#Newspark Within

[wilfre-the-medical-bot]

She snuck into the Autobot base and tried her best to avoid getting caught as she found it difficult to do so with the large gift basket she was holding. Singularity knew that her friend Wilfre was going to give birth to his sparkling soon and she wanted to help him anyway she could. Even if she decided to go on a shopping spree for sparkling and charrier items. She didn’t spare any expense and got the best of everything on the market for Wilfre and his soon to be new born.

Singularity finally made it to Wilfre’s medbay as she looked around to make sure no one was there. “Thank Primus I made this because this damn thing is heavy as frag.”

-wereseekersfeartotread

*He walks into the medbay, humming quietly to himself, a Datapad in his servos. Every once in a while, his Sparkchamber glows faintly. He currently doesn't notice Singularity, optics flicking over the Datapad*

(@whereseekersfeartotread )

[crispy-art-on-fire]

TFA Cybertronian Sexual Reproduction

A speculative biology infodump by me because I think way too much about these stuff and might have had a fixation on reproduction in one point in time.

CW for discussions around reproduction, infertility, miscarriage, and alien biology. Dead dove do not eat essentially.

Cybetronians aren't a species that sexual reproduction comes easy, with every stage of conception there is high risk that a pregnancy will not come to pass and such asexual reproduction is preferred in most cases.

First of all a Cybetronian has one reproductive system, they have their transfluid tank, a transfluid tank for doners, a gestational chamber, a forge, and then a valve and spike. Spike is where the transfluid exits through ejaculation while valve intakes transfluid, during a pregnancy the spike will be disabled. The gestational chamber is where everything is connected together and where the sparkling will develop.

Infertility can occur when Cybetronian's own transfluid tank dries up or if they were born lacking parts of their array. To prevent pregnancy the easiest way is to expel a doner's transfluid after copulation but other ways are to medically put in a block on the transfluid tanks, or to cut off the connection point between them and the gestational chamber.

Conception of a sparkling occurs as a chemical reaction between carrier and sire(s) transfluid within the gestational chamber with the resulting energy makes a spark. This can be detected through heat cameras. To increase chance of conception spark merging and overloading is recommended to increase the energy produced. The resulting spark will then attach to the carrier's own and begin siphoning energy from it. In the early stages the newspark is very fragile and has a high likelihood of being reabsorbed or snuffed out.

Impacts on the carrier is typically decreased energy and spark pain, which can be lightened by a spark merge as the doner gives their energy to the newspark as well. A newspark can also attach to the doner's spark but this is highly discouraged since it has a high risk of spontaneous abortion, usually this procedure is done as a last ditch effort if the original carrier is dying.

When the newspark has stabilized it will drop down into the gestational chamber where it will start to develop its protoform. Lack of transfluid at this stage can lead to developmental abnormalities or stillbirth as the transfluid is what the sparkling is kept in and also informs of its frame is developed. The carrier at this point will develop cravings and appetite for various metals and minerals. These go into a special track down the throat into a forge where they are melted down into what one calls a protoform- a highly impressionable soft metal. Some of the leftover metal will also be used to transform the carrier's frame to leave room inside for the developing sparkling, usually gaining width and weight as the frame is reinforced to carry the additional weight.

Their structure will also change in accordance to frame type; war-frames gains hardened metal exterior while civilian-frames "crumbles" under high impact while avoiding major damage to the sparkling and carrier. This has lead to the impression Decepticon carriers are neigh unstoppable while Autobot carriers are excessively fragile, an false impression used by either side to protect their respective carrier. Autobot carriers having the ability to "play dead" (grey out their frame) until they feel safe while Decepticon carriers are encouraged to be highly aggressive.

When the sparkling is ready to emerge the carrier programming will encourage the carrier to find a safe spot with soft bedding before their abdominal plating and gestational chamber opens up to expel the sparkling. Clean up the little thing off from the transfluid and voila, you have your bitlet.

After the birth the carrier will begin to 'molt' their excess metal, eating it to melt it down and then feed it to the growing bitlet, something sires can do as well. Most importantly the sparkling will need lots of fuel and contact to develop properly as it will absorb the rest of its programming from its caretakers.

[witchofthesouls]

Imagine, very premature newsparks not only being smaller with less defined features, but their protoform hasn't fully settled yet.

They're so soft and squishy that their protoform actually ripples and warps when another mecha interacts with them. Although they retain their basic shape, they're incredibly fragile at this stage since they lack any kind of protective measures: barely able to make noise, incapable of thermoregulation, and definitely needs a specialized nutritional slurry to be 'fed' via a different kind of incubator as they absorb through full body contact as their oral reflexes (rooting, sucking, and swallowing) are very weak since their needs were addressed by the connective tentrils within the gestational chamber, so the relfexes hadn't have enough time to develop like a full-term carriage. They have better health outcomes and developmental progressing with kangaroo care.

[tinydefector]

Was wondering if you could do some earth spark Megatron x reader, there isn't alot of them and I'd love to see what you could come up with.

The Malto's Neighbour

Megatron x human

Warning: none.

Wordcount: 1.6k

Megatron masterlist

Really hope you guys like this, and woo first piece for earthspark since I've started watching the series. Hope you guys enjoy the chaos which is to come.

________________________

The Malto's property is a busy one, Twitch yelling at the others as they practise. "Keep up slow poke Twitch's madly zips between the hay bales strewn across the yard, chassis buzzing with energy. "Gotta be faster than that, Jawbreaker!" She shouted gleefully, panels flared and fans roaring. 

Hashtag revved her engine competitively, darting around the yard in tight circles as she sought an opening to knock Thrust off his pedes laughter echoing from all of them. Nearby, Nightshade sculpted away as they planned out new projects. 

Dot smiles as she watches her kids run around the yard, and back and forth from the barn. "Play nice you lot!" She calls out while finishing her coffee. The sound of  propellers alerts her to Megatron's arrival. She looks out the other side of the widow with a smile as Megatron touches down. "Megs wasn't expecting to see you today" she calls out while walking out to meet him.

His optics scans the surrounding farmland, ensuring all remains secure within guarded borders, before his powerful lip components peel back in a fierce yet weary grin. "And risk missing the sparklings?" he retorts, striding over rust coloured soil towards the porch Dorothy stood on. 

His field pulses warmth upon seeing his friend, soaking in her calming company. “It is good to see you Dorothy” A gruff hum rumbles his massive frame, relaxing further.

"so optimus, has you playing babysitter today?" She asked with a smirk, trying to ruffle his plating. A scoffing snort bellows from Megatron's vents at the insinuation of playing nursemaid.

Twitch's laughter makes Megatron look up to watch as she flies around with Mo before their eyes and optics land on the ex-warlord. "Hi Mr Megatron!" A collection of voices call out, Dot laughs at her kids. "Believe it or not they seem to enjoy having you around, think they like you better than OP '' she states smugly. A rare soft chuckle rumbles from Megatron's frame. "Well if the Prime cannot appease youthful tastes, it seems his title means less than once assumed," he replies loftily, it earns him a small slap to his plating from Dorothy. 

Beside him, her own amusement rings sweet as Terran continues with their Shenanigans. Megatron's optics glint fondly. He didn't know how to voice his appreciation to the soldier turned ranger, she trusted him so willingly with her family and he would forever be thankful for that.  

Dot walks towards her work vehicle. "You gonna be alright dealing with all of them by yourself?. Alex shouldn't be far away" she replies while getting into the driver's seat and ready to head off to work. 

"Twitch Not fair only you and Nightshade can fly!" Hashtag calls out.

 

"Too bad bozo should have picked a better alt mode instead of a Ghost Van '' Twitch calls back as she takes off with their basketball before throwing in through the hoop.

This handful of newsparks posed no threat whatsoever, and he'd make sure they were protected while she was away.

"Worry not, I shall keep them entertained and out of trouble until your return" he rumbles, His massive frame shifts casually aside as Dot's vehicle rumbles past, optics following until taillights fade into rural tree line. Massive peds crunch soil as Megatron straightens, surveying once more. 

It's only once the kids mother has left do they go about doing their own things. 

