#Team Sentinel Alpha

[hoperiley]

Eliyahna "Wolf" Jordan-Riley

[problematicbots]

Winged Sentinel Au Snippet 10: Alone

Jetfire, with a metal collar around his neck, runs across the training grounds that have been turned into a gray maze with large walls touching the metal ceiling overhead that blocked any chances of flying away without any deathly crash.

Jetstorm was following right behind him with a similar collar around his neck as they both dodged into separate corners barely avoiding multiple giant lasers coming from the wall behind them.

Ever since Sentinel was suspended as sub-commander, nothing has been the same; Alpha Trion got rid of all the updates Sentinel made to the training grounds in favor of this labyrinth filled with deadly puzzles that the twins have solved and escape from as their final test To prove themselves worthy of official Elite guard status.

Alpha Trion wasn't even there to guide them through the maze; instead, he watched safely from overhead cameras and spoke through a speaker every time they failed.

“Wrong answer, you failed 2 times in a row another failure and room you stood upon shall crash upon itself taking you with it” announced Alpha Trion “You got 30 minutes to solve the next puzzle before the lasers activated once again”

With that, the floor between them begins to rise, creating a wall with a countdown monitor separating the twins.

“Jetfire!” Screamed Jetstorm, trying to reach his brother but was cut off by the wall, nearly cutting his faceplate.

“Jetstorm! “ Screamed Jetfire slamming his servos against the wall with angry tears in his optics

In an attempt to reunite with his brother, Jetfire turned his servo into a blaster and was about to fire at the wall to burn it down when.

ZAP!

The collar around his neck zapped him, causing his blaster to retract and for him to fall to his knees in pain.

“No weapons allowed, plenty: your time has been cut down to 5 minutes. Solve that next puzzle ahead soon, “ announced Alpha Trion over the speaker coldly as the numbers on the monitor changed from 30 minutes down to five minutes.

Jetfire bit on his glossa to hold back from yelping in pain however angry tears still fell down his faceplate this wasn't fair first he lost Sentinel and now he was separate from his brother: he never felt so alone before

“Jetstorm,i-I’ll find you, I promise..I'll find you, “ cried Jetfire over the wall, hoping his brother could hear him.

However, Jetstorm didn't respond, whether it was because he couldn't hear him or..he was offline, Jetfire didn't want to know it would be too much for his spark to handle, so with a heavy sigh, he passed and followed to the next puzzle while the countdown monitor slowly ticked down.

The puzzle that Jetstorm approached was a black panel floor that expanded across most of the area. At the end of the puzzle was a locked door that seemed to be the exit and in front of the puzzle was a simple sign that simply said: Make the floor brown to leave.

Determined to get his brother back, Jetfire begins leaping on top of the different panels on the floor jumping across each one without thinking twice.

When he turned, he landed on the last panel. He turned around expecting the panel he previously jumped upon to turn brown, only to widen his optics in surprise to find that half of the panels had turned yellow while the other half was purple.

So he decided to try again, leaping across each panel only to get a similar result. This time, it was blue and orange.

This frustrated and panicked him since he could tell he was running out of time as the numbers on the monitor softly shifted from five minutes to two minutes each time he was unable to turn this damn floor brown.

“Come on, come turn brown!” shouted Jetfire, beginning to slam against the panels with sevros in frustration. “I just want my brother back! I just wanted Sentinel back I just wanted-”

Jetfire cut himself off with tears as he curled up into a ball watching the panels flash different colors in front of him when he felt like he was about to give up and just..let Alpha Trion win..he realized something half of the panels turned the opposite color of the other half of the panels if he could change the panels to dark green and dark red.. he could make brown.

So, with that plan on his hard drive, he was able to get back on his feet and begin leaping on top of each panel. This time, he paid attention to the colors below him, making sure he did this right.

The numbers on the monitor tricked down to one minute as Jetfire landed on the last panel making the floor half dark green and half dark red.

CLICK

The door at the end of the puzzle unlocked and opened wide, making Jetfire optics light up his hope; however, his spark dropped when he realized the monitor was still ticking down: he needed to get out of there and fast.

“I’m coming, Jetstorm,” cried Jetfire, dashing towards the door that led him into a long white hallway that he kept running through as everything dimmed around him in darkness.

________________________________________

Jetstorm found himself in a similar position as Jetfire in front of the same puzzle, but instead of immediately jumping on each panel like his brother, he carefully slowly tapped each panel with servos while on his knees, but just like his brother, he ran into the same frustration of the colors never turning brown.

“Come, I'm doing anything right, isn't I?” questioned Jetstorm, sniffing in desperation as his tapping became faster with each second until he couldn't take it anymore, feeling like this was all his fault for never speaking up until recently, and just like his brother. He slammed servos against the panels creating a flash of colors.

This makes him realize that half of the panels turn the opposite colors of the other half of the panels, and if he wanted to get out of there, he needed to turn the floor into the two colors that make the color brown.

However, his current strategy wasn't going to work as he turned his helm over to the ticking countdown monitor, which was nearing one minute.

If he wanted to get out of there, he needed to be fast, so with a sigh, he got up on his feet and began running across the panels as fast as he could while making sure all the colors were right.

When he hit the last panel, he heard a loud click, and he turned his helm to find the previously locked door at the end of the puzzle now wide open.

With the countdown monitor still ticking down, Jetstorm ran towards the door that took him towards a long white hallway where he kept on running.

Eventually, he found himself entering a white room with a passageway across from him, another passageway to the right side of the room, and a garbage chute tucked in the left corner.

As soon as he stepped farther into the room the collar popped off his neck and he heard footsteps coming from the passageway so he quickly took his blaster ready to blow a windstorm at what he believed to be another challenge only for his optics to widen in joy at who step out of the shadows of the passageway.

“Jetfire!” squealed Jetstorm retracting his blaster and running towards his brother with open arms.

“Jetstorm” Squealed Jetfire with the collar popping off his neck as he ran towards his brother with happy tears in his optics.

The twins pulled each other into a giant tight hug, never wanting to let go of each other since they both, for a moment, thought they lost their closest family for good.

However, their moment was interrupted by a light clapping sound. They turned this helm around to find it was no other than Alpha Trion stepping out of the passageway on the right. However, his faceplate was anything other than proud. There was a clear underline of anger there.

“Impressive you solved my maze, but unfortunately to the rest of Cybertron you shall never be Autobots and will always be Abominations” spoked Alpha Trion with hate spilling from his voice

Jetfire and Jetstorm step away from Alpha Trion as he approaches and they start draggers at the old mech however their anger quickly turns into fear as they watch Alpha Trion’s body begin to transform into his monstrous vehicle mode yet an ancient steamed machine that was mixed of a owl body, the cannons of a tank and the wheels of a steam engine.

“Abominations I must eradicate for the better Cybertron future “ hissed the old mech before shooting a blast at the twins

_______________________________________

Inside of old rusty oil house Jazz sat down at a bar counter with a glass of untouched oil by his side looking down at the messy drawing of Jetfire, Jetstorm, and Sentinel in regret: what has he done, in his attempts to avoid confrontation he ends up screwing up everything instead of earning everyone respect…he lost the respect of a friend.

He wondered what could have been if he hadn't been so short-sighted and if he could have seen the bigger picture instead of letting all those harmful judgments from others get inside of his hard drive.

He placed down the messy drawing on the counter table and picked up his untouched glass of oil.

For a moment, He stared at the reflection of himself on the glass where he could no longer see a cool head bot that could go with the float but instead.. an ignorant coward who couldn't even stand up for himself.

“I’m such an idiot,” muttered Jazz, putting the glass of oil back down and taking off his shades with one servo placing them on the counter table, revealing his blue teary optics before covering his glossa with the same servos as he let out multiple sobs.

This caught the attention of a familiar red Cybertronian who was wearing a purple party on his helm: it was Cliffjumper who approached Jazz with concern across his faceplate as he sat next to the white mech.

“Jazz, By the all spark, what in Cybertron happens to you?” asked Cliffjumper.

Jazz turned his helm over to Cliffjumper, a bit hesitant to open up at first. However, all of this guilt overwhelmed him that he needed to speak to someone, so he removed his servo from his mouth to speak.

“i-I messed up, Cliffjumper,” choked Jazz “I want to gain everyone's respect, but..I ended up losing a friend, and I-I don't know what to do”.

Cliffjumper was still concerned for Jazz; however, the red mech couldn't help but narrow his optics at the white mech.

“May I ask, why should you care what others think of you? They aren't worth it at all, especially if they talk nonsense,” questioned Cliffjumper, hardly yet still in concern. “What you should care about is getting that friendship back. “

Jazz was a bit taken aback by Cliffjumper's nonsense attitude, but at the same time, he felt like he needed it, although doubt came crawling back from his hard drive.

