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ckret2 · 5 years ago

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How’d you get into transformers and what made you stay?

Oh oh I love answering this question

SO when I was thirteen, Transformers Armada was airing, and my little brother watched it. One day I wandered in and sat down to watch it with him on a random episode, no idea what was going on, the robots were arguing with each other. I figured I'd watch one episode, forget all the character names immediately, and never watch it again.

Except.

The bad guys were squabbling as they went into battle. Seemed like one of them, the red dude with the wings and the pretty face, was unpopular with the others—he'd screwed up a few times in the past apparently—and he was angry about this, and determined to prove his worth. So he charged into battle against the good guys, wielding two swords—TWO swords! One was glowing and one was made from his OWN WING!—and he was ready to kick tailpipe and take names!

And then the other bad guys abandoned him.

They just teleported out. They'd left the pretty winged guy behind as a diversion, to be surrounded and thrashed by the good guys.

So here I am at thirteen years old, watching the pretty red winged robot with two swords flying above the battlefield, in the rain, going "MEGATROOON HOW COULD YOU BETRAY MEEE?" and I have not felt so much love and pain for a character since I was two years old and watching Iago use his dying breath to save Aladdin from Jafar in that straight-to-video sequel. (It's okay Iago survived.) So I say to my brother "who's THAT?!"

And my brother goes "That's Starscream."

And ya know what, I never forgot his name.

(Years and years later I looked up that episode again and discovered that the Decepticons had left Starscream to the Autobots so that they could break into the Bot base and kill another Autobot and the fact I didn't even remember this murder tells you what a big impression Starscream made on me.)

In case you haven't seen Armada, Armada Starscream is more like BW Dinobot or IDW Deadlock than he is like the typical Starscream: noble villainous warrior, zealously loyal to his cause, so loyal to the cause that he's willing to attempt mutiny if he thinks leadership is being mishandled. Paradoxically, so loyal to his faction's ideals that he's willing to throw them aside and join the enemy in order to pursue his objectives... and while he's over there, gets his eyes opened to the fact that maybe his way isn't the only way. Ultimately sacrifices himself in a suicide attack on Unicron to force Megatron to see that Unicron is a bigger threat than the Autobots and to get him to agree to a ceasefire and alliance. My love for Starscream and his honestly pretty stellar plot arc carried me through Armada.

And then I found out about G1 and Beast Wars, got the DVDs, and loved Beast Wars. And I got Prelude To Energon, an extremely obscure PS2 game set in Armada with graphics and environments that absolutely blew me away and that challenged me in a way no other games had (my prior gaming preferences had been mostly Pokémon) and gave me my first taste of stealth-oriented gaming, still my favorite play style. And then Energon came out and, despite being widely lambasted as one of the weakest series, I enjoyed the hell out of it. And then we got a big blockbuster Hollywood movie!

Transformers Cybertron (the sequel to Armada and Energon) didn't interest me, and my interest had waned enough that by the time Animated came out I couldn't get into it; but after Armada, Energon, Prelude to Energon, Beast Wars, smatterings of G1 (including the movie), and the first Bayverse movie, Transformers was solidified in my mind as a franchise that consistently put out media that I enjoyed, even as widely varied as they were. So even though I lost interest in it for a while, several years later—I think around 2011, 2012?—when I was bored over winter break and needed something to do, one of my first thoughts was "I could check out Transformers again, finally watch through Animated, see what these Prime and IDW are like."

Animated never seized my imagination but it got me deep enough back into Transformers that I started roleplaying in G1 continuity, got deep into Prime, and then IDW kept me in.

#anonymous #ask #transformers

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timelessmulder · 6 years ago

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Horror Meme 3 - Transformation

AU where Shockwave uses the captive Aerialbots for combiner experiments, starting with Silverbolt

warning for experiments/prelude to body horror, and drugs

It had been three years, nine months, two weeks, and five days since the Aerialbots had been captured and delivered to Shockwave. For each of those 1388 days, he had recorded exhaustive notes of their general statuses and all the progress that had been made since their arrival.

Some of them were simple: A subject attacked a guard, his sedative needed to be adjusted. A subject had fallen ill, his energon rations had been temporarily raised. Scrapper had arrived to provide his expertise. Others were more complicated: An overview of Scrapper’s blueprints. The results of the subjects being linked together by cortex psychic patch with intentional imperfection. The beginning preparations for frame reformatting.

And while it had no place in his scientific notes, he monitored how the subjects felt on their chances of rescue from their allies. It had gone down since his guards had begun lacing their rations with sedatives, but every now and then they would question the whereabouts of the Autobots, and if they were looking for them at all. Not that they would ever find the lab, hidden away and fortified as it was. Shockwave didn’t need any glory hound heroes ruining his experiments before they truly began.