Nightshade and Hashtag with little projects together. “Can you give me a tutorial on renovating?” Nightshade ask Hashtag as the two work away 

Jawbreaker finds himself sitting beside Megatron with Mo sitting in his lap. “But I never thought you had a grounded alt” Jawbreaker states while watching the ex Decepticon. “Much has changed since my time on cybertron and even while here on earth.” He starts. “I was once a miner, my Alt was that of a Mining Drill, it's only as of recently I've taken an alt mode of a flying type” he replies, a sad smile on his lips as he remembers. He's broken out of his memory when Twitch flies back in a panic. 

"There is someone on the property!, they didn't see me but i didn't stick around to get seen" She states and it makes all the young ones tense up. 

"You don't think it's GHOST again?" 

"It could be the neighbour!" Robbie states trying to calm everyone.

"Show me," he rumbles curtly to Twitch, striding toward the perimeter of the woodlands. His engine rumbles a warning growl. "Remain here. Stay out of sight, Little bird stay in drone mode in case it is GHOST."  The young terrans all retreat back into the barn watching. The wind whispers against his armour as he and Twitch move through the woods, Twitch stays close to Megatron's side hovering as they slowly scan the area. 

A loud whistle leaves a human as they move throughout the woodlands. "Bluey!" They call out while looking through the woods. "Blue! Come on!" They call before their eyes catch movements, they huff to themself moving closer hoping to find their dog. 

As they turn down another track they freeze when Scarlet optics linger on them, their body goes into fight or flight mode but instead of either they sand frozen to the spot hoping they hadn't been seen. Megatron freezes as well, optics narrowing to analyse the stranger before him. No weapon was drawn, but their presence alone was alarming. A low menacing growl rumbles leaves his intake, Twitch hovers over his shoulder plate quick to hide behind his back as she transformers, ember optics watching the human from behind Megatron as she clings to the large Mech. 

"Explain your business here, human," he demands. "You trespass" Twitch's faint glow flickers beside him, awaiting the answer that could mean swift action, depending on what the human said would decide how quickly she would fly back to the barn.

They fall to the ground moving backwards quickly. "BLUE!!" They shout loudly. The sound of heavy footsteps crunching against branches, leaf litter and rocks follow before a large cybernetic Dog stands in front of the human growling at Megatron. Its ears are pinned back as it barks loudly at the large Mech, guarding their human. 

Twitch's optics widen in shock. “No way you have a Robodog!” she squeals out in delight only for Megatron to make sure she stays behind him. 

 Megatron's optics narrow as he watches the Metal dog and vice versa. Bright blue optics watch his every move, the creature looked like a merge of cybertronian tech yet at the same time his scans said it was something different.

"Explain," he rumbles again, optics narrowing upon the trespassers. Loyalty to one's charge he respected, if nothing else. But his main concern was his charges and their safety. More footfall alerts Megatron to one of the children running towards them. Robbie pants as he catches up to Megatron, his eyes going wide when he sees his neighbour. “DON'T BLAST OUT NEIGHBOUR!" He yells loudly.

 

"You know them?" he asked Robbie who nodded. "Yea they leave across the woods, their another one of my Parents friend's!" He states only to flinch as the cyberdog sniffs him. its ears perk up and whines at the young man waiting for a pat. "Robbie?" The other human calls out in shock.

“Um Hey!, sorry about him” Robbie says sheepishly while patting the dog's face. "Um... when did you get a robot dog?" He asked his neighbour, they let out a groan as they continued laying on the ground. Crimson optics scan the pair, A rumbling purr vibrates his massive chassis, posture shifting from confrontational to watchful. "You seem acquainted. Explain yourselves further - why have these 'neighbours' not been introduced before now?" He asked Robbie. 

The young man turns back to Megatron. "Because the terrans are hiding from GHOST, Megatron," He states, but the shock of reality finally kicks in after he says those words. "We are all gonna be in deep shit when mom gets home," he says in a panic. Twitch perks up. "Ohhhhh, Robbie said a bad word! I'm telling mom!!" She shouts while flying out from behind Megatron's shoulder.

"Troubles abound it seems," he finally replies, his tone modulated into something approaching conciliatory. "Explanations are due. But not here, it isn't safe out here." Crimson optics scan the forest shadows. 

That's how they end up sitting in the Kitchen of the Malto's house with both Robbie and Mo, along with the Terrans watching them from windows and Megatron sitting on the ground beside the house watching. They slowly sip on their drink as the kids look at them with worry. "You're not going to tell anyone about the bots right?" Mo asked.

"What!, no, no! That would put Blue in more danger, I'm out here hiding him for the Government" they state. It makes all the terrans relax before questions fly about themself and their cyberdog. 

Megatron scans Blue appraisingly where the cyber-hound lies on the Doorstep near his Pede. He had never seen anything like this creature. He had his run in with turbofoxs and other creatures like on cybertron, but this one almost reminded him of Ravage in how protective they were of their human.

A sigh vents softly from Megatron's frame, he reaches out slowly running a servos over the dog's back which makes the mutt huff, before it rolls over in delight, soft chafing noises leave them. 

It's only when Alex returns that he realises something is up. "Kids... what's going on?" He asked his children. The older of the collect waves. "Um Hey Alex, you might wanna sit down" they call out to him. He nearly drops his shopping bags when he sees the Metallic Dog.

Enjoy the Art of Blue.

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[lets-try-some-writing]

Innocent Abominations

Optimus can feel it, he can feel the twisted nature of the Terrans. Logically he knows they are good, they are kind and wonderful sparklings who need only love and guidance to grow. But Primus... the Matrix screams that they. Must. Die.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

They were a dying race, that much was clear. The youngest amongst them was Bumblebee, and he had not even lived to see the height of Cybertron's glory. He was forged during the war and only knew its wrath. Such was their reality, where their youngest had been in existence for millennia. Without the Allspark, their people were doomed to extinction, a slow and agonizing end to a species that once dominated their corner of the galaxy and forged wonders greater than any others of their time.

As such, the enframing of newsparks should have been cause for increadible celebration... and yet, as Optimus looked upon the two sparklings that were bound to the human spawn born of Dorothy, he found himself conflicted. His spark sang with joy at the revelation of new life, regardless of its Earthly origin. The Terrans were forged on Earth, but all their scans showed they were most certainly Cybertronian down to the core of their CNA. The bonds they held with the humans were unusual, along with their ability to live without energon to fuel them, however aside from those oddities, they were normal. Twitch and Thrash were wonderfully innocent, both so very kind and untainted by the curse of war.

The parts of Optimus that remained Orion demanded he spend time with the new little lives that frolicked around him. However as he looked upon them, another part of his being, the places where the Matrix dug into his spark... they revolted in disgust. The Terrans were to the part of him that was changed to be a Prime, a disgrace, a taint, a threat. The Matrix prodded, it made its demands, and while it seemed hesitant, it grew adamant as it urged him onward, pushing him to draw his axe and end the sparklings before they could grow and become and anathema worthy of note. His nature from his time as Orion screamed in outrage at that idea, and thus, Optimus found himself forever at war with himself.

Twitch was such an excitable sparkling, so eager to learn and willing to mature. She would become a fantastic leader and a wise teacher given time. Thrash was similarly enthusiastic, but he was calmer, more inclined toward the calmer things in life, at least that is what Optimus predicted should the sparkling be given time. They were young, and while they learned much from humanity, they needed to recall their origins, to know their progenitor race. That was what the parts of Orion preached. At the same time, the Matrix grew increasingly upset the more he spoke with the Terrans, its anger and primal disgust growing more with every interaction. He needed to keep them safe, but he could not be near them, not while he was so volatile.

Thus, he gave the sparklings Bumblebee to be their teacher, and for their own safety, Optimus left. He threw himself into his work, unwilling to interact with the little Terrans for fear of the Matrix's anger growing hotter. He could sense them, every moment of every cycle... their presence on Earth forever lingering at the back of his processors for reasons he could not decipher. Why did the Matrix despise them? He did not know, the relic within him offered no answers. Still he tried to be there for the Terrans as much as he could by hiding them from G.H.O.S.T and periodically prodding Megatron until he would go visit them.