“Well, I guess you're right, but what if…you know he doesn't forgive me? “ muttered Jazz under his breath. “Maybe…just should stay here “

“Oh, get your helm out of your aft, Jazz; this isn't about forgiveness. It's about doing the right thing no matter what,t, “ replied Cliffjumper, crossing his arms in almost disappointment.

Cliffjumper was right; Jazz was done with letting his fear control him: it was time to do the right thing regardless of what everyone else thought. He didn't care if he lost everyone's respect or had to pick a side in a conflict to do so since he had seen the consequences of what happened..this time, he was on Sentinel's side, but for real.

“you’re right in gotta make things right, “ spoked Jazz, picking up the messy drawing from the corner table, storing it safely in his glove compartment, and getting up from his chair, although he couldn't help but ask one thing before he left.

“Oh, What with that party hat?” Jazz couldn't help but ask as he was a foot out of the door.

“Oh yeah apparently Rodimus throws a party for anybody who gets a promotion” answered Cliffjumper “It's a little bit weird but I guess it's not as weird as that blue cube that felt like it had spark beat that Longarms gave me”

Jazz froze at Cliffjumper’s words: did he just say that a cube felt like it was a spark? Beat that was impossible unless..that cube was a Cybertronian..no. No, Longarms wouldn't do that.. would he..but then again, there was a feeling in his spark that told him to check Longarm's office.

“But then again, this is the same sicko who exposed a death femme journal that got Sentinel fired, so I can't really be surprised anymore,” continued Cliffjumper.

He did what?! Ok, that was it; Jazz needed to check his office since something was up.

“Thank you for anything, Cliffjumper, but I got to go, “ yelped Jazz before officially leaving the house oil in a bolt as he transformed into his vehicle mode, not realizing he left his shades behind on the counter.

Jazz kept driving as fast as he could toward Fort Maximus, transforming back to his robot mode as soon he reached inside and progressed to running until he reached Longarms’s office. He slowly opened the door, peering his optics through the open frame.

Jazz’s optics widened in shock when he spotted Longarms transforming into some kind of dark purple Cybertronian that had one thing on his chest plate that sent fear into Jazz's spark: a Decepticon logo on it.

This was, of course, no other than Shockwave and Jazz watching in fear as the Decepticon poured poison into a glass of oil that he was holding.

Jazz immediately connected the dots in front of him: this con was going to poison Ultra Magnus, frame somebody for it, and take the title of Magnus so he could hand Cybertion to Megatron

No, Not on Jazz's watch this time. He wasn't going to run away, so he kicked down the door to enter the room and threw his Nunchucks, hitting the poisoned Enegon out of Decepticon servo, causing him to turn his helm over to Jazz.

“I won't recommend that with your enegon, con” spoked Jazz firmly as his nunchucks came back to his sevro like a boomerang.

Jazz expected the Decepticon to growl or hiss at his remake, but no, instead, Shockwave just let out a deep sigh like he was expecting this.

“... let's just get this over with,” exhaled Shockwave before lunging towards Jazz as the cyber ninja spun his nunchucks.

_____________________________________

Sentinel screeched and fell out of the passageway towards a large pile of garbage. He quickly tried to transform into vehicle mode; unfortunately, it was far too late as his faceplate crashed against all the empty and deposed cans of oils.

Damn it, was this his life now crushing into disgusting garbage piles? It was probably the most humiliating thing he had ever done in his life since he was covered from helm to aft in filth.

Whatever, he had no time to rant on how disgusting this was; he was on a mission, so with a brief “ew,” He got up on his feet before brushing himself off

He scanned around the area to find himself inside some kind of indoor landfill that was the shape of a spiral and had different passageways upon the walls; they were all spilling out garbage onto the ground.

Each was seen to be connected to many different garbage chutes of Fort Maximus; Sentinel could tell since different symbols above each passageway implied this.

Bingo. Find the symbol for the training grounds, and Sentinel will be home-free.

So the prime begins walking around looking for a symbol for training grounds, which he assumes to be a weapon. Unfortunately, all the symbols are different types of weapons.

“Scrap, whose bright idea was to make every symbol weapon related “ complained Sentinel to himself.

Sentinel was about to just choose at random when he bumped into something that made gurgling noises.. that almost sounded like a voice.

What the.. wait he recognized that voice...no way.

He looked down to find there was a blue familiar cube in front of him that was whimpering and grumbling.

No way.. right? That would be insane unless…

Sentinel put his servos under the cube and began turning around the cube slowly to different angles, only to widen his optics in horror to find Blurr’s faceplate there; Sentinel was so taken aback that he screeched a bit and almost dropped Blurr in shock but luckily caught him before he could hit the ground.

“What the!-” Yelped Sentinel not believing his optics. “Blurr, what the scrap happened to you!”

Blurr tried to respond, but unfortunately, his glossa was covered by his arm, and he was unable to move it away.

Ok, this wasn't going to work, so Sentinel scanned around the area to find anything to..uncube Blurr. Was that the right term?

Whatever. Sentinel didn't really care as keep scanning and walked around the area until he spotted two crawls popping out of the ground that were gently unfolding cube-like objects.

Bingo

“Huh, this might feel a little bit weird, “ warned Sentinel before giving Blurr to the claws on the ground.

Sentinel watched in somewhat surprise and horror as the claws unfolded Blurr from his cube back into his robot, from where he screamed a bit in pain before falling in a daze from the claws, yet Sentinel quickly caught him in his arms before he could hit against the ground.

Blurr's body was mostly covered in large dents and his left optics was completely gone, replaced with a large scar across his faceplate. It's almost a miracle that he is still alive as he pants heavily against Sentinel before finally speaking.

“Ok, 1, thank the all spark you found me, I thought I’d be stuck down here ever “ gasped Blurr slowly as he gripped Sentinel's shoulders,” and 2…. I’m pretty sure Longarms is the real Spy because he tried to kill me for bringing up Decepticon samples.”

“What!” Yelped Sentinel, almost now believing it until remembering that Coghead exposed him by using Elita's Journal “Wait a minute, that would explain why that scum exposed a.. heavily personal piece of information; he wanted to get me out the way!”

Sentinel couldn't believe this. All this time, he was chasing down Warp when Longarm was the real con that needed to be behind bars. That slippy snake was going to pay for all of this and Sentinel was going to make sure of it.

“Ha, just when you thought you could trust somebody…they just throw you in the trash like you’re nothing..” nervously laughed Blurr with a look of sadness on his faceplate. “I'm not sure if I can trust anybody anymore. “

Sentinel could relate a bit: After all, he has a major argument with Jazz. Longarm exposes Elita’s Journal, and worst of all, his commander reads that said Journal along with possibly the whole Autobot council.

“Pft, tell about it, “ huffed Sentinel, pulling away from Blurr to cross his arms and let out a heavy sigh.

“I guess we got something in common then “ nervously laughed Blurr again clutching his arm with his servo “Aside from being stuck on this..dump “

“Eh guess we do and worst of all I can't find that scrapping passageway to the training grounds to get out of here because of these fragging symbols, I mean it could be that one for all I know “ huffed Sentinel as he pulled away from Blurr and a point at a random passway that had a hammer symbol on it.

The mention of symbols caught Blurr's interest immediately as turn his helm over to where Sentinel was pointing to take a closer look.

“Wait a second, that the passway leads straight to Ultra Magnus's first office when he first took charge many cycles ago when he was still somewhat young, “ spoked Blurr with a look of recognition across his faceplate.

Sentinel stared at Blurr in surprise: that was a very ultra-specific detail that usually most cybertronians wouldn't remember at all.

“Wait, how do you know you know that, “ asked Sentinel, both confused and genuinely impressed.

“Oh huh, I took a brief historical class on symbols during my Academy days“ replied Blurr.

What do you know, History of all things might be the only thing to get them out of this situation and for them to stop Longarms.

“Blurr for the sake of Cybertron, do you know which one these passways lead the training grounds” yelped Sentinel grabbing both of Blurr's shoulders “So we get rid of that con scumbag once and for all”

Blurr looked a bit unsure at first; however, after scanning all the symbols on the right for a bit, he got a boost of confidence.

“You know what I think I can” smiled Blurr a bit before scanning the symbols on the left “It's that one, the spear was the first weapon forged on the grounds during the early days of the wars”

Blurr pointed over at the passageway that was on the very top on the left side of one of the many walls that have heights that were unreachable to most Cybertronians but not to Sentinel: he was a jet so quickly pulled away from Blurr and transformed into his vehicle mode.