Sometimes, however, their conversations turned to complaints about dizziness and disorientation; not knowing where one ended and the other began. These he took care to write down, and drew comparison to Scrapper’s experience with a gestalt team’s mental link, adding that the variables of “low energon” and “high sedatives” could be influencing the experience. He would have to experiment on that later, somewhere down along the line when a breakout was less likely.

But as it was, he had to focus on the task at hand in the meantime. He stood in one of the building’s lab rooms, one which held a large, medical-grade table for operations, preparing the tools necessary for this next stage of his work. Atop the table lay the Aerialbot leader, whose name was of little importance to Shockwave. It only mattered that he had been the first chosen for the modifications. He was offline, with sedative-laced energon feeding directly into his main fuel lines to ensure he stayed that way. Or, at the very least, ensure that he was unable to do anything should he awaken during the procedure.

The plating that protected his joints had been removed, exposing delicate circuitry and inner workings that allowed them to function and transform. Things to be rearranged and altered to accommodate the twists and bends that a new alt mode would require. Unlike natural gestalts, or even triplechangers, the Aerialbots were not equipped to handle a new alt mode on top of their flight modes. And Shockwave had no access to more sophisticate means of reformatting. But it was no matter, he thought, as he pulled a table lined with tools close to the prone Autobot. What was science if not a series of trial and error?

Adorning a large screen nearby was one of Scrapper’s blueprints, showing what the inner workers of a combiner component should look like. It had been decided that the Aerialbot leader would be the head and chest, so the model had been based off Scrapper’s teammate, Hook, with room for readjustment. Shockwave looked at it, even though he had already committed it to memory, comparing it to the workings of a flight frame. Without a moment of more delay, he picked up a instrument with the simple job of rearranging wires, and set to work.

An hour in he noticed the lights in the Autobot’s eyes switch on, pale blue with a hazy glow from all the drugs running through his system. Shockwave acknowledged it, made note to write it down once he finished, and continued his meticulous work, aware that his subject could feel every second of it.

#transformers #maccadam #bat writes

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writing-ro · 7 years ago

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Too Good To Refuse

Series: The High and Noble Houses of Cybertron (1/?) Rating: G for General Audiences Fandom: Transformers Prime, Transformers - All Media Types Characters: Nightingale (Cybertronian June Darby), Bluefire (Cybertronian Jack Darby), Optimus Prime Ships: Nightingale/Optimus Prime Tags: Arranged Marriage, Royalty AU, Engagement ceremonies, Robots wear clothes Also Available: AO3, Fanfiction.net, DeviantArt

Lady Nightingale gives her hand away to help her people. Could love possibly blossom from such an arranged marriage?

Nightingale read and reread the letter on the datapad before setting it down between the two others she’d received. It would be a great honor to be the bondmate of the new Prime, and a union of Lady Nightingale of the High and Noble House of Kalis with Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Iacon would ensure the security of the people of Kalis for the next several generations.

She pondered the reason for this potential union, and it all led back to the recent insurgence of the Decepticon movement. It had had not lasted long, she thanked Primus and the Thirteen for that, but of all the city states that were affected by the fighting, Kalis was one of the worse, only barely preceding Kaon, which had been razed in the hunts for the Decepticon leadership.

She still clearly remembered the morning the war had started, here in her own home city. She and her creation Bluefire had been out with some others of her court, walking the streets as ordinary citizens. While of the HIgh and Noble House, her grand-carrier on her sire’s side had been a common archivist, and her own carrier had been well-born into the entertainment guild, until she’d become alt-mode exempt and studied medicine.

It was as she and Bluefire were watching some street performers when the first bomb went off. Several of the guards had thrown themselves between the explosion and the civilians, taking the blasts and likely saving a few lives. Mechs emerged from the crowd, armed and firing wherever they wished, though several had aimed their weapons at herself and Bluefire.

The guards had ushered her and Bluefire to a safe hiding place, and they had huddled with others, nobile and civilian alike, until the Iaconian guard had come and informed them that the attackers had been thrown back. Leaving the hiding place, she nearly cried from the destruction around her. But instead, she steeled herself and ordered some guards to take Bluefire back to the palace while she herself went to the nearest medical station.

She’d used her training from her younger days, when she had been allowed to study before taking over her duties as Head of the House upon her sire, carrier and elder brother’s passings, and worked side by side with medics to save as many of her people as possible. None died under her servos, but when she returned to the palace, she’d nearly broke from the sheer number and magnitude of the injuries.

