oblivious-prime

[oblivious-prime]

Two Week Hiatus

procrastination has returned with vengeance

and unfortunately ....with a vendetta

[oblivious-prime]

[oblivious-prime]

I wish I could draw 😭

scheduled post number two (hopefully posts on the right time. Last post was successful but who knows with scheduling ...)

If anyone has any helpful suggestions to draw tfp transformer characters please let me know

⤴️ that's the general idea of what I want to draw

[oblivious-prime]

Op's Rules (psychological analysis?)

i was having a conversation with a friend and while speaking of something i have to complete, I thought of a fic idea. I've now set on drafting that idea.

(I've hopefully figured out scheduling posts properly, so let's hope this posts correctly.)

Optimus used to be Orion Pax -> His worldview was one where rules meant fairness (at least before he discovered the High-Castes wrongdoings.)

Additionally, early in the war, order and structure were how he protected people, clear chains of command, moral clarity, the illusion of strategy even when the odds were chaos.

As war stripped that away, Optimus began trying to reconstruct safety with internal rules. Not for others anymore, but for himself.

Where hierarchy and philosophy failed, numbers and rituals became his fallback.

“If I speak carefully. If I move carefully. If I plan carefully. Then maybe they won’t die.”

Never speak an odd number of words when those he loves are in danger.

Avoid mentioning his comrades names to anyone outside of his high command when possible.

Must finish any conversation (specifically the last sentence) with Ultra Magnus on an even syllable count, or he’ll dream of the dead again.

Never walk away from an injured comrade in medbay without tapping his fingers in mirrored sequence: Left-right-right-left.

If he says someone’s name, he must say it again in his mind or else it "doesn’t protect them."

Each rule has a history. Each is linked to a memory, a failure, or a death.

A coping mechanism born of grief, guilt, and loss.

He blames himself for what was never truly in his control.

Optimus Prime is a mech who takes responsibility for everything. He doesn’t make excuses. He doesn’t delegate guilt. He drowns himself quietly.

Autobots die? It was his fault for leading them.

Civilians suffer? His failure to end the war fast enough.

Megatron? Optimus wasn’t persuasive enough.

He draws links between his actions and outcomes, not because it’s rational, but because it’s the only way he can keep from drowning in uncertainty.

Optimus was forged (literally and metaphorically)to endure. To be noble. Steady. A leader that does not fall.

He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t break down in front of others. He doesn’t run from pain, he internalizes it.

But internalized pain has to go somewhere.

When you don't allow yourself to cry, rage, or grieve openly, the mind finds quieter, colder ways to express fear. Rituals. Fixations. Small rules. Thought patterns that carry the illusion of control.

He sees them as necessary safeguards. Quiet mechanisms to prevent the next catastrophe. At least, that’s what he thinks.

Optimus knows what his name means to others. He knows how many bots went into battle under his command and never returned.

And deep down, he wonders, 'Was my hope worth their lives?'

He can’t bring them back. But he can ensure their sacrifice had shape. That their loss wasn’t for nothing. Each “rule” becomes a tether to a life lost. A grim totem. A piece of meaning salvaged as remembrance.

He’s desperate to reclaim a sense of control, meaning, and moral responsibility in the face of irreversible loss (also war is traumatic).

[oblivious-prime]

New chapter - Ch 9

[oblivious-prime]

Note

I will be temporarily disappearing

[oblivious-prime]

[oblivious-prime]

Primus: This path leads only to suffering, my child. You are the last light of Cybertron, do not extinguish yourself in vengeance. Strike only when necessary. Use compassion, not chaos. However for him, all exception's work.

Unicron: Blow up Megatron, you know you want to.

Optimus is stuck in the middle, deadpan staring into the void, gripping his helm like he's got a migraine from hell.

Ratchet: "Are you talking to someone, Prime?"

Optimus: whispering with terrifying calm UNICRON and PRIMUS are telling me to commit a war crime."

Ratchet: "...WHAT?"

Meanwhile, Primus and Unicron are bickering on his like divorced parents fighting over custody.

If OP took a hit of dark energon like Megatron did what do you think would happen? Angsty internal fight to retain his personality and morals amid the corruption of Unicrons influence?