His careful time away ensured that the odd times he interacted with Thrash and Twitch, he remained composed. Combat protocols still ran beneath his plating, screaming and demanding activation, but it was manageable. He could still smile and offer the two Terrans words of wisdom and small amounts of affection. But touch? His whole being blanched when the Terrans came too near. He tried to keep Megatron and Bumblebee between him and the Terrans whenever possible. He couldn't be trusted around them, not when he was so very torn. Megatron found his behavior odd and questioned him a time or two, but usually Optimus's excuses worked and he was able to slip away without too much suspicion.

He could handle it. Just so long as the Terrans stayed a safe distance away, he could pretend, he could maintain a smile and not be drowned in the all encompassing desire to see them obliterated. Never more did he wish Ratchet were with him, or even a medic like First Aid or Ambulon. Someone, anyone, he just needed an explanation, or some sort of reason as to why he felt the way he did. The Matrix offered no answers despite the fact that his desire to raise young directly conflicted with its disgust toward the new sparklings. He knew no one would understand, he knew none would have an answer, and so he continued keeping to himself, doing everything in his power to destroy the pinpricks of primal hatred that constantly rattled his being.

Bumblebee: The Terrans are progressing well in their training. They have trouble focusing, and I admit that it is very irritating, but for their age, they are performing well.

Optimus: That is good to hear.

Bumblebee: I haven't seen you in a while Optimus, and I am sure the Terrans would love to hear from you again. They haven't seen you since the incident with Soundwave.

Optimus: No. I cannot do that. I cannot be near them.

Bumblebee: What? Optimus is something wrong?

Optimus: No, nothing that should concern you... just keep working with the Terrans. I will do my best to convince Megatron to visit in my stead. He is better acquainted with the Terrans anyway.

Bumblebee: But Sir-!

Optimus: Thank you for giving me your report Bumblebee. I hope to hear again from you soon.

It was hard enough keeping suspicion off him with just two Terrans constantly leaving his plating itching and some part of his being shifting unsettlingly. But then three more had to be forged, three more blessings that had Optimus's spark screaming in agony as his natures combatted. He had to grit his denta and clamp his field down tight enough to ache as he greeted the newsparks and learned their designations while planning for their attack against Mandroid. The humans didn't know. They didn't know what lurked amongst them. Neither did his fellows. They couldn't see, they couldn't sense the Terrans for what they were.

À̷̡̢̛̖̼͈̑̐̓́b̵̖͕͖͒̈̓́̌̚ớ̴̧̧̤̻̝͓͎̰̥̙̟͈͗͂̈́̄̀̈́͐̒ͅm̷̖̹͗̀̅͑̐͂i̷̤̗̰̳̞̜̦͕̲̐͋̑͜n̴̡̹̹̯̫̪̥̫̗̗͐̑̿͛̍̌̀́̑͆̕͝ͅä̸̧̦͖́̈̀̋t̷͎̱̠̻̰͇̹̱̫̓̈́̾̃́̀̈́͊̈̓͊̐͋i̸͇͙̮͚̪̽̓̀̊̉͑͒͐͋͒͂͘͜͠ŏ̴̱͍̳͇͕̮̠̞͈ͅṉ̶̤̺͇̼̠̳͉̘̟͚̜͑̔͋̏̿̓͑͌̿̄s̶̛͕̹̙̻̈́̒̉́̎̿̓̃̀͒̓͘. Ḯ̶̬͍̬͖͎̪͈̄̈̈̆͂̋̐͑̈́́͠ṇ̴͎͎̪̤͔̮͎͈͉̪̘́̃n̵̦͑̚̕͝ō̷̧̘͉͍͚̬̗̊̊͒̇̀́͝ͅc̶̛͙̰̳̮͕̃̉̀̾̂̇́̿̾̑́̌͂̾ȩ̵̡̛̝̻̺̜̰̮̪͈̠͙̖̀̋̐̉͜͜n̵̢͓͙̪̪̯̪̠̰̪̦̳̈̾͂̍͌̈͋͝͝ͅt̵̢̬͍͔͉̥͉͓͕̲̥͙̟̀ ̷͉͍̺̑́́̈́̓͜m̴̢̢͚̹̥̝̘̪̟̀ǫ̸͕̣̪̗͙̗͎̝̞̠͌̅͌̓͌̄̀̏̆́͑̅͋̏̚ͅǹ̷̨͍͈̱̄̿̎͂̍̓ͅs̵̛̯̆͛͊̽͒̋̑͂͆̌̔̅̚͠t̶̟͔̼̖̜̺̲̬̩͖̺͍̦̊́͊ẽ̸̬̻̯̫͙͕̞̱͋͗̀͋̔̈́̀̈́̊̀͘͘͜͝ŗ̶̯͔̩͇͂̄̂̈́̈́̄͒̎͊́̕̚̚͠͝ṣ̷̬̘̰̠̹̔̌̄͗̎̈́͗͑̈́͘.̴̡̤̻̲̗͔̋ͅ

His optics locked onto Hashtag as she walked, scanning her endlessly for weaknesses. His audials forever perked as he observed Jawbreaker, primed and ready to find the slightest hint of aggression. His axe burned within its compartment as he watched Nightshade frolic with joy, innocently pleased to be alive. Combat protocols itched with such intensity that he had to dig his digits into his own plating with ever leap into the air Twitch took. And he had to clamp his field down so harshly ever time Thrash even looked in his direction that he could tell Megatron knew something was wrong. He wanted, no, he NEEDED to end this threat. The vermin were spreading, their taint growing as they spawned more of their number. The humans were unwitting hosts, housing parasites that were going to devour them.

The taint was spreading, and the parts of him that remained Orion could no longer fight against the Matrix's truth. All that kept him from killing the Terrans right then and there was the more heretical threat in the form of mandroid. The Terrans managed to live a day longer and it was entirely because Megatron noted his barely contained bloodlust and sent them away.

Megatron took him back to headquarters and tried to prod. But Optimus said nothing, merely twitching every now and then as he retreated to his quarters. It BURNED. His plating itched every moment of every cycle he tried to keep himself composed. Any word of the Terrans nearly had him flinging himself into a rage. The Matrix ordered that they must die. While that which remained of Orion screamed in denial and desperation, it meant nothing against the all encompassing pinpricks that ran across his frame at all hours. It took time, but the desire only grew worse. With his last bout of empathy for the little things, he reached out to Megatron with a simple order.

Optimus: You must guard the Terrans, Megatron.

Megatron: Optimus, what's going on with you? You've been off since the moment the Terrans were forged.

Optimus: If you wish for those things to continue living, you must watch them, protect them, keep them away from ME.

Megatron: Optimus-

Optimus: It burns and aches, the Matrix has made its demand. I cannot keep it contained. Those things... those innocent little abominations... I cannot be near them.

Megatron: What in Primus's name has gotten into you? What has that relic done?

Optimus: Those things... the Terrans... it hates them, it despises them. It wishes them DEAD. If you care for them, do not let our paths cross. They will not leave my grasp unharmed next we meet.

Megatron: This isn't like you. I've never seen you like this before Optimus. Whatever this is, we can deal with it. It would be difficult, but Shockwave or Starscream may have knowledge of where our medics are.

Optimus: I am out of time Megatron. They are not like us, they are tainted. I will kill them the next time they are near. Do not let them near me. Do not make me kill those sparklings.

Megatron was shocked, but he listened. He did what he could to help by taking over reports from Bumblebee and taking up residence with the Malto family for their own safety. The Maltos were rightfully concerned, especially when Megatron began to forbid the Terrans from wandering without his supervision. They didn't understand, and if possible, Megatron intended to keep it that way. Bumblebee was quickly brought into the loop and together they kept dutiful watch, always tracking the Terrans and even getting Arcee and Elita involved in tender to the Terrans when possible.

The threat was growing, and they could sense it as a new presence made itself known night after night not long after they set their watch.

Optimus tried to stay away. He tried to keep calm. He TRIED to ignore the call. But nightmares haunted his every recharge cycles, visions of the Unmaker sending force an army of his spawn... his Terran abominations. His whole frame burned and agony assaulted his spark as the Matrix pulsed, sending shocks through his body as it demanded action. It showed him visions over and over again, causing Optimus to hide in his quarters as much as physically possible for the sake of his fellows. It meant little though when G.H.O.S.T began to make their moves and Optimus found himself creeping out of his quarters in the dead of night.