That attack was not the last Kalis suffered. Her city state was situated directly between Iacon and the Neutral Territories. As peace had been the rule almost since the Quintesson War, their armies were not built, and so they provided the easiest path to invade the Capital City. Iacon also recognized this, and Sentinel Prime had written her a missive ostentatiously asking permission to hold troops in her State. It was of course a formality, as no High and Noble house would dare refuse the Prime, and so the troops came.

Some of the harshest fighting of the war happened in Kalis. Her people’s homes, livelihoods and many families and friends were destroyed with bombs, gunshots and blades. The Prime’s Autobot forces eventually pushed the Decepticons back, but what was left in the ashes was barely able to be called land, let alone be viable for anything.

She’d done all she could for her people. She opened the palace’s lower levels for refugees, hired as many as possible into the palace’s staff, worked hours in medical centers and the camps helping in any way she could. Bluefire joined her in this, acting as a courier and a helping servo in the camps. It wasn’t until she had nearly entirely depleted the House’s treasury that she realized it would take so much more to help her people. She has taken to praying almost night and day for a solution. One of her advisors finally gave her one.

And so the announcement was made that she would exchange her servo in marriage for aid in restoring Kalis. And all she could do was wait. And wait. And wait, until the proposal was accepted.

And for the response to come from the House of Prime had astonished her. The missive had been the equivalent to a contract, with conditions for the proposal. The bonding would take place a groon from the official engagement announcement. A preliminary amount of aid was sent with the letter, but the first true payments of relief would be given the day of the announcement. Bluefire would not be in line for the traditional Primal succession, but would be able to become Lord of Kalis upon coming of age. A very reasonable, in fact a generous offer for her servo.

The other letters were responses from the High and Noble House of Tarn and the High and Royal House of Vos. Tarn would have her wed Duke Shockwave, and while they would send relief, she would have to live in the palace of Darkmount, and by Tarnish law, she wouldn’t be able to oversee her state, her bondmate would. And Shockwave had become a cold being since his face and servos had been taken by an old order. He saw the world in statistics, and her people, while they may not suffer, would not flourish under his rule.

The letter from Vos was little better. She would be wed to Winglord Solarwind’s youngest creation Starscream, and she knew she was only considered because of her seeker bloodline and how Kalis provided an access to Iacon. She had met the young prince at a festival event not long before the insurgence. He was smart and educated, but egotistical and with an ambition to prove himself better than his siblings and wingmates. A bonding between them would barely hold, and the strain of it alone would make both their lives miserable.

As she thought of it, she had never met the new Prime. His existence had been announced shortly after the start of the war, when Sentinel had been gravely injured and Alpha Trion had presented Optimus as the new heir of the Primacy. She knew he’d been at the forefront of the fighting in Kalis, but he didn’t stay in the palace like most of the generals had. But all stories and reports said he was a kind and fair mech. He stopped the razing of Kaon immediately upon taking up the Matrix, and he seemed to care about the common mecha.

Well, this arrangement wasn’t about love. It was about her people, and what was best thing for them. And this offer was too good to refuse.

With that thought, she signed her signature on the drafted letter for her future bondmate, agreeing to the contract.

“Carrier, are you sure about this?”

Nightingale turned from the servants doing her detailing to see her creation. Bluefire had her optics, but he took after his sire all the more. The same helm, his colors of dark blue and red flames, along with his silver face and details. Even their alt mode was the same, a truck against her seeker frame. He had also been decorated in silver, with all the fine symbols worthy of his position as Heir of a High and Noble House.

The years had dulled the ache, but in moments like these, she could feel the rough edges of her broken bond. The only reason she had survived the break was the fact the two of them had been blocking the bond near constantly for the past several vorn, and he had been offworld when his ship malfunctioned and was destroyed in a freak accident. And it truly was, despite some bots’ wonderings of if she’d killed him. Idiots, why would she kill her own bondmate, no matter how rough their relationship and strained the bond became.

“Yes, I am absolutely certain, Bluefire,” she told him. “Of all the courses of action available to us, this is the best for you and for our people.”

“But what about you, Carrier?” Bluefire asked. “Is this your best course of action?”

Nightingale took a deep vent and stepped over to him, placing her servos on his shoulders. “Bluefire, I know you worry about me, but in truth, my happiness does not matter. This is duty, and I am bound as the Head of our House to follow my duty.”

He vented as well. “I understand, Carrier. I will also fulfill my duty to our House.”

“Good.” She patted his shoulders. “Now, you hurry and get your last minute details done as I get mine.”