“Wow impressive” gasped Blurr with his optics widening in wonder at Sentinel's jet form checking it out at every angle

“We, what are you waiting for? Get on. We got a planet to save, “ shouted Sentinel, so hyper-forced on finding the twins and kicking Longarm’s aft that he didn't even suck in the praise as he would usually do.

“Ok, I guess we're doing this now,” shrugged Blurr before jumping on top of Sentinel's vehicle mode, handing on top his wings. “Let's get out here”

Sentinel flew upwards towards the passway at lighting speed never stopping once

He kept flying upwards until…

SLAM

He slammed through a metal lid of a garbage chute, popping it off onto the floor, and landed down into a white room where he transformed back into his robot mode, landing on the ground as Blurr quickly jumped off him.

Sentinel left his helm in horror at what he saw in front of him: Jetfire and Jetstorm, heavily injured, back against a wall while crying as some kind of monstrous machine aimed a blaster at the two and shot a blue blast heading toward them.

Sentinel couldn't stand there with his tailpipe stuck in between his legs; he knew he needed to do something. NOW

“NOOOO! Screamed Sentinel, jumping in front of the twins without a second thought as he pulled out his shield to block the blast.

Blurr watched in astonishment as Sentinel primed with all the strength in spark; he was able to turn his tiny shield bigger than his whole body and used it to reflect the blast at the monstrous machine, knocking it against a wall in the haste of dusk, rubble, and debris.

Sentinel took a deep breath and turned around towards Jetfire and Jetstorm, who widened their optics in pure joy seeing Sentinel again.

“Jetfire, Jetstorm!” shouted Sentinel running towards the twins in nothing other than pure concern

“Sentinel! “ squealed Jetfire and Jetstorm with tears in their optics running towards their primes with open arms.

To Sentinel’s astonishment, the twins leaped at him and wrapped their arms around him; for an instant, he stood there at a loss at what to do; however, slowly, although a little hesitant, he found himself hugging them back.

“Don't you two dare scare me like that ever again!“ scowled and yet cried Sentinel at the same time holding the two close, never wanting to let go of them.

“We won't, sir,” sniffed Jetstorm and Jetfire in happy tears.

However, their happy reunion didn't last long since Blurr spotted a red helm popping out of the rubbles of the wall from where that monstrous machine crashed, so he quickly stepped in front of the three jets' protective stand.

“Everyone stay back; that thing is coming back! “ warned Blurr, putting his fists up, ready for battle.

Sentinel immediately took Blurr's warning seriously as he reluctantly quickly pulled out the hug and ushered the twins behind him for their safety before pulling out his shield along with his lance.

Sentinel and Blurr widened their optics in surprise to find that it was Alpha Trio pulling himself out of the rubble, looking feral and furious: he was that monstrous machine and it seemed like he was about to make his next attack.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Smokescreen is more like Orion Pax/Optimus Prime, and here's why I think this.

So, I know my post deconstructing Jack's informed "Prime-like" qualities is making the rounds, and seeing as I promised to do one with Smokescreen and how he is like Orion/Optimus, I feel now would be a good time to make good on that promise.

Buckle up and hang tight, especially since TF One will be mentioned as well for this post.

So, from what we know of Smokescreen in TFP, he was one of the last few cadets inducted into the Elite Guard. That right there tells us that the young 'Bot has raw potential, since not just anyone gets into the Elite Guard. By all accounts, he threw himself into the rigorous training and powered through to become well received, and made enough of a statement to become Alpha Trion's bodyguard. That right there takes talent, even if he did want to do his part and fight on the front line and beat Decepticon heads in. And yes, he was distraught to be relegated to Alpha Trion watch duty and yes, he was disappointed to not be out there in the thick of it fighting with his fellow Autobots for the greater good.

But he accepted it.

Not once was it mentioned that Smokescreen put in a transfer request for the front line of the War. He may have wanted to fight and, maybe, gain a little glory and be like the heroes he'd heard about, but it actually never got to his head, or his Spark. Instead, he rolled with what he had and came to genuinely enjoy a friendship with Alpha Trion, learning a lot from him as well. Smokescreen still took a chance to get in a fight, but he never went in without at least a rough outline of a plan, as evidenced by his debut episode and then again later on, even in the infamous episode where the team gets the Star Saber.

Speaking of, that episode shows us another of Smokescreen's great traits: his refusal to be intimidated by the Decepticons - including Megatron himself.

And the thing is, Smokescreen truly is fearless in front of Megatron in that episode. He's brought before the Lord of the Decepticons, surrounded on all sides with no escape, and is almost certainly seconds away from death or horrid torture. But what does he do when asked who he is?

Smokescreen smirks and sarcastically asks, "Why? Who wants to know?"

The boy nearly got backhanded into oblivion for that, and he still kept his scrap together! Put anyone else in that position, and some transmission fluid is seriously getting leaked.

Except, of course, for one 'Bot.

Optimus Prime.

This is where their similarities are shown first. Like Smokescreen, Orion/Optimus has tremendous talent that, at first raw, gets refined over time. While he is nowhere near as brash or reckless as Smokescreen started (outside of TF One), Optimus always wants to do his part, and throws himself into his work and dreams and gives it his all. He consistently comes out better and stronger from his trials, and doesn't fear Megatron or anyone else on the Decepticons' side, just like Smokescreen. Here, they're shown as similar, including with how they both stand up for what's right, and plant themselves in the ground and fight for what is good and greater than themselves.

Another similarity they share is how they accept their wrongs and don't shirk them onto another. While I have many reservations on his portrayal in TF One, the writers nailed Orion/Optimus when he takes full responsibility for the race when he and D-16 were met with Sentinel after the fact. Additionally, Orion/Optimus was always eager to make a point for the greater good and was willing to be an engine of change for others, no matter what. On the same token, while Smokescreen had a tendency to be overzealous in proving his worth to the team, he persistently pulled his own weight and, when it came to messing up, he always took full responsibility for his actions. He even went beyond that, often feeling so remorseful that he continually offered to leave the team if he was "unfit for [them]" (be honest with yourselves, Optimus at any point before becoming a Prime would do almost the exact same thing.) Furthermore, whenever he was being verbally attacked by another teammate, Smokescreen took it and didn't give crap back. Even when Vince threw that burger at his window, his payback was more on behalf of Jack's dignity than his own.

Just think about it: why would a human throw food at him specifically? It logically would have been directed at his passenger, a notion that's reinforced by Jack's desperation to hide from Vince's sight. And if you want to really get deep, compare it to Orion standing up to Darkwing for D-16 in the mines. Are both courses of action immature? Yes, but they're done on behalf of someone other than themselves. It's even shown again when Smokescreen defends Optimus' choice to destroy the Omega Lock against Ratchet. While this is the first time he's ever spoken up to someone on the team, it's in defense of Optimus and pointing out that Ratchet has no place to read Optimus the riot act for a make-or-break decision in an already desperate situation that would have doomed millions to billions of more lives. Smokescreen had always stayed quiet and followed directives as well as he could without a word of complaint up until that moment, and the only reason he raised his hackles was because Ratchet was lamenting a loss that pales in comparison to the disaster that was averted [and was ultimately Ratchet's own fault for creating.]

This is the beauty of the similarities between Optimus and Smokescreen. Neither of them take particular offense when they themselves are attacked/ridiculed, but will fight tooth and nail for those they care about if you so much as say one nasty thing about their friends. They both hold fast to all that is good, want to help change the world/make it a better place, and are proactive about it. And while they both start out like high school jocks (I'm mostly thinking of G1 Orion Pax for this), they never let their abilities go to their head and make them think of themselves above others. Instead, they merely see their abilities as tools to help those around them: Optimus used his mind, eloquence with words, and physical power to kick off the change he wanted on Cybertron, while Smokescreen willingly offered his full array of skills and fresh power to aid Team Prime for the War effort and replenish their numbers.

These traits wonderfully show that Smokescreen is, in actuality, a worthy Prime for the future. He puts others before himself, he is active in helping those who need it, he runs into the fire when others run from it, and turns down a chance to become a Prime because he knows he doesn't have the experience for it. This especially is important because it shows that while Smokescreen was a bit starry-eyed about war and ranks, he never wanted power.

He wanted to be an agent of good, just like Optimus.

And he was.

That's all I really have left to say. If you enjoyed this, I'm really happy. TFP Smokescreen is my second favorite character in, possibly, all of Transformers. I wish his potential for the Primacy wasn't slept on by so many fans in favor of Bumblebee, and that we could actually see him take up the Matrix after Optimus (preferably) retires to enjoy peace for once.

See you around people!

"Autobots, roll out!"

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

guys hear me out

tfo megop sleeping beauty au

so in this au, the primes are never killed and sentinel is essentially kicked out of Iacon for trying to betray them and team up with the Quintessons, and he makes a makeshift lair in the vast deserts on the surface of Cybertron while trying to brew up a plan of revenge.