The call was too strong. He could not stop himself as night after night he tread silently through the forest, taking care to keep himself out of sight as he approached the Malto home. He did not wish to harm the humans, no, he merely needed to remove the parasites. He stayed at the edge of the tree line, watching, waiting, preparing himself for an opportunity to snatch away one of the abominations and destroy it. But he could not act, he could not move, not while Megatron and Bumblebee kept their optics locked onto him at the edge of the forest every night, ensuring he remained at bay. The Matrix would not stand for him harming his own. No... just the Terrans, just the abominations needed to be removed.

It became endless habit for him to stalk the edges of the woods around the Malto home, his gaze locked onto where the Terrans rested. Periodically he would try to step out, to make progress and come nearer, but Megatron and Bumblebee were dutiful. The moment their gazes locked onto him, he hurried back into the forest, waiting for an opportunity. It helped to be on the hunt, it caused the burning to fade as duty settled instead. But even that grew to be insufficient with time. He needed to eliminate the threat, there was no other option. And so slowly but surely over the course of weeks, he came nearer and nearer before allowing himself to retreat in response to Megatron and Bumblebee raising their weapons in his direction.

Nearer and nearer, bit by bit. Soon he would have his chance. Soon he could put an end to the threat. Soon... Soon...

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[merlinfromberlin]

Numb Little Bug - Chapter 1

I haven't shared an new story/story updates here for a while, but I did something and I like it.

Summary:

The feeling was already there when it became aware of life for the first time. It was eternally graceful and wise. The feeling would still be there long after its awareness of life had faded for the last time. It was eternally graceful and cruel. Or: When Primus created a newspark to save the life of its Prime, he did not expect his little puppet to survive its first mission. However, when the sparkling is surprisingly saved through the capable servos of a certain, grumpy medic, the god is not opposed either. Instead, he recognizes this as his opportunity to influence and ultimately end the War on Cybertron through his creation—no matter the cost. Or, put more crassly: A retelling of Transformers Prime with Bumblebee as Primus’ puppet.

Chapter: 1/7 Wordcount: roughly 10.5k words.

Short excerpt below the cut:

The feeling was already there when it became aware of life for the first time. It was eternally graceful and wise.

The feeling would still be there long after its awareness of life faded for the last time. It was eternally graceful and cruel.

When its optics flickered online for the very first time the feeling was already rooted deep within its little spark, waiting for it to arrive. You are late, guardian, it welcomed the new life to the desolate wasteland of a planet before its processor had even finished its full booting routine. We will have to hurry and adjust.

The world it had awoken in was grey and slowly dying. It did not yet know, but far, far above it, the sky was, too.

Sluggishly, it turned its helm to the side, programmes and subroutines adjusting only slowly to the cruelly overwhelming sensations of becoming alive.

What little light the blue glimmer of the big, but dim sphere above it provided was barely enough to illuminate its immediate surroundings. Soon, even that little glimmer would fade and perish, too. How it knew that, it could not say. The Allspark had been dying for far longer than it had been alive, after all.

After a while the feeling in its spark urged it to get up and so it did.

Its first steps were unsteady and clumsy. When it tripped over its own pedes and fell, there was no one there to catch it. Sharp metal ripped a burning cut into its servo as it failed to catch itself. The energon that oozed down its digits was enticingly blue and vibrant, burning brighter than the dying chamber it was trapped in.

Hush, the feeling in its spark said as it closed the wound in its servo, urging it back onto its pedes with insistent prods. Go on now. You need to find him.

The feeling led it through huge, echoing hallways and chambers that had not borne witness to life in many orns. Thus, the walls often leaned in to take a closer look at it before helping the feeling to usher it along, rolling debris and obstacles out of its way. Everything here, alive or not, knew of the importance of obedience to the feeling in its spark.

It got hungry long before it reached the feeling’s intended goal. Hunger was a curious sensation, it decided after marching on for awhile. At first it had only nagged shyly at the bottom of its tanks, easily dismissed in favour of its orders. With time, however, it had grown into a monster intent to devour its insides whole. It hurt and it didn’t know how to make it stop.

Hush, the feeling in its spark spoke as it blew a wave of numbness across its tiring frame. Tiredness… that was new, too. It’s going to be over soon.

At some point or another, its pedes started hurting, too. It just walked on, down paths that had never had something like it in mind when they had been built lifetimes ago.

Finally, the hallway in front of it opened up into a chamber. Despite the feeling’s constant nagging to go on, it couldn’t help but stop the moment it could make out the sheer size of the room in front of it. The structures it had been wandering ever since it first woke up had already been large, but this hall’s dimensions simply defied its comprehension. It could barely make out the rounded wall on the other side of the hall. Distantly it wondered who this might have been made for. Not it in any case.

Climb, instructed the feeling in its spark. It stumbled forward a few steps with the force of the order. Only when its gaze followed the direction of the push up, up, up the rounded walls did it notice that the enormous hall was actually an enormous hole, opening up to a grey sky what felt like lifetimes of height above its helm.

Climb, commanded the feeling again and so it started climbing. It was the only thing to do for a numb little thing like it.

When it finally pulled itself out of the Well, it collapsed in exhaustion. Warnings it could not yet comprehend flickered through its HUD but were dismissed easily enough at the command of the feeling in its spark. Then, only microcycle later, it was urged back onto its little pedes.

Hush now, little thing, commanded the feeling as it threaded impressions of a gentle but fierce giant clad in red and blue into its tiny processor. You are almost with him. He needs your help. Go now.

At some point its pedes started hurting again. Its tanks were hurting, too. And its optics. The feeling in its spark simply enveloped it in numbness, so it could walk and march and soldier on.

It knew immediately when it finally neared its destination because the feeling in its spark began to buzz excitedly in anticipation. In the distance it could just so make out two figures clashing in an intricate dance of blows, claws and blades. One of them was grey and terrible, the other was red and blue and awe-inspiring and losing.

The feeling in its spark quite happily confirmed the latter as the Prime it had been created to aid. You will save him. It is not yet his time to return to the Allspark.

It was continually ushered forward by the feeling, towards the fighting figures that slowly revealed themselves to be giants as it came ever closer to them. Quite suddenly, it realised that not only were they big, but it was also, more importantly, incomprehensibly small and quite insignificant in a world of mech larger than life.

Still, it soldiered on.

It had a mission to fulfil, after all.

Distract him. Now! ordered the feeling in its spark when it had finally stumbled close enough to the giants to be in danger of being squashed. Like a bug. Whatever a bug was. Despite its curious prods, its processor refused to elaborate beyond the simple word.

The feeling in its spark gently redirected its attention back to the fight and repeated its earlier order. Distract him so that the Prime can live.

It did not want to disappoint again so it did the first thing it could think of and simply jumped at the grey monster, scrambling desperately to cling to his mighty pede and pull his terrifying attention onto it.

Continue reading here: XXX.

[b1rd1ee]

This is for Megastar roleswap au from a post from @transingthoseformers still thinking about how it would work, those two have NOT left my brain.

Starscream watched the video feeds as the fighting raged on. The Decepticons were winning, pushing the Autobots back. Everything he had ever hoped for was within reach. Yet, he felt nothing—no joy, no pride; just emptiness.

He picked up his commlink and called the only bot he could trust to discuss his feelings: Megatron, his second-in-command. "Megatron, where are you? You were supposed to arrive an hour ago. It's not like you to be late," he said, but only static answered him.

Starscream glanced back at the video feed, the emptiness still haunting him. "Listen, don't tell anyone, but everything I hoped for is finally within reach. And yet, I feel nothing. Winning… it’s not what I expected. I thought it would feel different." Silence lingered on the other end.

"Megatron?" he called out. Still nothing. "Megatron!"

Something was wrong. He rushed out of the bridge, his mind racing with worry, and hurried to Megatron's room. He opened the door quickly. The room was clean and tidy. On the berth lay Megatron's commlink, a Decepticon badge, and a pad. Starscream approached the berth and picked up the badge. This was Megatron's. He looked at the pad, and with shaky servos, he turned it on.