He nodded and turned, his cape flaring out behind him as he left. She turned herself back to her maid’s care, standing for them as they finished detailing the blue symbols for engagement and bonding over her servos, faceplates and chassis. They then slipped a half-skirt over her hips and matching ribbons about her wings and arms, and a long cape between her wings, which trailed behind her several feet. Silver with energon blue embroideries over it, they complemented her white, green and yellow color scheme, and were a prelude to what her bonding gown would look like. Rumor said the Prime had commissioned it from a high quality arachacon seamstress, and the fabric was so silken, Nightingale could believe it. Only the best for the Consort of the Prime.

The final piece of her appearance was a circlet of silver, with a trio of gems clustered in the front to set in the center of her helm crest. One gem was green, the Colour of Kalis; one was dark blue, the Colour of the Primacy. The third was light blue, the Colour of Sparklight and Primus, the symbol of love and light.

So ornamented, she left her chambers and made her way to one of the vestibules of the throne room. Inside the hall, all the nobles of Kalis, Iacon and the surrounding states would be waiting. Bluefire stood with her; as the highest ranked in her House, as well as the Heir, he would hand her to the Prime’s care. Two young femmes, the creations of her lady’s maids, held the train of her cape, ensuring it would not snag behind her. The Prime would be directly across from of her, in the vestibule on the other side with his own attendants.

She had the ceremony memorized. At the signal, she would enter the hall, escorted by Bluefire, as the Prime entered from the opposite side. Bluefire would take her to the center aisle, and announce that the House of Kalis willingly gave her to the House of Prime to be bonded. Then he would step away as the Prime willingly accepted the offer and her servo. He would lead her to the dias and present her to the Chief Priest of Primus, and the Chief Senator, asking if they held any objections to the betrothal.

If neither had an objection, then they would kneel, and the Senator would hold a small energon good to them, first the Prime to take a bite, then to her to finish the good. After, the Priest would anoint them with the Marks of the Betrothed on their left cheekplates and the Mark of Primus between their optics. While the rest of their finery would be removed after the ceremony, those two marks would remain, until the actual bonding, where they would be replaced by the Marks of the Bonded, which would last until they naturally faded.

She had performed this ceremony herself numerous times, standing in the Chief Senator’s place as members of her court finalized their engagements. And once, she had been in the Prime’s place, accepting Bluefire’s sire as her betrothed. The higher rank always accepted the lower, as was the rule. And now she was the lower, and would be given to the Prime.

In the time she had recalled this, her HUD alerted her that it was very close to the time of the signal. She pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked to Bluefire. His gaze met hers, and while no words were exchanged, she knew he was ready to give her away, and he was asking if she was. She wasn’t, if truth were to be told, but she would not let it show.

The signal came, a tune played by the musicians chosen for the ceremony and the doors opened, She and Bluefire stood tall and strode into the audience hall, slow enough to seem unhurried, but fast enough that it was only a few minutes later they met the Prime in the center aisle.

And he was not what she had expected. Sentinel Prime, the few times she had met him, had been so proud you could practically see it rolling off him. He was also short for a Prime, still taller than her, but not too terribly much.

But Optimus was different. He was at least a full helm taller, maybe even two. He also was more humble in his stance and field, and he walked tall, but it was almost as if his ruby red cap had weight in the end and must stand tall to keep them off the floor. His plating was decorated with the same symbols that were on her, and he wore a jeweled circlet as well, his being gold. His faceplates were stoic, but there seemed to be a hint of something in his otics. She would almost say it was kindness and gentleness, but she couldn’t observe long, for ceremony must be followed.

“Who stands here to take Lady Nightingale from the High and Noble House of Kalis,” Bluefire asked, his intonation perfected after much practice.

“I, Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime, stand to take Lady Nightingale as Consort and Bondmate, and bring her into the House of Prime.”

Oh, his voice. If Nightingale could find no other redeeming factor in the Prime after the ceremony, she would remember his voice and how divine it sounds.

“I, Bluefire, Heir to the High and Noble House of Kalis, ask of you what you will provide for Lady Nightingale in exchange for her servo and spark?”

“I will provide a home, to give her shelter. I will provide energon, to keep her fed. I will provide companionship, that she never be lonely. And I will give her my spark, that we may be one before Primus and the Law.”

“And what will you provide the House of Kalis in exchange for her servo and spark?”

“I will provide the House of Kalis with monetary support, for the sake of the people of Kalis. I will also provide a stipend to the Heir of the House of Kalis until he comes of age and takes the place as Head of his High and Noble House.”

Bluefire nodded. “The House of Kalis accepts this offering, and we give you the servo of our Lady Nightingale.” Bluefire took Nightingales right servo and held it to the Prime.