Later on, the Thirteen Primes are thinking a little less about Sentinel, especially with the arrival of the newest Prime, a sparkling named Optimus. To celebrate they invited the entirety of Iacon including the High Guard to what’s basically Optimus’s first birthday, and Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave plan to gift the new Prime three individual presents at the event.

At the beginning of the celebration, Optimus is declared to be betrothed to D-16, a High Guard in Training, and both are to become sparkmates when they reach the proper age.

Soundwave, Shockwave, and Starscream give their presents, with Starscream blessing Optimus with strength and health, while Shockwave grants him beauty, both inside and out. But when it’s Soundwave’s turn to give his gift, the doors to the Palace of the Primes blast open, revealing Sentinel and Airachnid right by his side.

He pretends to be upset that the Primes didn’t invite him to see this oh-so precious sparkling, before cursing him with a terrible fate: to prick his digit on the sharp edge of a seemingly ordinary mining tool, and have his spark die out.

The Primes are shocked and angry when this happens, especially Alpha Trion, who protectively cradles Optimus in his arms as the sparkling wailed.

The High Guard try to attack Sentinel but he flies away while Airachnid trails behind him in her alt mode, the vengeful false Prime cackling menacingly.

The Thirteen Primes are incredibly worried and frantic, Alpha Trion still clutching Optimus Prime as tightly as possible.

There was a panic set in the room, Iaconian civilians terrified of the encounter, while the High Guard were still in their fighting stances.

Soundwave analyzed the entire situation and then looked back at the sparkling crying, creating a solution that could possibly work to fend off Sentinel's awful curse.

He still presents his gift, but it's changed: his power isn't strong enough to completely overturn the curse but he's able to alter it, making Optimus fall asleep instead, only to wake up after receiving a true love's kiss.

Of course, that wasn't enough to deter the Primes' cautiousness, and they and the three High Guards devised a plan to make sure this curse never came to be; Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave would raise the child deep in the forests of Cybertron, naming him Orion Pax and keeping him safe until he passed the age of 16, and only then would he be brought to Iacon to live as Optimus Prime.

That also meant isolating the young Prime, something that became exceedingly difficult when Orion asked his three uncles why he couldn't meet other bots despite being allowed to explore the forests in front of him.

But little did Soundwave, Shockwave, and Starscream know, was that Orion met D-16 as a young bot and had become childhood friends with him in secret, something they'd find out with a nasty shock on Orion's 16th birthday.

@sentinelprimefanatic @sassycandypoetry

[animeaddict578]

Ok so there isn’t really a fully fleshed backstory for TFA Op in my knowledge other than he was kicked out of the Academy so I have a little au about him;

Op was born and raised on a colony planet with his creators being archivists where he inherited their love for history and knowledge for the truth.

The library the family were managing is founded by Alpha Trion but unbeknowst to him, the council—in their effort to cover up the truth of why the decepticons even exist in the first place—burned down the entire library.

But since that was a bit specific and a out of place given that Op’s family maintain the building perfectly, they just bombed the entire colony planet and noone batted an eye because it’s just a small colony planet that was very far from Cybertron.

Op lost both of his creators in the attack and managed to hide in a pile of dead bodies to sneak away and ride a cargo ship dealing with the corpses. Op hopped off on a neutral territory and started a new life.

Op then read datapads and found info about the council’s discrimination and torture against warframes which led to the creation of the decepticons, which were revealed to be revolutionaries fighting against the council’s misdeeds.

Op hopped from one job to another to make ends meet and saved just enough to travel to Cybertron where he then joins the academy to find out why the council destroyed his homeworld and possibly even sabotage them from the inside but Archa 7 happens.

To anyone reading this and figured out what this is then yes his backstory is based off of Nico Robin’s backstory with a dash of Law’s. If this were to happen to canon then Op wouldn’t harbor any hatred to Megatron since he understands where they are coming from even if he doesn’t entirely agree to his methods.

Typing this out now, I kinda want a little something to happen;

Op was in a meeting with Sentinel Magnus along with the Council, discussing about Meg’s fate. Everyone wants Megs to be executed and the method is what they were debating, each method getting more and more sinister and disturbing.

Op is disgusted that they call themselves righteous when they want to torture a mech infront of live cameras for all mechas to see. He made up his mind.

When the council sent Op to Trypticon prison to escort the Decepticons to their executions, Op broke everyone out, especially Megatron. All of them were able to escape to Chaar except for Op who stayed behind to stall the Elite Guard long enough for the Decepticons to use a spacebridge to leave the border.

Op was arrested and was sent to be executed for treason against the Autobots. Op’s team reached out to Megatron to cooperate with them to break Op out.

“Little prime, you sacrificed yourself for the Autobots ever since I met you. Yet you disobeyed the Council’s orders and released me. For once you have chosen for yourself. Now tell me what do you want!” Megatron shouted for all to hear especially for one specific dissenter.

Optimus went deep in thought

‘What I want?…All my life I thought I didn’t deserve anything. Everything I had was ripped away from me, my creators, my old friends, my life at the academy. But now I have mechs that care for me even with my flaws, even when I’m not perfect.’

‘I may not be able to get what I want even now but atleast I be selfish and say what I want…one last time’

“I WANT TO LIVE! TAKE ME WITH YOU! TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE!”

[cozzzynook]

Can I get Murderbot Bee in TFOne and the team finding out?

Mild spoilers

Murderbot bee being dumped into the 50th sub level because Sentinel Prime had him do a lot of dirty work.

He enlisted Bee to kill off any of the bots who dared speak out against his name and his rule. Those who questioned his story on what happened to the primes and poked the holes in his lies.

Bee murdered them. He murdered all of them.

Alongside Airachnid, Bee killed many civilians and the leftover high guard who learned or knew the truth.

Airachnid is completely guilty of her crimes.

But Bee is innocent in the fact he was only a young sparkling when he committed these acts.

In fact he’s still a sparkling when they find him.

He was a sparkling solider.

One Sentinel picked from the last remaining sparkling centers before the energon falls dried up and reproduction stopped completely.

He took out Bee’s cog and would only allow him to use it when murdering for him.

The constant removal shorted out so many important circuits and components in Bee that it stunted his growth and affected his memory.

It was only made worse when his goal was completed and Sentinel decided he didn’t need a dysfunctional sparkling or proof of his misdeeds running around.

So he threw Bee to sub level 50 with a false promise to come get him in a few days or weeks and just never went back. In fact he forgot about Bee and assumed the sparkling died or smelted himself on accident with the trash.

Bee was down there all that time awaiting orders until eventually he forgot everything and went a little crazy from being alone so long.

Thankfully D-16 & Orion find him when they’re thrown down to level 50.

Of course they question why he’s so tiny and upon remembering the archives and the stories older miners told they realize this is a sparkling.

This is the first push to D-16 becoming Megatron actually and a pretty big one the moment Bee stumbles while walking on pedes too big for him and holds his finger while looking up at him with his helm turned to the side and his little head ears flicking.

Its the push Orion needs to become a leader and they both escape the sub level after eventually stumbling upon the call from Alpha Trion.

Of course the events happen somewhat the same but instead they have a sparkling with them and are a bit more careful about things.

The former high guard aren’t as violent in the presence of a traumatized sparkling and Alpha Trion has more steam in him at the sight of Bee and knowing he was basically cog tortured.

Bee cried really hard after receiving his cog and it took Orion and d-16 a long time to calm him down.

Poor Bee doesn’t know any of the high command thats still living but he does have flashes of memory come back as he sees holo pictures of the mechs and femmes he’s killed.

The high guard is familiar with sparkling soldiers and they can begin to see whats going on as Bee begins to fuss and cry.

The majority don’t blame him and those that do are really just overcome with grief at the loss of their missing loved one.

They know Bee isn’t at fault.

They just have more reason to hunt Sentinel down and kill him.

So this time, when Megatron kills Sentinel, Optimus doesn’t banish him.

He asks Megatron if he can destroy their home, the home Bee never got to see. The home they can now finally explore, together.

Megatron still has anger and hatred in his spark that needs tending.

But he doesn’t become a tyrant.

He becomes the freedom fighter instead.