It displayed a video of Megatron. Starscream placed the badge down and held the pad with both servos. "My name is Megatron. If you are watching this, then I am not there. I have finally realized something."

Confusion filled Starscream. Why wasn't Megatron here? Why did he leave his badge behind? What was happening?

Megatron continued, "When we first started the Decepticons, we fought for freedom and equality against our oppressors. But as the war dragged on, we strayed from that goal. We have committed terrible acts in the name of victory and power, myself included." He looked down, guilt and sadness in his eyes. Starscream reached out to touch the screen, as if trying to connect with Megatron. "We have created a world filled with pain and fear, something no one should ever witness," he said, placing a servo on his abdomen.

"That’s why I’ve made a decision," Megatron declared, looking up with a determination Starscream had never seen before. His next words hit Starscream harder than anything could. "I’m leaving the Decepticons, and I don’t intend to return. I hope this will awaken others, maybe even you…"

Megatron seemed to look directly into Starscream’s eyes. "…Goodbye, Starscream." The video cut to static.

Starscream stood frozen for a moment before falling to his knees. He clutched the pad and whispered painfully, "This is my fault."

Meanwhile, Megatron lay at a cave entrance, gazing out at the world he was leaving behind. He wondered how far he was from the base but had no idea. He placed his servo on his abdomen, feeling the newspark move within him. Did Starscream know? He would figure it out eventually.

"I should get some sleep," Megatron thought as he began to drift off.

“There is so much I’ve sacrificed for this cause.” As Megatron's eyes fluttered shut, the weight of his decisions pressed heavily on his mind, blurring the line between loyalty and betrayal. In the silence of the cave, the echoes of his past choices lingered, weaving a tapestry of regret that he could not escape.

[goosism]

Cybertronian reproductive headcanons

i was thinking about it while scrolling through some tags a bit ago and thought maybe I could put it all into writing. (this is mostly for me more than anything lmao) (I got a Little carried away)

Firstly, taking into account some of the canon ways of reproduction (heavily inspired by that) such as the allspark and those hotspots thht i don't quite remember the name of.

I do think forged bots would be predominant but there would also be bots who are the offspring of other bots. Now the actual carrying process itself is simpler in writing than actually doing it. Sparkmerge, keep the spark for a few deca cycles, and get the spark protoform somehow (I find the idea of a carrier throwing their sparkling near a hotspot so their frame can be forged a little humorous. I don't think it's completely off the table but probably not recommended unless the sparkling in question is as strong as a newspark that'd be shot out of one of the hotspots)

The most difficult part is keeping the newspark from fizzing/fading out, or being reabsorbed. Since the sparkling is also very taxing on the carrier(s) spark itself, it's not uncommon for partners to take turns carrying the spark in the later stages because the sparkling is essentially a leech to the carrier. If a carrier keeps a sparkling within their spark chamber for too long they are at risk of death or some other spark disease from the stress that their spark would be placed under (yikes!). Though, the bot that the sparkling first appears within is considered the Carrier for clear reasons. (Also, because sparklings are able to be transported into another spark chamber in the mid-later stages, there are things such as sparkling donors, similar to egg/sperm ones for humans)

Young sparklings (freshly formed, that is) are VERY SUSCEPTIBLE to abrupt changes, so many times Carriers aren't even aware that they are (unless they've been actively trying with partner(s)) so the sparkling will oftentimes just die/be reabsorbed by the carrier before anyone knows. Carriers who became carriers by accident aren't very common for this reason.

Sparklings are also rarely formed one at a time! They come in multiples due to high mortality rate. They experience what could be closest to their infancy and young childhood at this stage. They're taking a lot from their carriers, including some information. It's not anything strong, just a vague idea of the world and random things.

Carriers do go through frame changes, though minor. At most, the plating and/or glass surrounding their spark chamber will become thicker.

loose sketch of carriers spark + their later stages sparklings bc im tired and dont wanna put effort

Now, do I think Humans and Cybertronians could reproduce together? Thats a whole other can of beans

[honor-cxde]

Of Seekertwins and Hotspots

I once had this whole headcanon written out and posted, but it was lost in an unfortunate purge. Up until now, I haven't had the desire to re-write it, because I fear it will not be as good as the first version. But. here we go.

HOW ROBOTS CAME TO BE IN DREADWING'S UNIVERSE

Disclaimer: This is blog specific. I do not expect anyone else to follow these headcanons, however, you're welcome to if you like them.

In one specific universe, on one specific Cybertron, there is the Well of All Sparks. While there is certainly the MAIN Well, the largest of them all, located near Tyger Pax (the religious capitol of the planet), it is a far cry from the only one. No, smaller Wells litter the planet's surface, dotted here and there. In every case, each is a holy place, as it is the lifeline of their kind, and a direct tie to Primus Himself.

Accompanying these varying Wells are the Hot Spots. These are areas of dense material wealth in terms of rich deposits, loaded with every kind of mineral and metal known to exist. In company, the Hot Spots and the various Wells are responsible for the birth of new Cybertronian life. A fresh spark will erupt from the nearest Well and careen like a comet towards the closest Hot Spot it can find. How they do this, no one knows -- only they do, and that knowledge is lost long before it can be shared. Down the newspark comes, crashing into the rich, black, glittering silt, burying itself deep.

After that, it is a waiting game. The first thing to develop, in order to protect the spark, is its geode. A geode is a hard, nigh-impermeable shell that forms around the spark and grows as the life does within. This shell is resistant to all natural disasters -- it can weather storms, floods, drought, acid rains, and solar flares, to name a few.

Once the geode is formed, there really is no formula for predicting when the new life will emerge. Some are quick and eager to hatch, but others, well, they like to take their time.

It is here, within their geode, that Dreadwing and Skyquake's stories began.

Early on in their development, after their plummet from the Vosnian Well, their spark divided into two. Spark-split twins are rare, but not the most unheard of thing in the world. Yet, there is no way to predict when one will become two. As they grew, their Geode grew with them, becoming so massive that the Vosnian Hot Spot attendants thought they would have a very rare shuttleformer on their hands.

Oh yes, there are attendants. It is a remnant of more wild times, tribal times, when rival City-States would raid and steal from enemy Hot Spots.

After a time, all young within their safe geodes must emerge. There is a period of brittling in the Geode, where it becomes weaker and outside armor begins to slough off, indicating the Emergence is nigh. It is a dangerous time for the newsparks within, as they are more susceptible to natural disasters or even predators as their shell weakens. But, eventually, the day comes.

Dreadwing and Skyquake emerged as full, 33 foot tall adults, in the middle of winter, when the Vosnian air was bitter and the winds bit like knives. All fresh hatchlings are extremely gooey, covered in a thick oily substance that protects them from the elements should they have the audacity to emerge during an acid rain storm or something of the like. Once a young mech is free of their geode, they are quickly whisked away by the Attendants who clean them up, install basic knowledge, and send them to their fate.

The unlucky ones are dumped into the unforgiving caste system, helpless to guide themselves to their own future. In the Seekertwin's case, they were adopted by a wealthy noble looking to continue the name of his house, and given a better start.

[mychlapci]

Been thinking about that matrix ask where it makes Optimus want to get bred... and I realised the havoc it'd wreck with Rodimus and his farrrrrr smaller impulse control. That matrix is gonna get real happy, real quick (even if Rodimus ends up breeding with someone he really shouldn't - your choice of villain)

oh hell yes. villain of my choice? well then, let's talk G1. Rodimus letting Galvatron absolutely ruin his pussy. Maybe he ended up in a hand to hand brawl with Galvatron and the matrix just burst with joy sensing another mech on top of him. Which is very bad for Rodimus because Galvatron is crazy and literally on top of him, but also very good for Rodimus, because the matrix has been itching intensely within his chassis since he took it on and he’s pretty sure it has been making him more and more horny as time passed on. He’s been having these fantasies that never before graced his mind. If the click of his panels opening is anything to go off of, the matrix is very, very happy with the way things are going. And to be honest? Rodimus is kind of happy too. He’s just been so horny. 