Optimus Prime bowed deeply over her servo, lightly pressing his lipplates to her backs of her digits. “It is my great honor to accept this gift, and to bring the Lady Nightingale into my House.” He raised his left servo and took hers from Bluefire’s.

Bluefire nodded and stepped away to stand at the edge of the dias. Optimus Prime then turned Nightingale and guided her up the first step of the dias, presenting her to the Chief Priest Mechalight and the Chief Senator Halogen.

“Who stands before us seeking a union?” Halogen asked.

“I, Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime, seek to make a union with the High and Noble House of Kalis, and to take the Lady Nightingale of the House of Kalis to be my Consort and Bondmate.”

Mechalight turned to Nightingale. “Do you accept this betrothal and union, Lady Nightingale of the House of Kalis?”

Formally addressed for the first time in the ceremony, Nightingale said, “I accept the betrothal and union between myself and Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime.”

Optimus looked to the Priest. “Does the Temple of Primus hold any objection to our union?”

“Primus holds no objections to this union of the House of Kalis and the House of Prime,” Mechalight said. “And as such, the Temple of Primus, holds none as well.”

Optimus bowed to the Priest, then turned to the Halogen. “Does the House of the Senators hold any objections?”

“We hold one slight concern,” Halogen said. “The Lady Nightingale has bonded once previously and borne an Heir to her House. But her Bondmate was passed into the Well of AllSparks, and we express concern over how well a new bond would take.”

Nightingale could hear some murmuring in the crowd behind her, but she and Bluefire had prepared for this.

Bluefire stepped forward. “The Lady Nightingale has been examined by many of the finest medics available. Her spark is whole and can easily form a bond and create newsparks for the lineage of the House of Prime.”

Halogen looked to Bluefire for a moment, then nodded. “The House of the Senators hold no objections to this union of the House of Kalis and the House of Primes.”

Optimus bowed to Halogen, and he and Nightingale knelt down. Halogen turned to a mechservant and took a small energon good from him. It was one half green and one half blue. He held it to show the audience, announcing “This cube represents Houses of Kalis and Prime. By accepting this good, they will accept each other’s Houses as their Houses, for good and for all.” He held the green side to Optimus’s lips. “Do you accept the House of Kalis as your own?”

“I do.” Optimus took a bite of the cube, cleanly splitting it green from blue, and chewed the bite with dignity before swallowing.

Halogen held the remains to Nightingale. “Do you accept the House of Prime as your own?”

“I do.” She took the rest of the good from him, noting briefly it was one of the best tasting goods she’d ever had.

Halogen stepped away, washing his servo in a bowl provided for him, and Mechalight stepped to stand between them. He started chanting in the Primal Vernacular, calling on Primus to bless the engagement and the future union. She knew the words, but she didn’t try to interpret them in the moment. Her mind was filled with recognizing she was officially betrothed to a mech she’d never met, and that she would be expected to bond and merge with enough to create at least one newspark. It would be nerve wracking, if she hadn’t been through this before.

Mechalight turned to a Temple Acolyte at his side and picked up a brush from the bowl they held. He turned back to the couple and stood before Nightingale, tilting her helm up. “With this brush, I mark you as betrothed, with the blessing of Primus. May he guide your spark to happiness in the bond.” He painted first the Mark of Primus, then the Mark of the Betrothed onto her faceplate.

“I thank you, High Priest Mechalight, for your blessing,” Nightingale said.

He smiled down at her, then took up his serious mantle again and went to Optimus, repeating the rite. After, he handed the brush back to his acolyte, and took Nightingale’s left servo and Optimus’s right, guiding them to rise “I present to you Lady Nightingale of the High and Noble House of Kalis and Optimus Prime of the High and Royal House of Prime, newly betrothed, and soon to bond.” He joined their servos and they turned to face the audience, who began applauding.

Nightingale kept her calm face as she looked out over the crowd, containing nobility from across Cybertron, or their representatives, if the lord or lady could not be present themselves. She found it hard to put on a smile for them, despite her knowing it was expected.

She had a notification come across her HUD. She didn’t recognize it, except for a little glyph she’d seen signed at the base of the letter sent to her from the Prime. She opened it and it was a short message, written in common glyphs as opposed to the High and Noble vernacular.

[We can pretend together.]

She was surprised, but didn’t show it as she glanced over at Optimus. He caught her gaze and his optics made her an offer. An offer to try, and nothing more.

She smiled, lifting her right arm to wave at the applauding crowd. Out of the corner of her optic, she saw him do the same. To the world, they looked like a couple happy for their engagement. Internally, they knew that they’d made a promise to not instantly hate or fall for each other, but to try and make it work best for them. It was an offer too good to refuse.