[koyagifs]

and i'll pray

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing:: ot8 x reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre:: angst | ᝰ.ᐟ au:: valorant ᝰ.ᐟ synopsis:: it was supposed to be a simple mission, defuse the spike and return back to base. ᝰ.ᐟ word count:: 4.1k ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s):: inaccurate valorant lore, guns, death, description of pain. mxm, fxm. a quick rundown on who is who: sage is yn, sage is a healer. hongjoong is brimstone, he’s the leader of the team and is a controller. seonghwa is reyna, a duelist meaning he will always enter site. yunho is chamber, a sentinel. wooyoung is raze, another duelist. san is killjoy, a sentinel and helps control the site. yeosang is fade, an initiator and has the power to show people’s fear. mingi is phoenix, a duelist and has fire powers. jongho is iso, another duelist but has sharp aim. ᝰ.ᐟ highly recommend listening to ego while reading for a better experience.

walking down the only road, that's available

Gunfire echoed through the empty streets, the clash between alphas and their omega counterparts raging beneath a curtain of relentless rain.

A sudden, agonizing cry tore through the chaos—sharp and raw.

Hongjoong's head snapped toward the sound. Without hesitation, he pulled out his pad, smoke hissing as it deployed around him. His eyes locked onto the source: San, collapsed on the ground, one hand pressed against his chest, blood seeping through his fingers.

Wooyoung was already there, kneeling beside him, tears welling in his eyes.

"FALL BACK!" Hongjoong’s voice roared over the gunfire as he charged toward them.

Mingi and Seonghwa continued to fire, holding the line as the jet descended behind them, engines screaming through the storm.

Inside, Yeosang and Jongho extended their arms, ready to pull their wounded teammate aboard. Their faces were stone, unreadable. The jet quick to be in the air and beginning their flight to the team base.

the only person i see, is everybody else but you

San let out a sharp, painful cry, his head turning slowly to the side.

His eyes landed on Wooyoung, who hovered anxiously over him, face etched with worry and relief. He saw Wooyoung's face above him, lips moving, but the words didn’t reach him.

Seonghwa stood nearby, his gaze heavy with concern, silently watching San’s every movement.

Hongjoong’s eyes were fixed on San, but his expression was blank—numb, as if trying to process the fragile reality before him.

The room was thick with tension, each breath weighted by fear and hope intertwined.

trynna get a one way ticket, but somethings missing

San felt like he was suspended in water—floating somewhere between life and whatever waited beyond.

His body felt impossibly light, yet unbearably heavy. Each breath was a struggle, his chest tight, his limbs distant, as though they didn’t belong to him anymore.

His vision flickered in and out—blurry shapes giving way to sharp bursts of memory.

Laughter. Lights. Wooyoung’s hand in his.

He saw them again—on stage, bathed in golden light, the roar of the crowd a distant echo in his ears. His members beside him, alive, vibrant, hearts beating in time with the music.

Then—

A kiss. Soft. Familiar.

Wooyoung’s lips ghosting over his, full of promises they never had time to keep.

A thumb brushing his cheek. Fingers threading through his hair. Lingering touches in quiet corners, far from the eyes of the world.

San’s heart ached.

His body remained still, but his soul surged forward—grasping, reaching.

He wasn’t ready to let go.

Not of them.

Not of him.

i'm on my knees, lord please. lord save me

San let out a choked cough, the sound wet and fragile. Blood smeared his lips as Wooyoung cradled him, arms trembling with fear.

San’s vision blurred, colors bleeding into each other, the world around him fading into static. His hearing dimmed, like he was slipping underwater.

“San—” Wooyoung’s voice cracked, panic clawing at his throat.

San’s eyes fluttered—then rolled back. His lids shut.

“No. No, no, no—”

Wooyoung’s voice broke as he shook him gently, desperately, trying to will him awake.

Seonghwa turned away, unable to bear the sight, shoulders stiff with silent grief.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched so tightly it trembled, his nails digging into his palms as he stared, frozen, broken.

come home, come here.

Blood stained Wooyoung’s hands, warm and terrifyingly real, as he held San close.

San’s lips moved—silent, trembling—trying to form words that refused to come.

His fingers clutched at Wooyoung’s collar with what little strength he had left, desperate, clinging to him like he was the last thread tying him to the world.

“San—hey, hey, stay with me,” Wooyoung whispered, voice breaking, eyes wild with fear.

Hongjoong dropped to his knees beside them, his composure shattering.

“San,” he called, his voice cracking, barely above a whisper, “please.”

San let out a ragged cough, pain ripping through his fragile body. Blood coated his lips again as he gasped for breath.

Wooyoung tightened his hold, steadying him, his own chest heaving.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, forehead pressed to San’s. “I’m right here.”

His lips trembled, his voice barely holding. Then, through the shimmer of tears, he glanced sideways.

Hongjoong was holding San’s other hand, his head bowed, expression carved in grief. He gave San’s hand a firm squeeze—silent, steady, trying to pass strength through his touch.

come out and let me breathe. oh, let me breathe now

Mingi slightly slammed his head at the hatch, gaze drifting downward—toward the city below. A sight that made his heart squeeze as the billboard stared a him.

The jet moving with grace as it haunted him.

There, on a the rooftop, an old billboard stood.

Faded. Torn.

A memory of another life.

A promotional poster from before the First Light.

Back when they were just idols.

His vision blurred for a second, not from rain, but memory.

come home, come here come out and let me breathe. let me breathe

He was back in their old dorm, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor. The carpet was worn, the couch sagged in the middle, but it had been home.

Yunho sat beside him, eyes narrowed in concentration, gripping his controller like his life depended on it.

They were neck and neck in Mario Party, the tension thick between them as Mingi snagged the final star—his victory assured.

“YES!” Mingi shouted, jumping up in triumph. “Eat it, Yunho!”

But before Yunho could retaliate with his usual banter, both of them froze.

Bright lights flashed through the thin dorm curtains—white, sterile, unfamiliar.

They exchanged a look. The game was forgotten.

Outside, the world was already changing.

They didn’t know it yet, but that was the night the First Light began.

That was the night the idols died—and something else took their place.

i pray that my jealousy dont turn into evil

Seonghwa stood with you at the edge of the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore as the wind tugged softly at your clothes. His hand was wrapped around yours, fingers tightly interlocked like he was afraid to let go.

The sky above was breathtaking—washed in streaks of pink and violet, the colors of a fading day. Radiant light spilled across the horizon, casting a soft glow over your faces.

For a moment, it felt like time had stilled.

But then—

Your grip faltered.

“Yn?” Seonghwa turned to you, concern already creeping into his voice.

You swayed slightly before collapsing, your body crumpling to the sand.

“Yn!”

Seonghwa dropped to his knees beside you, his arms instantly around you. Panic surged through him as he held your unmoving form, his breath catching in his throat.

The beauty of the sky faded into the background.

All he could focus on was you.

and i pray, that the world doesn't shake up my ego

Seonghwa turned his gaze away, unable to watch any longer.

His jaw clenched, a storm of grief and guilt threatening to collapse in on him.

The weight of it all—the blood, the fear, the fragile thread San clung to—pressed down like lead on his chest.

But it wasn’t just that.

His heart twisted as another wound ached quietly in the background.

You.

His eyes dropped to his hand, to the ring he still wore—a promise made in softer times.

Now, it stared back at him like a cruel joke. A symbol of something broken.

Something lost.

Behind him, Hongjoong leaned heavily against the wall of the jet.

His breath was shallow, shaky—his body trembling with everything he refused to say aloud.

His hand curled into a tight fist, nails biting into skin.

Then—finally—his knees buckled.

He sank to the floor, shoulders shaking in silence.

As his body hit the cold metal with a soft thud, a memory surged forward, uninvited.

i pray, that my jealousy dont turn into evil

The blinding lights of a concert stage. The roar of a crowd screaming their names. The thunder of their hearts in sync.

He was bowing, arms linked with his members, sweat-soaked and smiling through the exhaustion.

San was beside him—on his right.

Grinning, glowing, alive.

Their fingers were interlocked, raised in unity as camera flashes burst like fireworks around them.

They were just boys then. Dreamers. Stars.

Now—

Hongjoong blinked, breath catching in his throat as the memory shattered.

The cheers were gone.

and i pray, that the world doesn't shake up my ego

The only sound now was the hum of the jet and what was the staggering breathe of San, now stood silence.

He looked up through glassy eyes and saw Wooyoung still holding San’s body, trembling.

Seonghwa hadn’t moved. He couldn’t.

And somewhere inside them all, that stage—the one they once stood on like gods—was burning.

my ego

Wooyoung stared at San’s now lifeless body, his mind blank, body frozen.

His hands—shaking, soaked in San’s blood—rested on his chest like he could still will his heart to beat again. But it was quiet now. Too quiet.

The silence screamed louder than the gunfire ever had.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

His eyes drifted to the wall, but he wasn’t really seeing it. He was seeing him.

that the world doesn't shake up my ego

San, laughing until he fell off the couch. San, kicking his feet in excitement over a midnight snack. San, pulling Wooyoung close under the blanket during storms.