Galvatron probably doesn’t think much of it and immediately starts fucking him. He’s probably gloating the entire time, which Rodimus doesn’t really like, but he’s too focused on getting his valve pounded to be criticizing Galvatron’s dirty talk. He’s not much better, eventually shamelessly begging to be filled, and it might not all be the matrix talking. 

Rodimus managing to get the upper hand in the end and getting out of Galvatron’s grip, with a now extremely joyous matrix buzzing in his chassis, sending positive vibes to his spark as it immediately begins creating a newspark out of all the coding information Galvatron pumped into him… I wonder what he would tell the others? That the matrix made him do it? Is that even what happened? Either way, he’s now definitely sparked and he can’t find it in him to be upset. Seeing his belly swell and grow makes him feel so damn good. 

Then Galvatron’s baby is born and it is very clearly Galvatron’s baby. And also Rodimus wants another. The matrix. The matrix wants another.

[sonicasura]

A slight consequences of the new “slumber” protocols was that Dart’s cybertronian forms’ Spark was the faintest bit more recognizable as a Sparkling. They chaffed a bit at being compared to a baby of a species, but when said species typically measured things in eighty year increments they resigned themself to it. Someone being a Vorn old was incredibly young so someone like them who (physically) was a little less than a quarter was firmly a Sparkling.

The Vehicons were especially clingy given that they were group-orientated compared to most Cybertronians. Once again, Dart found themself a bit puzzled by how the equivalent of alien robots could behave so organically. They somewhat reluctantly allowed themself to be partially coddled as Strider amongst the Vehicons. It was just until the sparkling related coding went dormant again, they promised.

.

.

.

Only in the following days, it didn’t.

The Omnitrix user apparently greatly underestimated the significance of Sparklings—or rather the absence of such had on certain mechs. Starscream was still trying grapple with the truth about the AllSpark being perfectly conscious, Breakdown kept a close on the spymaster (albeit kept shooting them concerned looks), Knockout occasionally pulled them in to perform medical scans excusing it as tightening parameters after the close Terrorcon encounters, and Soundwave simply stared.

Even with his visor—the shapeshifter could feel his gaze constantly on them when they were in their smaller forms. They really hoped it was Sparkling shock and him missing Laserbeak. Said cassette took to constantly tailing them around the base, even willingly docking on them.

…Dart might have made the situation worse by running a small survey amongst all the Vehicons over what they would do with an actual Sparkling. If they had experience with one or were really spark-broken over the accidental spark extinguishing scare. One “couple” had brief experience and were taking longer to recover. So, Dart knew they were the right two for what they were about to do.

—————————

‘Oh, please don’t go wrong. Please don’t go wrong! Please do not backfire.’

Dart kept the very sedate little one within their servos, flexing their spark signal out to hide the new being. They were Strider once again and really hoping this would go over well. The transformed teen had kept Strider’s eerily Terrorcon reminiscent true faceplates hidden from this timeline’s Inertia Faction. Still, they felt like biting their lip would minimally help curb the small ball of anxiety in their frame.

‘…I can feel the AllSpark laughing at us. First, the shared Primus origin and now making a Newspark completely from scratch. It is a wonder I haven’t been hit with being mistaken for the AllSpark itself at this rate.’

‘That is kinda the last thing we need right now.’

———————

Cruiser and Fairweld were a bit perplexed by being comm’d to come to the main hub. The two of them had been sent for a processor health break. Their leader being able to mimic a Sparkling had been as amazing as it was almost extinguishing when the phenomenon ended. Sure, the Well back on Cybertron had been reignited. But no one had the materials to house Newsparks outside of Cold Forged frames. So many small stages missed due to a lack of materials for making protoform.

A small flurry of motion surprised them both as Strider came pacing down the hallway as the two were about to enter the main hub.

“Hi, sorry to worry you—Take this—Congratulations—Goodbye!” They mentioned in a rushed string of wording, the English taking a moment to process for the Vehicons. Then they registered that the young Spark signal wasn’t diminishing even as Dart moved away. Cruiser registered the bundle hastily moved to his servos only a few moments after Strider was long gone. Two very small, young looking optics stared at him then chirped.

…The entire Vehicon comm system was flooded by images of a newspark Vehicon Sparkling.

—ROB’d Anon.

The Predacon Newsparks were made from existing offlined clones, the Terrans had formed because of the Emberstone. But this little one? A completely new being from the Omnitrix itself—after scraping together the frame material.

Can’t have Sparkling fever with a Sparkling.

Welp, things around the base definitely aren't settling down now. You can't just dump a baby on someone without any context. That little Sparkling is gonna be loved for sure.

[witchofthesouls]

I like thinking about humans-into-Cybertronians because of the weird, alien fuckery along with ex-humans making connections to certain things because it's the closest approximation they have.

Imagine if 'running on fumes' is a literal statement among Cybertronians. As their tanks run near empty, there's a petroleum-like taste that lingers in their sinuses and, if left long enough, cycles out of their vents. That's why Cybertronians typically don't like hanging around gas stations because it's a really stark reminder of long-term starvation. Meanwhile, you got an ex-human going like, "Man, I'm starting to taste gas, so I need gas. Huh, y'all have built-in reminders to feed yourself outside of hunger pains? That's neat."

As well as the ex-humans misdiagnosing themselves. Let's take Cybertronian carriage. Humans are used to a pregnancy that completes its course in a designated organ (aka womb), so finding out a mecha had straight up knocked them up that bypassed the initial spark-to-spark teether formation wouldn't freak them out in the ways that a lot of Cybertronians would be really concerned about. Especially the medics and said partner(s).

Ex-human crying over the sonogram because they got told it's a very high-risk pregnancy and all they see is the coming baby is very deformed since it's only a ball within a ball of green soup and silver tendrils. Partner is highly confused yet attempts comforting in varying levels of success.

Cybertronian medic needs to explain that the sparklet is healthy, but ex-human really needs to watch themselves because the entire process will be done within the gestational chamber and goes deep into explaining the complications that can happen.

Partner is absolutely riveted by all the gravity of the matter since the strain of having a full-carriage that initialized in the chamber can put the carrier in danger as there can be coding conflicting with priorities that rends said carrier unconscious or wrecks health complications, especially since there's a high-chance of the newspark not fully detaching from their carrier's spark as the dropping process ensures.

Ex-human that comes from a species where a pregnancy is like getting into a moderate crash, so damage varies each time is happy that they haven't fucked up badly yet and can plan a baby shower. "By the way, when's the due date?"

Medic: "Hard to say with the carriage combined, but it's more in the primary initialization stage. The sparklet's still has a visible, if a bit thin, teether to your spark, and a solid mass hasn't formed yet."

Ex-human: "Okay, so how long?"Medic says incomprehensible length of time for an Earth child and how it can vary.

*Confused ex-human noises over the several human lifetimes is the equivalent of a span to a Cybertronian carriage. And how multiple factors can impact the timeframe.*

*Confused Medic noises out of sheer concern over ex-human's family history, especially over the fact they have extremely and highly dangerously short carriages.*

*Confused partner noises on why their love wants to plan a bathtime for the newspark at this moment, and wonders if ex-human knows that water and infant Cybertronians do not mix.*

Or, another thing. What if the dropping process where the sparklet detaches from the carrier's spark to descend into the gestational chamber below to build its frame has very 'classic'** heart symptoms in a human body?

(** Quick heads up, much of human biology and modern medical understanding derives from male biology. Unfortunately, women usually see atypical symptoms that are more subtle, moderate rather than severe pain/discomfort, or pain in other other locations rather than the chest.)

Ex-human has sudden, excruciatingly chest pain, insides literally quivering and shifting in sync with the bursts. Meanwhile, everyone around them is calm, trying to soothe them, and they think they're honestly dying so fast because there's no rush to the nearby hospital, and everyone is pushing comfort-it's okay-we got you at them.

[blueskyscribeupdates]

I am once again pecking away at "Life in Glass Houses" like a songbird confronted with a pastry that is seemingly too large for it.

As a thanks to all my wonderful readers, I decided to share a scene from the next chapter. :) Truly, thank you all!