Or the correct, funny option, which is that Unicron and Primus become his cartoon shoulder angel and devil?

[oblivious-prime]

Current Fic - Optimus Archivist

Megatron keeps inviting Optimus to help him archive or translate something just so he can listen to him talk for hours about literature, history, and ancient Cybertronian poetry.

Versus Megatron’s internal monologue as he frantically texts Soundwave. “This fool is talking about cave inscriptions from before the Well of All Sparks and I want to kiss him. Help.”

Link to fic will be added once I finish drafting.

[oblivious-prime]

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

[oblivious-prime]

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

[oblivious-prime]

Grumpasaurus - Draft

The Nemesis corridors were unusually quiet.

Unusual, because Megatron had spent the last thirty-six hours terrorizing everyone with his presence. Not overtly—there had been no violence, no threats—but his fury burned cold and constant, like a power core about to rupture.

He snapped at Knock Out, growled at Breakdown, and had answered Soundwave's calm “status check” with a snarl as he exposed his dentae, "If one more of you implies I am—"moody"—I will send all of you into deep space in a CRATE.

Soundwave merely blinked. Then comes, 'Observation: You are tracking Optimus Prime’s location ping every 0.74 minutes.

Megatron had snarled yet again, "It’s a tactical habit. Old instincts. I am FINE. PERFECTLY FUNCTIONAL."

He was not functional. He was cranky. He was sleeping badly. And the berth was too damn cold.

(hint: Optimus has been gone for a three-day summit.

[oblivious-prime]

Group Chat Draft

Soundwave: Sends Image of Megatron sitting on Optimus’ lap while snarling at a datapad.

Knockout: Aww, he’s mad because Optimus cut his screen time.

Breakdown: That’s not what he’s mad about. He’s mad Optimus didn't kiss him first.

Megatron: I CAN SEE THIS CHAT!!!!

(I'm trying to make this a full chapter)

[oblivious-prime]

[oblivious-prime]

It started out innocent.

Mostly.

After the war, when meetings between Autobots and Decepticons were tense but necessary, Optimus had quietly, very quietly, invented a system.

Whenever Megatron got that look — all smug, smugger-than-he-had-any-right-to-be — Optimus’ restraint thinned dangerously.

The solution? A secret code.

"Megatron, we need to debrief in private." Translation, 'I am about to lovingly drag you to the nearest berthframe before I short-circuit in front of everybody.''

And so far... It had worked flawlessly.

Every time Optimus said those words, Megatron would stiffen slightly, optics flickering wide—then immediately nod in that "I know exactly what you mean and I am absolutely not about to die of excitement, no sir" way.

Both of them would excuse themselves with utmost dignity...

...and ten kliks later, they'd be passionately tangled together behind a locked door somewhere.

Today was no different.

They were sitting in a joint peace council meeting, the chamber stiflingly hot, tension so thick it could have been used to patch hull breaches.

Megatron was lounging in his chair, sprawled, arrogant, looking far too pretty for Optimus’ nerves to endure.

Every smirk, every lazy stretch of his frame across the armrests... it was unbearable.

Optimus’ servo twitched against the datapad in his lap.

He cleared his intake quietly. Leaned over. And in a low, unbearably polite voice murmured, "Megatron, we need to debrief in private."

Megatron jolted like he’d been struck by lightning.

Starscream, halfway through a smug speech about Energon rations, barely glanced up.

"Of course," Megatron said stiffly, rising from his chair with textbook nonchalance.

Optimus followed, offering a tight nod to the others.

"Pardon us. Important discussion."

No one batted an optic. Business as usual.

The door slid shut behind them with a satisfying hiss.

Outside, in the empty hallway...

The second they were alone, Megatron whirled on him, optics bright.

"You unbelievable menace," he hissed, visibly fighting a grin. "You couldn’t wait until after the meeting?"

Optimus smiled sheepishly, venting slowly to calm himself.

"You were distracting," he said simply. "It felt... urgent."

Megatron opened his mouth—probably to say something scathing—and instead let out a tiny squeak when Optimus took his hand.

Not dragging. Not rough.

Just gently entwining their fingers, tugging Megatron along with soft, coaxing touches as they briskly, inconspicuously disappeared down the hall.