A sob clawed its way out of Wooyoung’s throat as a memory slammed into him without warning—

They were in a quiet studio, the low buzz of a tattoo needle still echoing faintly in the air.

Wooyoung sat there, the skin on his knee red and tender. Beside him, San grinned—bright, proud, a little smug.

They both stared at the ink, freshly etched into their skin. A matching symbol. A quiet promise.

“Looks good on you,” San said, voice teasing but soft.

Wooyoung smirked, eyes twinkling as he nudged him with his elbow. “Told you I’d do it first.”

San rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, but the smile on his face was everything. He stepped forward, patting Wooyoung’s shoulder gently—then without hesitation, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m stuck with you now,” San whispered against his hair.

“You always were,” Wooyoung replied, burying his face into his friend’s neck, holding on just a little longer than he needed to.

heaven heaven sent you, but i am broken... why?

Wooyoung’s hands pressed firmly over San’s chest, trembling with effort.

His body shook with each shallow breath he managed, the adrenaline wearing off and the terror setting in like ice beneath his skin.

His throat burned—raw from screaming, from sobbing, from calling San’s name again and again until his voice fractured into silence.

At last, he collapsed forward, laying his head gently on San’s chest.

He nestled in close, as if proximity alone could hold San’s soul in place.

The scent of blood clung thick in the air, metallic and suffocating. But Wooyoung forced himself to breathe deeper, searching for something—anything—that still smelled like San.

His San.

Jasmine shampoo. Fabric softener. The warmth of skin that used to radiate with laughter.

His arms wrapped tighter around him, clutching not just a broken body, but the memories between them. The stolen kisses, the quiet nights, the promise.

“Please come back,” he whispered, voice hoarse and breaking. “I—I don’t know how to do this without you.”

And still, he waited.

Clinging.

Hoping.

Refusing to let go.

cry every night when i think about, how much i'm losing

The jet began its descent, rain streaking across the windows like the sky itself was mourning.

Inside, silence clung to the air—thick, heavy, reverent.

Hongjoong held San in his arms, cradling him with a tenderness that defied the chaos they had just escaped. Every movement was careful, as if one wrong breath would shatter what little hope remained.

As soon as the jet hovered close enough to the ground, he jumped.

His boots slammed into the wet earth with a jarring thud, knees nearly buckling—not just from San’s weight, but from the ache pressing into his bones. The grief. The guilt. The unspoken fear.

Then his eyes found you.

You were already walking toward them, soaked to the bone, but steady. Purposeful. Like the storm couldn't touch you.

Like the world could fall apart around you, and you’d still come for him.

Behind Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Wooyoung followed in silence. Shadows moving through the storm, eyes trained on San—on you.

The rain poured harder, blurring the lines between tears and sky.

i put my life on it. i lost my life for it. i know that i've got nothing else to give so

Mingi remained in the jet, just steps from the hatch. But he didn’t move.

His shoulders slumped, head bowed, the storm soaking through his clothes. He stared out blankly until he felt a sudden tug on his sleeve.

He turned.

And his breath caught in his throat.

Yunho stood there, holding a Switch controller in one hand. His face calm, almost playful, like he always was before things went wrong.

But it was the outfit that froze Mingi in place—the hoodie, the cargo pants, even the wristband. The same clothes Yunho had worn that night.

The night of the First Light.

“Come on,” Yunho said, voice soft. “One more round.”

Mingi couldn’t answer. He couldn’t move.

The image before him blurred and flickered. His fingers curled into his palms as the memory took over.

They were back in the dorm, laughter echoing through the small space. Yunho sitting cross-legged on the floor, waving the controller with mock arrogance.

“You’re not catching up,” he grinned. “Just give up now.”

Mingi had laughed then—loud, free, unburdened.

But now, standing in the jet soaked in rain and silence, the memory felt like a knife.

He blinked, and Yunho was gone.

Only the controller lay where he’d been standing, resting quietly on the floor.

Mingi reached down with trembling fingers, picking it up like it was a relic from a world that no longer existed.

Behind him, the door to the jet hissed open.

But for just a second longer, Mingi stood there—caught between the past and the present.

Wishing the rain could wash it all away.

come home, come here. come out and let me breathe

Flames engulfed him before he could scream.

Mingi reached out—desperate—for Yunho, who stood just beyond the fire.

Unmoving. Expressionless.

His eyes held no recognition. No warmth. Only silence.

“Yunho!” Mingi choked, stumbling forward, but the heat licked up his arms like it had a mind of its own.

He looked down.

Fire. Crawling over his hands, twisting around his fingers, devouring him piece by piece.

His breath hitched. Panic surged.

“No, no—no!”

He tried to beat the flames down with his hands, but it was no use. The fire wasn’t around him.

It was in him.

come home, come here. come out and let me breathe. just let me breathe

His heart thundered as he turned in place, eyes darting wildly—

The building—their building—was collapsing in the distance, a blackened silhouette against an inferno sky.

What was once their home, their dorm, their sanctuary—was now a smoldering grave.

Screams tore through the chaos—employees, staff, voices he’d known, laughed with, shared meals and moments with.

Gone.

Sirens wailed. Firefighters rushed past him, blurred shapes in the storm of heat and smoke.

But no one saw him.

No one could.

Because he was the fire.

i pray, that my jealousy dont turn into evil.

The flames within him lashed out, fueled by grief, fear, rage. They whipped violently in every direction, sparks catching and rising like shattered stars.

His vision swam.

The world spun.

And through it all, Yunho still stood.

Unburned. Untouched. Watching.

“Mingi…”

Mingi fell to his knees, the fire roaring around him like a beast finally unleashed.

His scream tore from his chest—not just from pain, but from something far deeper. Rage. Guilt. Grief.

Across the flames, Yunho stood still, his figure blurred by heatwaves. His once warm brown eyes now shimmered gold—haunting, unnatural, and full of sorrow.

They both wept.

But neither moved.

Kingdom agents began to surround them, silhouettes in black armor descending through the smoke like reapers.

Their presence didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Mingi’s hands were charred, blistered from the power he couldn’t control, the power that destroyed everything he loved. He stared down at them in horror.

This wasn’t protection.

It was ruin.

He couldn’t feel the heat anymore—only the shame as it sank into his skin, as if trying to brand his guilt into bone.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, not sure if the words were meant for Yunho, or himself.

Yunho’s lips moved, but no sound reached him. Only tears rolled down his cheeks, mirroring Mingi’s.

And then—

He began to fade.

His form dissolved into light and ash, like a memory slipping through fingers that tried too hard to hold on.

But just before he vanished completely, Yunho’s hand reached out.

Shaking. Open. Grasping.

Mingi didn’t see it.

Didn’t feel it.

Too buried in the wreckage of his guilt to notice the one thing he still had left reaching back.

and i pray, that world doesnt shake up my ego

With each step you took, the ground beneath you shimmered—jade crystals blooming in your wake, pulsing softly with your energy. Rain hissed as it hit their surface, evaporating in wisps of steam.

Your palm rose, glowing with life. The jade swirled around your fingers like a storm contained, responding to the call of your power.

As you reached Hongjoong and San, the world around you shifted.

The blood, the rain, the pain—vanished.

i pray, that my jealousy don't turn into evil

San lay before you now, encased in luminous green crystal, fragile and beautiful like he had been sculpted by the earth itself.

A body waiting to be awakened.

Your eyes locked onto his. Still. Unmoving. But not lost. Not yet.

Your body moved on its own—muscle memory driven by instinct and desperation.

You dropped to your knees, breath trembling, and slammed your hand against the crystal with a guttural scream.

A blinding beam of light erupted from within San’s chest, shooting toward the sky like a flare.

Around you, the world responded.

and i pray, that the world doesn't shake up my ego

Creatures formed from the shadows—snarling, snapping, clawing their way into existence. Born of darkness, forged by the cost of power.

The price of a miracle.

The curse behind the gift.

But you didn’t flinch.

You didn’t move.

Your focus was unshakable, locked on San, on the delicate thread of life you refused to let slip away.

Wooyoung slid in beside you without a word, the heat of his presence anchoring you amidst the chaos.

His bucky roared with every shot, echoing like thunder across the battlefield. Each round turned a creature into smoke and ash, their twisted limbs disintegrating into nothingness.

A grenade danced between his fingers—effortless, familiar.

He tossed it high.

A heartbeat later, the night lit up in a kaleidoscope of color and fire, the explosion painting the shadows in bright, fleeting hues.

And still, you stayed rooted.

Your hand pressed to San. Your power surging.

Your body screaming.

But your heart—unyielding.

i pray

Hongjoong held the odin to one knee, the weight of the gun braced against it.

The roar of gunfire echoed through the storm-soaked air as he unleashed hell on the creatures charging toward him.