The wind whirled through deeply trenched streets and around the steel towers, pulling at the curtain domed over the balcony.  Knockdown's hand kept it in place, gauze loosely gripped in his slender fingers as he gazed down at the city.  His eyes moved from one familiar haunt to another: the park where he had learned to fly as a clumsy newspark, the creche where he had been taught his letters and had his wings measured twice weekly, the medical school where his destiny had been set for him, and the hospital where he had fulfilled it.  There was the bar where the interns complained about the senior staff, and the cafe where the senior staff complained about the interns. Midways up a steel-strutted building was the first modest apartment that had been all his own, and many stories higher was the luxurious one that came later.  

(The one he was standing in.  A moment of doubt, of vertigo almost, rolled through his circuits, but after a moment the ripples smoothed out. To hang back, to watch himself from afar, what was so odd about that?)

Other familiar sights were tucked between the silvery bars of the skyscrapers and apartment towers.  The plaza where open-air concerts played in the summer.  The clinic in the Dredges, where he volunteered in the rainy season. Dancers from a dozen incongruous festivals paraded through the streets.  Even from this height, he caught the thin echos of joyous shouts and familiar songs.  The skies were filled with Seekers swooping and laughing.

Knockdown pulled back from the balcony's edge and let the curtain fall. He didn't turn around, but he was not startled when a hand settled on his shoulder, enormous and smelling of crude oil.  A huge thumb rubbed over the flat of his wing.  He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"  The deep voice held a gentle reproach.

Knockdown opened his eyes. He half expected to see a smoke-wreathed battlefield or a small blue planet through a warship's window, but the view was the same: the city of Vos stretching exuberantly skyward, made misty by the curtain.  A flock of young jets tore past playing a rowdy game of air-tag, followed by trines moving in deliberate patterns.  Wingtip to wingtip, they arched and rolled in perfect synchronicity, the silky, wide ribbons behind them twining in loops and braids.

"What are they doing?"

"Courting. It's the Festival of Diamonds." Knockdown turned towards Brakeline, resting his cheek against his broad chest. It was as warm as he remembered.  "You should go."

"Why?" The hands fit comfortably around his waist.

"Because that's what happens." Knockdown swallowed, waiting until he was sure his vocalizer wouldn't glitch.  "Anyway, you don't belong here."

"And you do?" A huge hand cupped his chin, tilted it up.

This won't fix anything. It's not real.

Knockdown surged onto the tips of his pedes to meet Brakeline's kiss.  His spark hammered. The ice within him cracked, melt, before the heat of his longing.  Behind him the wind whipped the draperies and the trines roared in their flight.

"I love you," Brakeline said breathlessly when they broke apart.  "I'll never leave you."

"No?" Knockdown sombered. He turned away, his hands catching the curtains, leaning into them for support.  "And yet I'm alone."

"What do you mean? I'm right here."

"Only in my dreams."  

For a moment Brakeline was silent.  Then, quietly: "Do you miss me?"

The white gauze billowed around Knockdown's fist.  His vision blurred; tears, perhaps, or a creeping frost.  "You dare ask me that?"

No answer came.  

"Brakeline?" Knockdown turned around to face the replica of his old apartment: just as he remembered it, perfect in every detail.  And perfectly empty. 

He woke up.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Ever since I read your Innocent Abominations story I've been thinking about the Matrix going in the exact opposite direction. This ancient, sentient, vaguely eldritch relic of a demigod takes one look at the Terrans and goes "BABIES!!!". Optimus barely even glances at them during their first meeting to check it they're ok and is promptly sucker-punched by divine parental instincts. As far as the two are concerned the Terrans are their niephlings and by Primus are they going to do all they can to help these younglings with the inevitable nonsense that will come with being the children of one of the Thirteen. They are prepared to live, die and kill for these children.

We love a good ol protective Op in this house.

Original concept here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Optimus never hated sparklings or even younglings for that matter. He didn't exactly have plans to be a parent, but he'd been a mentor more than enough times to not be against the concept of potentially having progeny of his own. Of course all potential plans would come to fruition once the war was over and extinction didn't loom over his helm. At least that was what he thought.

When Bumblebee informed him of the Terrans existence, Optimus was pleased, but that was all. New Cybertronian life was always something to be cherished in a time when no newsparks had emerged since the war was at its peak. He didn't interact with the Terrans, largely for their own safety.

Then the time came, and he finally met the little ones.

The Matrix was never particularly talkative. It did not approve of war, and thus often kept quiet unless it was offering necessary wisdom and encouragement. But one glance at the Terrans proved to be enough to bring an end to its millennia long vow of silence. For the first time, Optimus heard the Matrix speak with words rather than in images or knowledge.

"Our younglings."

That was all it said, but Optimus felt it in every single fiber of his being. The Matrix had spoken, and as its vessel, Optimus obeyed. His very code shifted, command trees that he had never even known existed sprung to life, and before he knew it, he was already on a knee reaching out to shake the servos of the little ones. His finials perked up in a friendly manner, his field flared out in bursts, and his plating sat at an amicable mid flare, just enough to show trust. All this was done unconsciously as, without his knowledge, his very voice adjusted to be softer.

By the time all was said and done, the battle over, and the children safely escorted home, Optimus had never felt so alive. Megatron gave him the most disturbed look Optimus had ever witnessed, but at that moment, he didn't care. Within him the Matrix was already speaking again, offering thinly veiled orders and continuing to adjust him so that he would be better suited to the new task ahead of him.

All that kept him from hightailing it over to the Maltos every single day was Elita physically dragging him back toward wherever he was meant to be. Everyone was on edge watching Optimus fall further and further into his strangely happy daydreams. To them, it looked like what the humans called "baby fever" but on steroids. Optimus didn't even wait a week before he was obsessing over how to properly interact with the Terrans. He started making things for them and then promptly put them away since in his optics it simply wasn't good enough.

The Matrix had him on the move all the time, constantly reminding him of the little ones that were well within his reach. It had already begun all of its internal adjustments, and so all it had left to do was to make Optimus more appealing. The Matrix began the long process of hiding the outright malicious looking equipment on the Prime's frame, even softening his features somewhat so that he would come off as more peaceful. Optimus for his part didn't notice his frame bulking up in order to make him a better guardian. He most certainly wasn't aware of the way his very frame was edging into something firmer and yet less intimidating. A quiet guardian, that was what the Matrix wanted.

When all was said and done, Megatron was slightly terrified of this new and strangely cheery Optimus and Elita was no better. Both united over their shared concerns and opted to quietly watch Optimus when he finally found a decent excuse to visit the Terrans. Megatron was incredibly on edge when Optimus all but bolted toward the Maltos residence and then skidded to a perfect stop so that he could walk forward calmly as if nothing had happened. He was so focused on performing well that the battle hardened warrior all but vanished.

In his place was the dock worker from long before the war. An excitable young mech eager to help and offer what wisdom he had. The Terrans were pleasantly surprised to find that the supposedly ancient Optimus Prime was, from what they were seeing, a gentle giant. The Matrix had never been more pleased when Optimus settled down and offered to engage with the Terrans in whatever manner they found best. He spent the whole day with them, reading, telling stories, letting them beat him in mock battles, and teaching them what he could of Cybertron.

There was no violence to be seen in him as he played. Megatron was slightly terrified, but he said nothing and allowed the moment. It was only when Optimus hummed an old folk tune and wrapped the Terrans in his field that Megatron finally understood what was going on.

"You can't adopt them. They have a family here."

"We are well aware. Don't worry. We have no intention of taking them away."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"They are the offspring of our brother. They are young and must be guided by kin."

"You don't have any siblings Optimus."

"I do not, but together, WE do."

"Oh not the Prime slag again. That relic hasn't done anything during the war, so why would it act now?"

"The Matrix had no reason to act. It detests war. New life has given us something to unite over."

"So you are going to teach them?"

"Yes. We will guide and watch over them. We will not be their parents, that is not our station. But we will always be here for them... for that is the duty of a Prime."

Every moment he could spare, Optimus did everything in his power to make time for the Terrans. The Matrix sang when he visited, and despite how much it weirded out Bumblebee, the human Maltos, and Megatron, Optimus kept coming back.