#My Fics #Too Good To Refuse #The High and Noble Houses of Cybertron #fandom: transformers

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grimaceandgrin-blog · 7 years ago

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ache

Fandom: Transformers

Character(s): Grimace (OC), Sugo (OC - mentioned)

Rated: T (Depictions of pain and past torture)

Word Count: 1,350

Sometimes there’s an incident, a prelude that gives way to it happening; Grimace gets hit in the face by something, somehow, it’s really not that uncommon with how reckless he can get. Times like that, he can predict it, ready himself for the impending night.

Other times, like this time, it just comes out of nowhere and all Grimace can do is allow for it to come.

At first there’s no outward tell that anything is wrong. He continues to operate just fine, going about his work between tidying up his cataloguing or taking a look at the maps to chart out his journey and future endeavors. But if someone were paying close attention, they’d see the ebbings of disquiet, a disturbance bleeding into his EM field; something isn’t wrong per say, but it isn’t quite right, either.

Once it’s enough that he can feel his careful front begin to break, he dismisses himself from the cabin. Grimace doesn’t say anything as he begins to feel the crawl of the ache beneath his golden mask and across his damaged faceplates. He has a certain destination in mind as each step carries him closer - the washracks.

The washracks weren’t anything grand aboard the Errancy, but they were more than capable of handling any hygiene related needs, amongst other things. Grimace walks into it’s single stall and turns the hot water on blast, not even twitching as the spray hits his frame ice cold. The shock of it is welcome, distracting from the steady throb he’s beginning to feel from the chin up. The water is warming within seconds, though, and he lets out a vent as it flows over him, his frame pinging with the temperature change.

It’s once he’s here that he pulls off his mask, the shield now feeling more suffocating than protective, and he let’s out a near-moan of relief as the water hits his uncovered face. A moment of respite as the warmth works it’s way deep into the crevices of his mangled head, the touch soothing as the sensation pulls away some of the mounting pain. It won’t last, Grimace knows, but for the moment he’ll take what he can get.

He stands there for who knows how long, processor going blank as he focuses on the droplets hitting his frame, thousands of little points of contact running down navy finish. The heat is much higher, now, nearly scalding but pleasant in it’s burn. Comforting, he thinks, nothing like the boiling sensation of his frame beginning to melt to his protoform--

All too suddenly, it’s too much, and Grimace jerks with a harsh noise as he shuts off the water, twisting the handle with enough force that it squeals in protest. He needed to stop anyway, not wanting to eat through the hot water rations; it wouldn’t be fair to Sugo. He’s venting a little harder now, and has to take a moment to center himself. Letting out a shaky sigh, he steps back and out of the stall, snagging a towel off the rack as he walks back. He hadn’t intended to linger, but he catches a flash of himself in the mirror and can’t help but stop and look.

He sees himself, a lost look in his optics - not quite here, not quite focused. He draws a step closer, and then another, until he can pick out the individual lines in his faceplates, the water that still clung to the groves of his helm. To his garish teeth. Just looking at them is enough to make him aware of the way the ache was returning full force and then some. They cross and interlock like a crocodile’s into a ghastly smile of it’s own, feeling the wetness trickle down, beginning to cool. It’s only because he can see it in his reflection that Grimace can convince himself it’s not energon leaking out of his body.

With a sense of haste, he makes short work of drying himself off.

He moves on, because there’s no sense in lingering, and Grimace leaves the washracks and walks down the short hall of the Errancy towards his berthroom. His mask remains left behind, forgotten.

Once he passes the threshold, he closes the door behind him and dims the lights. It may not be his optics hurting him, but the lower illumination seemed to help anyway. Feeling fatigue far deeper than his relatively young body should, Grimace ambles to the berth, pulling his nest of pillows around him as he gets settled for the worst of what was to come.

And come, it does; the ache in Grimace’s face continues to grow until it’s practically pulsing with intensity, radiating out and causing him to twitch occasionally. Grimace lies mostly on his back, optics closed tight as he focuses on venting slowly and steadily. He can feel an impulse to squirm, but he knows it’ll do him no good and will only serve to keep him awake longer.

On one particularly white-hot pulse of pain that wrenches a sound not unlike a sob from Grimace’s vocalizer, it feels almost as though the derma that wasn’t there was once again being stripped from his face, causing him to choke on his own energon as it trickled down his intake and exposing denta to talentedly cruel servos--

It’s when these thoughts surface that Grimace quakes quietly in the dark of his room. It wasn’t the pain that he feared, as it was far from the worst he’d gone through. It was the memories that rode on the coattails of that pain, taking it and amplifying it until it was all he could think about.