Shadow-born horrors screeched and lunged, their forms flickering like flame—but he didn’t waver.

A raw battle cry tore from his throat, fierce and unrelenting.

Each pull of the trigger was fueled by desperation. By purpose.

By the unspoken promise that he would not let them reach you.

He could feel the vibration of each shot in his bones, the kick of the weapon nearly numbing his knee—but he kept going.

One more second. One more breath. Just a little more time.

He would carve a path through hell itself if it meant you could bring San back.

And so he held the line—eyes blazing, heart hammering, the storm around him no match for the fire inside.

my ego

Seonghwa’s eyes burned with fury, glowing a deep, dangerous violet with every soul claimed.

The specter rested against his shoulder like an extension of his rage, pulsing with dark energy as it devoured the creatures that dared to come close.

Each pull of the trigger was precise—merciless.

He moved with practiced grace, a storm of vengeance cloaked in black, clearing a path around you with terrifying efficiency.

His jaw clenched tight, expression carved from stone, but the fire in his eyes told the truth—he was furious.

Not just at the monsters.

At the world. At fate. At the cruelty that nearly stole San from them.

At the toll this was taking on your body, felt it in every strained breath you drew.

that the world doesn't shake up my ego

Pain surged through your body like a storm—sharp, relentless, and unyielding.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as exhaustion clawed at the edges of your consciousness.

Every breath felt heavier than the last, every heartbeat echoing like a war drum inside your chest.

You could feel it happening—the crystals creeping along your skin, blooming like ice across your arms and collar.

Your gaze drifted to your hands, now pulsing with the unmistakable glow of your power.

Teal light shimmered in your palms, wild and unstable, dancing like lightning under your skin.

But you held on.

Because this was for him.

i pray

Mingi shot up, flames erupting across his body like a second skin.

His eyes locked onto the approaching horde, rage simmering beneath the surface until it cracked wide open.

A primal cry tore from his lips as he hurled a molly forward, the ball of flame spinning through the air before landing.

An eruption of fire swallowed the front line, casting monstrous silhouettes into a blaze of orange and gold.

But his mind wasn’t on the flames.

It was on Yunho.

On the memory that haunted him. On the hand that had reached for him through fire—and slipped away.

that the world doesn't shake up my ego

The beam of light flickered, sputtering with instability—the toll on your body now undeniable.

Your hands trembled as the energy surged, veins glowing faintly beneath your skin.

Still, you pushed harder.

Your eyes flickered—red to teal, teal to red—dancing on the edge of collapse.

The line between life and death blurred before you, whispering temptations in both directions.

The beam began to hum, low and deep, pulsing like a heartbeat not your own.

You hung your head, shoulders slumped as exhaustion wrapped around you like chains, threatening to drag you under.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you inhaled deeply, steadying yourself.

that the world doesn't shake up my ego

Your eyes snapped open, the teal glow blazing fiercely within them.

A desperate, hopeful scream tore from your lips as you poured every fragment of your strength into the jade crystal beneath your palm.

The beam flickered—wavering like a fragile candle in a storm—then steadied, blossoming into a brilliant circle of radiant light that wrapped around you and San.

A sudden boom cracked through the air, followed by a blinding surge of light that pulsed through the space.

In an instant, the scene shifted—now, you and San lay surrounded by everyone back at the hangar.

A sharp gasp broke the silence as San’s body shifted upward, Wooyoung immediately cupping his face.

Shock and relief crashed over Wooyoung, tears spilling freely down his cheeks.

He pressed gentle, desperate kisses to San’s skin—soft touches heavy with unspoken promises.

San’s fingers twitched weakly but steadily, resting lightly on Wooyoung’s waist.

Their foreheads met, and San offered a fragile, faint smile—small but unmistakably alive.

Nearby, Seonghwa stood silently by your side, his expression weighed down with worry.

Your body trembled uncontrollably, fingers shaking as they brushed against the faint jade crystals forming along your neck.

You closed your eyes, willing your breath to slow, to steady.

Seonghwa’s hand settled gently but firmly on your shoulder—an unspoken anchor amid the chaos.

But you turned away, your free hand reaching out to create space between you.

Seonghwa’s gaze faltered, pain flickering in his eyes—hurt that you kept pushing him away, even when he wanted nothing more than to be near.

Hongjoong sank to his knees, tears streaming freely down his face as the weight of the moment crushed him.

Mingi’s gaze swept over the scene, his expression hardening with quiet resolve.

His eyes found Jongho and Yeosang standing vigil by the jet—silent, steadfast.

A subtle nod passed between them—no words needed, just understanding.

Mingi returned the gesture, then shifted his gaze to the taller man approaching the group.

The golden hue in the man’s eyes shone brightly, making Mingi’s stomach flip with a mix of dread and recognition.

that the world doesn't shake up my ego

taglist: @soso59love-blog @yeosionist @bbokarismeow @moonlitcelestial @sunnysidesins

[tyriq-edits]

I do have an idea for a TFOne MegOp Snow White AU you can use: Basically D-16 is Snow White but it's because Sentinel takes him to the Prime Palace (what I call the home of the Primes), and gives him a glass of Energon that's like the poisoned apple, causing him to go into a seemingly eternal slumber.

About everything else from the movie still happens, but without D-16.

I also think Alpha Trion would survive because he would join the team and be able to calm the High Guard from capturing the trio.

The ending would also be different. Alpha Trion and Orion would be the ones captured while Elita and B-127 would have led the High Guard to rescue them.

The fight scene still happens, and I think Sentinel would be the one to shoot, maybe at B-127, and Orion would still get in the way. B-127 would be DESPERATELY hanging onto a dying Orion, not wanting to lose one of the first REAL friends he's ever made, but ORION is the one that lets go of his hand, not wanting to drag him down with him.

B-127, out of anger, pulls out his knife hands, wildly slicing at Sentinel but only being able to cut his wings off.

Orion still becomes Optimus Prime, and he appears behind B-127, holding his arms to calm him down, and it works.

Instead of being deactivated, Optimus simply takes Megatronus' T-Cog out of Sentinel's chest, forcing him to de-transform into a cogless version of himself, and he is put on trial. Before he is taken away, Optimus asks Sentinel where D-16 has been this whole time. Sentinel simply nods to the Tower, telling him to find out himself.

During the aftermath, Optimus looks inside all of the rooms of the recently repaired Tower, and the last door he opens leads to the room of the peacefully sleeping D-16. Optimus enters the room and sits on the side of the bed, telling D-16 how much he missed him and was glad to finally come back to him. He then leans down and kisses D-16 on the lips.

When Optimus starts to leave, D-16's optics turn on, and he lets out a yawn.

Hi there! I have replied to you in your DMs a few days ago already regarding this ask given tumblr did not want to let me reply to it directly until now. Finally i can do so now and just like i had told you in the DMs, I ADORE this idea for a snow white AU a lot and people deserve to see it! I might make a Moodboard for it someday too if you'd want to. But that is completely up to you given it's your idea afterall.

[theangrycomet-art]

Trying to explain why naming your new "Protectors of Cybertron" after a group of revolutionists took out one magnus and erased a good chunk of the planets history under the orders of another is a terrible idea.

---

With Sentinel being promoted to Magnus, a new head of elite guard had to be picked.

Jazz WOULD have been the next pick but with him dipping out to spend more time on Earth for who knows how long, the slots left open.

Only problem? None of the Elite Guard want it. Few were willing to work directly under Sentinel when he was the top Prime, but now as acting Magnus? Being at his beck and call 24/7 is a nightmare position- promotion be damned.

Elita ends up drawing the short straw here (she swears Warpath rigged it), and Sentinel was all for it. Besides her extreme competence, Elita's connections to Alpha Trion can help him keep the old rustbucket in line.

Their team up is a strangely effective one, despite the nonstop bickering.

COMMISSIONS OPENED:

[nhoeer]

Alright, here SGTFone Idea.

I know the concept of Shattered Glass was turning some existing character into their opposite, like Starscream being so loyal toward Megatron or Soundwave being a hipster, but I think I want to make it with different approach where they still had the same attitude with their OG but had different origin causing their morality to changes into opposite direction, yet they still the same character if they evercross the OG universe.

So okay, Instead of being a miner. I like to think D16 and Orion to be a scholar trying to rank up into Manor ( TFA's Elite Guard rank ). Dee are expert with Math (Botcon SG origin) while Orion is expert with Archeology ( Bayverse Origin).

SG Orion is that crazy mech who really believe about the Evil primes and the propechy of the rising of the Thirteen. You could say he is very optimistic about it. He is still a trouble maker who like to break rule and sneak into Ruins and Historical site to studies the past.