Younglings born of Quintus. He never thought it would come to pass. And yet here they were, bright and full of life.

Despite his new and more docile appearance, Optimus Prime was more than ready to act when the Terrans were targeted. The Matrix abhorred war. But it was not necessarily against violence in small doses.

[first-of-the-next]

Hall of Records: Newspark Formation Types

Forged - Kindled - Well Sparked - Sigma Sparked

Forged: those individuals who began as free-flying sparks from the Well, journeyed near and far across Cybertron, and found suitable places to sink into the metal ground, superheating it into molten hotspots. Limited records from bygone ages indicate this was the first and most common form of newspark formation at the dawn of the world, as it has become so again thanks to the revitalization of our planet since the War's ending.

“Wild mecha forged from natural hotspots almost always emerge with limited intellect, relying on the spark’s instincts and emotions rather than developing their processors for logic and higher thought. But, they also possess the added advantage of continued adaptation - as long as a forged spark remains in close proximity to their hotspot, they can keep returning to it before it cools to add more material onto their frame, growing bigger or developing extra kibble features..."

Kindled: those who began life not from the Well, as all other sparks do, but from an intimate exchange of energy between two or more fully matured individuals. If a suitable threshold is crossed, then one of these individuals captures and retains within their spark chamber a small crystalized cluster, which within a few orn begins to expand into its own self. The rate of maturation entirely depends on available energy from the kindled spark's host, either via consumed fuel, or further intimacy with the other involved party or parties. When the newspark reaches a point of self-sufficiency, it detaches, much in the same way countless others have detached from the Allspark. Unlike free-flying sparks, however, kindled beings must immediately be transferred into suitable proto-frames to have the slightest chance of survival.

(A brief note that it is entirely possible to install coding which prevents the buildup and retention of excess energy during intimate encounters, preventing the process of kindling. Such a thing was not common, but neither unheard of, in days gone by. During the War, however, mandates came down within both the Decepticon and Autobot forces, and even in Neutral refugee camps it became a requirement for entree to install said coding - the energy requirements to sustain a kindled spark to maturation were too high for anyone to bear...)

Well Sparked: in ancient days, when the Well was first discovered by early Cybertronians, a method was devised in which individuals could construct small frames of limited function and present them upon the sacred ground. More often than not, a free-flying spark passing by would take an interest, and settle into the empty chamber rather than go off to find suitable ground for a hotspot. These 'first frame' individuals begin life in a more robust form than their kindled counterparts, and while generally smaller and weaker than forged mechanisms, a fully mature Cybertronian stood ready and willing to take on the role of caretaker, until two or three frame upgrades could be enacted for more advanced systems.

"Kindled sparks required at least intimate partner to achieve, if not sets of three or four individuals, depending on their sizes and frametypes. To adopt and mentor a Forged being meant going out into the wilds and finding one willing to be guided into civilized society. For those who had no partners, or none they trusted, and no desire to risk life and limb in search of a hotspot, the Well of course seemed a divine and much-welcome option. In time, however, access to the sacred ground became harder to achieve, as noble-caste mecha lavished extravagant gifts upon the guardian priesthood for special treatment, and petitioners of lower rank and wealth more and more often found themselves turned away..."

Sigma Sparked: to die upon the metal and mineral of our homeworld is to return one's spark to Primus - or rather, to the repository known as Vector Sigma. This ancient and mystical archive stores the echoes of every spark to live and perish within the boundaries of its vast, planet-wide network. The particulars of 'how' remain unknown even to the most intensely curious of scholars, but one indisputable fact is clear: if one is to present a fully built and functional frame before Vector Sigma, requiring only a spark for life, then the ancient system will scan it, and provide a suitable inhabitant. Newsparks created in such a way retain no true memory of their former lives; only instinctual preference, and sometimes preserved fears.

For as long as Vector Sigma has been known, so too has existed the myth that insists any Cybertronian who dies elsewhere in the vast reaches of space is lost forever, their spark unable to return and be reborn from the ancient databanks. As it is impossible to fully scan the full extent of the Sigma archive, or necessarily recognize a spark within, this myth has never been proven. One curious deviation from the norm does exist, however, in the form of the Primes: those touched by Primus himself to guide and protect his children forever retain a connection to him, and also to Vector Sigma, able to remotely upload memories of their experiences no matter how far they travel across the cosmos...

[solarfracture]

On the forging of Cybertronians and possible reproduction.

More Than Meets The Eye #17

Thoughts and headcanons under the cut.

Starting with the basis which Cybertronian life began is directly from Primus.

There are the initial Cybertronians that are forged by Primus. Only the first Cybertronians are directly created by Primus himself.

Then depending on worldbuilding there are:

Those who are born from what are called hot spots. These Cybertronians are still considered forged. But they are not directly made from Primus (they are created from Cybertron, which yes is Primus but in a dormant state).

Cold construction. But that is if you wish for a darker kind of story or one with more conflict in this area (Such as IDW).

Delving into fanon now, with the procreation of Cybertronians.

To begin, I feel that the main methods of new Cybertronian life after the initial directly primus born ones would be those who emerge from hot spots.

How this would work, is that a hot spots form periodically so that the population does not dwindle out. This would be due to Cybertronians having… lets just say "mass death events ". There would also just be general deaths that occur, such as murder, accident, and deterioration.

Thus, if we are to consider the fanon possibility of newsparks forged from a carrier/sire, this function would exist for populations that have left Cybertron and end up populating distant lands.

This is going under a belief that there are no hotspots outside of Cybertron. The only possibility for a hot spot to exist off of Cybertron would be if Primus had imbued that area with energy.

This method of new Cybertronians coming to life though, would be extremely rare.

If we wish to take a religious approach to this, we can consider the phrase "till all are one" and the belief that in death, a spark is returned to the allspark.

Considering this, for carrier/sire forged cybertronians, a major aspect in whether or not a newspark will form would be if population size demands it.

Depending on what is preferred for fic/headcanons, hotspot forged mechs can emerge in infancy, adolescence, or as fully formed adults. This depends on length of time the spark spends within the hot spot, and the size of the mech. Perhaps a way to think about this would be akin to the formation of minerals/crystals.

The smaller the population, the more sparks reside within the well. Thus a higher chance of carrier/sire born mechs, along with hotspot forged Cybertronians. This applies inversely as well.

To go on a tangent, I believe that some sparks would have an affinity to remaining within the allspark and others to be reborn anew. This could also means that the amount of sparks that are able to be produced is finite. For implementations of cold construction, this would be a reason as to why it is done. Cybertronians are not lifeforms that come solely from the entropy of the universe such as life on Earth.

So then that is to say, due to the damage Cybertron receives due to the war, there is not enough energy/energon to assist in the forging of new Cybertronians. Hot spots cease to form, as this is due to Cybertron needing to self repair.

The main option left for new Cybertronian life is through carrier/sire forged mecha.

Though due to the length of a Cybertronians life, size, and intelligence; it requires an immense amount of energy/energon and materials to forge new life.

Cybertron/Primus when healthy has no concern for the toll of energy/materials, due to his immense size, and ability to create pure energon. Primus is a god after all. The process of forging a newspark and protoform is an immensely laborious task on the carrier. A Cybertronian created from a hot spot is forged much faster due to the abundance of materials and energy provided from the planet. Carriers on the other hand, are greatly lacking in comparison. It takes a vast amount of time to forge a sparkling. Of course, due to the immense of a Cybertronian's lifespan, in comparison a gestation is not that long in the grand scheme of things.

Except it is much too long when it comes to wartime and a dwindling population.

During war, being a carrier is practically a death sentence. A gestation takes far too long, and too many resources. Even if a sparkling emerges, the length of time it takes to reach adulthood is extremely long.

Considering that many Cybertronians are over a million years old, a thousand years is less than 0.01% of their lived experience. This is only mentioned to put into perspective in how long development can occur. I personally headcanon that a gestation takes about 11,000 years. The amount of time it takes to reach maturity though, is something I am still considering about. Though thinking about how they are basically immortal, I feel like 200,000 years is a good number.