So instead, he searches for other memories. Good memories.

Seeing the openness of space on the Errancy’s maiden voyage, the stars twinkling pinpricks of light that seduced him with promise and possibility, leaving him so excited he was bursting at the seams.

The first time he’d ran into life on another planet, standing his ground as the magnificent six-legged reptilian walked right up to him, studying him just as much as Grimace was studying it, finding an enormous scaly head pressed to his chassis as he laughed with nervous joy.

Watching the sunrise over Xena-5′s horizon as he silently flew through the brisk morning air, the sky painted from navy to gold and all the shades between.

It’s with these memories that Grimace can finally quiet the phantom singing of his sensors enough to find recharge, albeit fitful, waking up more than once to reassure himself that he wasn’t strapped to a medical table in a ship of horrors, but safe and sound in his own berth.

Grimace knows it’s been cycles the final time he reawakens, and with the relief that the pain has ended. He feels the sluggishness that comes with over-sleeping as he turns onto his side, and to his surprise finds a fresh cube of energon resting on the shelf besides his berth. He notices how terribly dry his intake feels and shuffles to sit upright, reaching for the cube gingerly. With practiced ease, Grimace takes a long drink and let’s out a satisfied sigh as he leans back against the wall. Fingers running the edges of the cube thoughtfully, a surge of warmth fills his chassis. He’d have to thank Sugo later, he notes, and looks up as he takes another drink.

On the far side of his hab, there’s a shelf lined to the brim with knick knacks and souvenirs. Near the top, Grim’s optics spy a small and modest wooden box, carefully placed off to the side and out of harm’s way.

‘I didn’t have to get it out,’ he thinks to himself. ‘Not this time.’

Grimace stays in the dim light of his suite long enough to finish off the cube before getting up with a pleasant stretch. Time stops for no one, and there was a lot for him to do. With a pep in his step, Grimace bounds out into the halls of the Errancy, as if the last few hours hadn't even happened at all.

#fic #transformers oc #mun's writing

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primepredacon · 6 years ago

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Optimus swallowed thickly at his name. A king. Lovely. Gingerly, Optimus emerges from the cave, attention glued to Predaking as he skirted the mech’s reach. A slow whisper of transformation preluded the Prime assuming root mode, armor shifting uncomfortably.

“It is not mine,” he quietly informed Predaking, dropping his gaze to his open palms. “I was just passing through, myself.” His tanks ground together, a faint reminder of why, exactly, the Prime was out and about. One servo lifted, pressing lightly against his abdomen. Optimus frowned at his stomach.

“Use the cave as you wish. I have rested enough.” He had to find that energon deposit he’d scented earlier, and soon, if the warnings flashing on his HUD were any indication.

Touch meme: soft snuffling in their direction in his predacon form, many churrs and croons vocalised in a hello/who are you???

He wasn’t expecting anyone to be about. Startled from his place curled up beneath an old rockfall cave, Optimus lurched onto his belly, scruff spiking nervously before he forced it to lie flat, vents cycling faster. Cautiously, he answered with a low hum, blinking the sleepy haze from his optics as he glanced up. They landed on the massive orange and brown Predacon.

Hesitantly, Optimus extended his neck, bumping their snouts together. Softly, he answered with a low hum, imbuing it with his designational glyphs. Optimus Prime.

#predakingrising #Meeting of the Muses

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pocoslip · 1 year ago

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Is This Powerlinxing????

(i'm not getting an updated energon hot shot)

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joonisstrange · 1 year ago

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Hey! Heyhey hello 👋

So, I made some videos and uh, y'know, it'd mean a lot for more of my friendos here to check em out and...I guess tell me watcha think! ♡♡♡

youtube

I only have the two rn, I've been busy keeping content consistent on my Twitter and Tik Tok!

Thank you to those who at least gave them a look see ♡ every view matters just as much to me!

But subscribing tho 😏

#transformers #transformers armada #transformers video game #prelude to energon #youtube #youtube video #i made these!!#♡

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cinedave · 7 years ago

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REVIEW: Transformers The Last Knight - A Dark Ages Disaster

For a pessimist I’m pretty optimistic claimed Paramore. I like to think I’m that way with film sequels, especially the unwanted ones. When a bad film makes a sequel or another franchise entry it may very well be another sad affair; another film that squanders all its promises of being different for a lacklustre or downright disappointing offering.... but what if it isn’t? While any sequel of impending doom could be nothing more than salt in your wounds it’s also a chance at redemption. Every new film is a new possibility; its own fresh start. Nothing is truly beyond saving and few things in life are more rewarding than an unexpected comeback. I really thought that would be the case with this 5th Transformers offering. I really thought with their bigger cinematic universe plans, this would be the film where they set the foundations for a stronger new beginning..... I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong. Welcome to energon hell and 2017s worst film to date.