They passed a few low-ranked Vehicons and Autobots.

No one noticed anything strange. Just two leaders—walking quickly, whispering, looking very serious.

Totally normal.

Totally not two mechs about to find the nearest locked storage room and “debrief” so thoroughly the walls would need to be sanitized.

Megatron pressed his back to the closed door, vents already hitching.

Optimus stood in front of him, helm bowed shyly, huge hands resting hesitantly on Megatron’s hips.

"You’re sure this isn’t... disruptive?" Optimus murmured, cheeks heating with embarrassment. "We can stop if you—"

"If you stop now," Megatron rasped, gripping his arms tightly, "I will throw you onto the floor myself."

Optimus made a soft, pleased sound, venting warmly against Megatron’s neck cables.

"You’re very beautiful when you’re impatient," he mumbled sweetly.

Megatron’s vents hitched.

Then, with the gentlest possible touch for someone his size, Optimus scooped Megatron into his arms, cradling him like a treasure—like he weighed nothing—and carried him carefully to the makeshift berth stacked against the wall.

Megatron made a scandalized noise, half-heartedly pounding his fists against Optimus’ chest.

"Put me down properly, you ridiculous—"

"No," Optimus whispered against his audio, utterly earnest. "You’re precious."

Megatron’s whole frame shuddered, armor flushing a light purple at the edges.

And when Optimus laid him down and kissed him — slow, reverent, careful — Megatron forgot entirely about pouting.

He melted under every careful touch, every quiet, worshipful whisper against his plating. Leaning into the sugar sweet adoration with a joy he would not yet admit.

Back to the meeting a few hours later.

Optimus entered first, datapad in hand, helm dutifully bowed.

Megatron followed, looking absolutely glowing and a smirk tugging at his lips.

Starscream glanced up, suspicious.

"...You missed the entire second budget report," he sneered.

Megatron sniffed loftily. "We were discussing matters of critical importance."

Starscream narrowed his optics.

Meanwhile, Ratchet leaned toward Ironhide and muttered under his breath, "How much you wanna bet 'debriefing' means something completely inappropriate?"

Later, in their quarters.

Optimus shyly bumped their shoulders together, cheeks glowing with quiet pride.

"Did I do okay?" he mumbled bashfully.

Megatron grunted, pulling him down into a languid kiss.

"You’re perfect," he whispered.

And Optimus, relieved and delighted, immediately started plotting when he could "debrief" Megatron again.

Maybe tomorrow.

Or maybe right now.

--

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65052856/chapters/167277712

Codephrase Choices

[oblivious-prime]

MegOp Stories

The winner of the last AU poll was an arranged marriage AU. Info about winning au. https://www.tumblr.com/oblivious-prime-opmeg-au/781317548414205952/note?source=share

Scroll below the poll and it will explain each numbered option in a sentence or so.

- A post-war peace treaty requires Optimus and Megatron to live together for one whole month as a symbolic show of unity. They agree to live together for mutual benefits post war. (Both agree and claim it's for beneficial reasons such as being able to easily talk about serious faction matters quickly, conserves time, etc.. they really just both like each other.)

- During a Decepticon high council meeting, Starscream mocks Megatron for being single. In a fit of rage, Megatron blurts out that he does have a partner, a conjux—Optimus, and throws the table at the offending mech. Problem? They’re not even dating, let alone fragging married.

They're both "reluctant Cybertronian royalty" and are forced into an arranged marriage to save their houses. Megatron plans to murder his way out. Optimus plans to nobly suffer through it. Neither expects to be absurdly thirsty for each other after the first five minutes.

- A mishap in Shockwave’s lab flings Megatron into a possible future. Megatron accidentally time travels and sees a future where he's married to Optimus.

After an accident involving a malfunctioning Space Bridge, Optimus and Megatron switch bodies. They’re horrible at pretending to be each other. Starscream immediately knows something’s wrong when "Megatron" smiles and says "please." Meanwhile, the Autobots grow suspicious when "Optimus" threatens to punt a High-Caste into the sun.

Somehow Optimus and Megatron get temporarily sparkling-ified. Now they're tiny, adorablr, and clinging to each other. The Autobots and Decepticons have to form a truce to babysit them while baby Optimus aggressively headbutts anyone who touches baby Megatron. Surprisingly Megatron is the epitome of sweetness while Optimus is a gremlin sparkling.

