overall movie was enjoyable right up until the meeting with the High Guard, at which point things became a bit contrived.

The plot was whack considering the film's short run time. Some things were very janky. The Quintessons weren't shown nearly enough or given sufficient presence. But again, lots of this was just a side effect of not having enough time to get things rolling slowly and properly as they should have been. It was a kick back, binge on popcorn, and scream at Easter eggs type movie.

If you want something colorful to look at and a half decent set of characters to enjoy, go right on ahead and watch TF One. You certainly won't rot braincells like you would watching some of the Bay films, but I can't in good concious say that TF One is better than older things like Prime. It is a brilliant concept that needed more time. It needed probably a two and a half to three hour runtime to set up, to get the ball rolling in a meaningful manner, and to establish the broken friendships and rivalries in a far more intimate manner. The concepts are lovely, the scenes are well done, but its a pity that it was cut so short and so many things were shoved together when they could have shone on their own in the proper setting.

There was so much there, and yet so much missing. So many pieces that fit well and yet so much more that was cast aside altogether. It is an imperfect thing, but this movie isn't a bad introduction or addition to the Transformers franchise, not in the slightest. Its a new start, a chance to make things better for this fandom and its abysmal run of bad movie after bad movie developed in Bay explosion style topped with far too much emphasis on humanity.

I believe that while TF One isn't going to be my personal favorite, or even the next big thing for the time being, it sets a new standard. No longer can we be fed garbage, because now we've been given a chance to look at something better. Hopefully, TF One will set the groundwork and foundation for far better films and shows going forward, giving this fandom new life and redeeming our sullied name as the big explosion robot fanatics.

TF One is flawed, but its a start. It's a fledgling attempt to make something new and interesting in a show business that is dead set on killing creativity and squashing anything of quality in an attempt to press an ideology. It is the baby steps shown by people who care. People who want to see the movies they never got. I will not fault it or the creators for existing. It may not be Lord of the Rings, War for Cybertron, Transformers Prime, the comics, or other big names, but it is a hope for the future.

It's not a bad movie. It was simply born in a bad time.

With that said, I'd recommend watching it at least once, if only to get a glimpse of what we have gotten and to have hope for what we might get going forward. I certainly intend to fill in holes with fanfiction, but that's just part of fandom, is it not? Enjoy this new piece of media, but don't take it too seriously. It's flawed just like everything else, but can be taken for what gifts it brings.

"We could have built the future together."

"I'll build it myself, after I tear down everyone in my way."

#transformers #maccadam #transformers one #tf one 2024 #tf one #tf one spoilers #tf one megatron #tf one elita #tf one orion pax #tf one bumblebee #tf one review #tf analysis #character analysis #this took me almost a week to write #be proud #I have put more work and study into this than pretty much anything else for transformers #enjoy my ravings #forgive any spelling errors I do not have a checker on here

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