When Optimus Prime finally meets his creator, she seduces him into helping her destroy the Earth so that Cybertron can be reborn by using the Staff of Merlin. That is unless the other Autobots along with inventor Cade (Mark Wahlberg – Patriot’s Day) can find the staff first.

This film is a junkyard of trash. That’s about as polite as I can put it. It’s a nuts and bolts collection of all prior films just dumped in together hoping it will add up to value but really it just looks like a giant mess. Now you may have seen the trailers thinking it looks good (they gave me hope) but any junkyard has the odd decent looking bits for people to scavenge (and make into a trailer) yet they don’t change the overall ugly looking picture. Worse still all the major problems are the recurring issues that neither Paramount nor Michael Bay ever gives a robo-rat’s arse about while they’re Scrooge McDuck swimming through their mountains of box office takings. Biggest of all, yet again this is multiple films worth of stories pointlessly crammed into one to the point of self destruction. There are more historical shenanigans (because ret-conning the Egyptian Pyramids and Moon Landings clearly wasn’t enough) by bringing in King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table for a lot of terribly constructed pre-destined plot devices. It introduces Unicron.... in the most BS way imaginable. It picks up from Age of Extinction’s ending of Optimus going after his creators, which aren’t exactly hiding and look like they got lost on the way to a Species reboot. It tries to be an aftermath film to past conflicts with fresh human/transformer political tension and an all new stupidly named anti-Transformer task force but it’s nothing but shallow world building. It introduces tons of new characters while having no idea what to do with most of its existing robots in disguise (seriously, most just disappear for half the film). The need to accommodate all this madness means the film only rush two gears; rushing everywhere or a handbrake halt for lengthy exposition. Most of the latter is thrust upon Sir Anthony Hopkins’s Sir Edmund and they actually manage to make him look like a dick. Let that sink in for a moment... this film makes Anthony Hopkins look like a dick.

Which brings us to the film’s other grenade to the chest; the script is so bad it almost defies belief. I’m assuming that writers Art Marcum and Matt Holloway were orphans raised in foster homes by the Wu Tang Clan because they have a pathological need to make most Deceptions into painfully awful hip hop stereotypes. If you thought The Twins from Revenge of the Fallen were bad this film will lower the bar into the Mariana Trench. So much of the humour is equally despicable. For every line that gets a chuckle (and there are a few) you’ll suffer through dozens more that pathetically fail and several are even genuinely cringe worthy. Like the medieval prelude featuring Stanley Tucci making Merlin a drunken idiot that is somehow still deemed worthy to receive the film’s all powerful McGuffin. Another name on the script’s kill list the chemistry between Whalberg and new, Megan Fix/Kate Middleton hybrid co-star, Laura Haddock’s Viviane Wembly. Everything between is a very non-entertaining awkward of dire innuendoes. Haddock fairs worse as the newcomer; her plot essential character could not feel more disposable. Despite all that exposition the story is anything but logical. Instead it’s a magnet that just pulls in different elements from random directions hoping it will all stick. Many will frequently be clueless about what’s going on or why. We constantly have to be told when or how something is significant because nothing evolves naturally out of past events. And of course, for the third freakin’ film running, the story is making excuses for Megatron’s relevance (because f*** Galvatron apparently) despite the fact that he’s not the principle villain. Seriously, just let him take a film off to return as a bigger deal.

Alright let’s be fair and find some positives/shiny bits in the trash. Now of course some of the action and special effects sequences look good in isolation. There’s no shortage of technical achievement in the CG. Although much of the robot on robot action feels like more of the same there is some innovation; Most notably the ocean and underwater based sequences. More than anything else they feel like Last Knight delivering something different to the past films and also adds some gravitas to the much hyped Optimus Vs Bumblebee showdown. The baby Dinobots are cute. The product placement is not as overwhelming this time. Nobody refers to robot testicles. I think that’s it.

Not a single person on screen appears to care about anything other than their sizable guilt money paycheque (Josh Duhamel is completely checked out all film).... and to top it all off they gave Hot Rod a French accent. Even if you’re a stalwart franchise fan, seriously, do not waste your time with The Last Knight; at least not at the cinema. It’s the worst film in the franchise by a light year and raises genuine concerns over whether the franchise should continue (.... yeah right, like they’re really going to stop). This film is everything we don’t want modern science fiction to be in vaporising substance in the attempt of overpowering spectacle. I would rather binge watch Love Island than watch this film again.

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