A sparkling from the future shows up ...and calls Megatron and Optimus their parents. They're horrified. Everyone else is thrilled. Ratchet and Soundwave name themselves honorary uncles. Shockwave wants to study the sparkling. Bumblebee sets up a "Baby Watch" committee.

Cybertron’s new peace agreement includes a dating app to encourage unity. Optimus and Megatron both sign up under fake names. They match instantly. They keep flirting online anonymously...while absolutely hating each other in real life. Until they agree to meet up.

[oblivious-prime]

Draft: The Matrix Meddles

Chapter ?: “You Poor, Single Aft”

Peace was supposed to be quiet.

Not easy—but quiet.

Instead, Optimus stood in the center of the High Council chamber, optics dim with exhaustion, surrounded by squabbling diplomats and far too much polished stone. He kept his expression neutral, his shoulders squared.

The Matrix, nestled within his chest, pulsed.

Warmth spread through his spark—sudden, sharp, and intense.

He froze.

A powerful wave of longing rolled through his core, unfamiliar and dizzying. A vision bloomed behind his optics unbidden. —hands cupping a face —foreheads pressed together —a kiss that made the world still

Optimus inhaled sharply.

To his right, Ratchet gave him a concerned glance. “Headache?”

“…No,” he said quickly. “The Matrix is… active today.”

Ratchet stared. “Active as in ‘wisdom of the ancients’ or active as in… well—you’re blushing.”

“I am not—” Optimus stopped himself. Recalibrated. Lowered his voice. “I am simply… warm.”

Ratchet did not look convinced.

Across the chamber, the diplomats debated the stability of Kaon’s outer bridges. Optimus tried to listen—he truly did—but then another wave hit him. This time, it came not as heat but a heartbeat. Not his. Someone else’s. Deep, slow. A familiar rhythm.

His optics flicked up—unthinkingly—searching for the source.

And found Megatron.

The ex-warlord stood in the far corner, arms folded, posture stiff and proud, optics flicking over the chamber like a bored cat sizing up lesser beings. The light caught along the silver of his plating. His scowl was… elegant. Unmoving.

The Matrix surged.

Another image. —Megatron, laughing, hand resting on Optimus’ chest —Megatron asleep, curled beside him —Megatron in a flowing silver cape, walking down an aisle of light—toward him

Optimus’s field jolted. He staggered.

Megatron’s head turned sharply, optics narrowing.

“…Is something wrong, Prime?”

Optimus scrambled for composure. “No,” he managed, voice thick. “Everything is… functioning.”

Megatron looked him over with that intense gaze that made Optimus feel picked apart, examined down to his smallest screws.

“You were staring,” Megatron said slowly.

“Was I?” Optimus asked too quickly. “I wasn’t. I was looking—past you.”

“There’s no one behind me.”

“Ah.” Optimus’s hands twitched. “So there isn’t.”

Ratchet leaned closer. “Do I need to drag you to medbay?”

“No,” Optimus said a little too fast.

The Matrix pulsed again, hotter this time—almost desperate. Longing coiled in his spark, visceral and aching. Not just his. It felt like someone else’s, too. Someone hollow. Waiting.

His optics drifted back to Megatron.

Megatron was staring again, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Suspicion and… confusion?

Another image burst behind Optimus’s optics. —his own hand brushing the side of Megatron’s face —Megatron’s lips parting in surprise, leaning in —the feeling of something clicking into place, finally, completely—

Optimus forced a breath. “We should revisit the Kaon bridge plans later.”

One of the diplomats looked up in confusion. “But we haven’t finished—”

Megatron’s voice cut in, low and sharp. “Kaon is mine. You do not reroute anything without my explicit approval.”

The Matrix responded instantly.

A final image—this one hazy but heavy with feeling—Megatron curled against his side, breath soft, whispering something into his chest.

Optimus didn’t hear the words. But his spark clenched like it already knew them.

He blinked hard. “Meeting adjourned.”

And walked out—face calm, expression unreadable.

Even as his spark roared.

--

The matrix ships it and has begun actively trying to do something.