SG D16 is still a hard and discipline student who like to stick with the protocol, he always the one who has to save Orion from getting kicked out of the university.

SG Darkwing would be like that teacher who dislike kids and questioning why he was a teacher. He hates Orion because he always absent during class. Oh he is also a Gladiator.

The scene where Orion give the limited Megatronus Prime sticker because it was Dee's biggest Idol will be replaced into SG Orion giving Dee a charm of good luck resemble Megatronus Prime since (according to his research he is the embodiment of entropy). SG Dee doesn't really excited about the mystism but get along with it since he respected Orion so much.

Instead of SG Sentinel, the ruler of Iacon will be replaced by SG Alpha Trion, the head of Iacon Archives. He has a little secret kept hidden from everyone. He is the reason why Dee always studying hard to earn his attention.

Okay the cave scene in the OG was a lil bit tricky, should I replace Elita with Starscream and the rest of miner/guardian vice virsa, or keep them as they are.. idk. But this scene in SG would be about a fire accident occuring after chemist class and caused one bot to be trapped. Orion and Dee try to save the bot, but it caused Elita/Starscream to be demoted from their rank from neglecting the safety of his colleague.

Maybe I should continue this later after I figure out wether to keep Elita or Starscream to the team 🤔.

[hoperiley]

Silvia "Ocelot" Chavez-Parra

[tm-trx]

Pit Babe 2, ep 5

Live Reactions:

(warning: may will contain inconsistent punctuation/capitalization, stream of consciousness, and rampant speculation)

Kim is NOT happy about Kenta snooping around looking for Tony’s lair

aw Babe’s so happy to show off his ring

so everyone's using the scooters now; still such a weird visual with fully suited up race car drivers

uh oh that didn’t go over well

Well this is frustrating - there are feelings on both sides and yet neither is willing to break the stalemate and move past friendship.

you’re not fooling anyone Pete lol

yet another suspicious reaction from Chris that probably means nothing

family cookout - so domestic - I love it.

Why does this whole ‘Alan’s old and creaky’ feel like both a PSA and foreshadowing at the same time.

yay more racing

that’s a new one: give up your boyfriend and i’ll let you win first place

Did that asshole really brake to give Babe the win??

Chris’s turn to seduce Pete now?

What just happened?! is Pete a touch telepath now? what’d he see?

I mean yes Chris is right, sometimes it’s okay to just keep things physical; but not sure it’s the best thing for Pete in this situation.

What’re you looking for Chris? and what did you find?

Come on Charlie, how do you stay cold in front of that cute little face?

nice; Kim to the rescue

so Kenta’s not the secret operator then

one-sided love sucks rocks

not sure instagram is the most reliable source for investigating secret special senses but okay

how is Willy falling for this - hah nice he’s not

oh. shit.

and of course that’s when Charlie walks in

Final Thoughts:

current Tony Mole count:

Willy (still the likeliest candidate)

Chris (I know it's more likely that he's Way's brother, but he could still be in deep cover, so he stays on the list)

Tony making an army of enhanced Alphas is kind of terrifying. It’s the next step up from what he was doing before. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got military contacts waiting for him to succeed. This whole plotline smacks of old skool The Sentinel fic and I am here for it.

Are the Sonic/North fans happy with the developments or frustrated? I’m not super invested in them and I was frustrated.

Pete and Chris are in a workplace romance novel and I’m loving it. I need to know what that was when Pete touched him. And what was Chris looking for on Pete’s computer? It looked like he found the profiles of the kids Tony stole. So maybe he was looking for information about Way? That would support the “Chris is Way’s brother” theory.

I was so confused about how Pete had the chemical already, when he’d literally just asked Chris to look into it, and then I realized I missed a line. Now Kenta going to that specific company of Tony’s makes sense.

On the one hand, Charlie needs to work through his jealousy issues on his own; it’s not Babe’s responsibility to constantly reassure him. On the other hand, Babe’s erring on the side of caution a bit too much when it comes to what he’s telling Charlie. I’m always going to prefer couples teaming up against an outside force over this. That said, I can’t help loving possessive!Charlie when he sees Willy.

Was Kim shadowing Kenta on the sly the whole time or was he the getaway driver that got left behind? I loved the way that whole scene was filmed. The spin! So dynamic.

So that last scene. oof. I had a feeling the show would go there. The way Pavel delivered that “Charlie” line was perfect and gave me chills.

Will this week be the week I finally go back and rewatch season one? Tune in next week to find out!

My Pit Babe 2 recaps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

[cscorvid]

Mine

Nikolai x (afab)!Reader > Does include smut > ABO elements > 3598 word count

The bar had been packed the moment Chimera stepped through the door. The heavy bass thumped through the floor, vibrations crawling up your legs as the low hum of conversation mingled with laughter and the clink of glasses. The team had settled into their usual rhythm, jokes flying, rounds passed around without question. Camaraderie and exhaustion bled together as they unwound after a brutal op. One by one, the others peeled off, disappearing into the crowd to chase whatever distractions the night had to offer.

But not Nikolai. He stayed rooted in place, a silent sentinel in the corner, nursing a drink that had long since gone warm. His dark eyes never strayed far from you. Watching. Waiting. Guarding.

You.

You were radiant tonight, confidence dripping from every step, every flick of your wrist as you tipped back another drink. The flush on your cheeks was from more than just alcohol. You were enjoying yourself, but Nik saw beneath the surface. He always did. The slight tension in your shoulders when someone got too close. The tight smile that didn’t reach your eyes when an unfamiliar alpha lingered too long.

And fuck, was it happening too often.

Every time another alpha or beta dared to hover, brushing too close, testing boundaries they had no business crossing, Nikolai’s grip on his glass would tighten. Jaw clenched. Muscles coiled. His patience was hanging by a thread. He didn’t move. Not yet. You could handle yourself, and he wouldn’t steal that from you.

But his body spoke a different language, one primed for violence if necessary.

And then… it happened. A hand. Too bold. Too fucking familiar.

An alpha who didn’t know when to take no for an answer. You had already turned them down, polite but firm, but they weren’t listening. Their hand brushed over your wrist, fingers curling possessively.

Nikolai’s glass cracked before he even realized it.Shards bit into his palm, but the dull sting barely registered. Blood dripped slowly from between his fingers, but it was nothing compared to the fire simmering beneath the surface.

The alpha had touched you.

A mistake they wouldn’t live to regret.

Nikolai didn’t think. He moved.

Silent. Lethal. Predatory.

And God help the bastard who thought they could put their hands on what was his.

The world blurred as Nikolai stood, the noise of the bar fading into a distant hum. His movements were smooth, too smooth for a man his size. Every step was precise, calculated, like a predator closing in on unsuspecting prey. The alpha still had his hand on you, fingers tightening, oblivious to the hurricane about to descend on him.

You were tense. Your body was a coiled spring, poised to act, but Nikolai saw the flicker in your eyes, the calculation, the silent weighing of consequences if this turned into a scene. You were ready to shut it down yourself.

But you didn’t have to. Not tonight. Not when Nikolai was already moving.

“Let go.”

The words were quiet, barely above a growl, but they cut through the noise like a blade. Cold. Deadly. Laced with enough alpha authority that even the most oblivious idiot would’ve known better.

But not this one.

The alpha barely turned his head, arrogance dripping from his posture. “Relax, man,” he slurred, grip tightening as if he had a fucking death wish. “We’re just talking.”

Nikolai’s lips curled into something that wasn’t a smile. A promise. Slow. Icy. Deadly.

“I wasn’t asking.”

Before the alpha could process the threat, Nikolai’s hand was already moving. One moment the bastard was standing, and the next? He was on his knees, gasping for air as Nikolai’s iron grip crushed his wrist, forcing him to let go of you. The sickening crack that followed was drowned out by the alpha’s pained grunt, but Nik barely noticed.

All he saw was you.

“Are you alright, lyubimaya?”

His voice was softer now, a stark contrast to the fury simmering just beneath the surface. His free hand brushed gently along your wrist where the alpha’s grip had been, eyes narrowing at the faint redness blooming there.

Your eyes met his, something unreadable swirling in their depths. You weren’t scared. Not of him. But there was something else, a mixture of relief, gratitude… and something darker.

Possession.

You felt it too.

“I’m fine, Nik,” you murmured, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Nikolai’s jaw clenched, but he nodded, his thumb sweeping over your skin one last time before turning his gaze back to the alpha still writhing on the floor.

“Leave.”

That one word, low, cold, and dripping with barely restrained violence, was enough to have the alpha scrambling back, nursing his injured wrist as he disappeared into the crowd.

But Nikolai wasn’t done.

“Come.”

It wasn’t an order. It was a request. An invitation.

But the weight behind it… the promise in his tone…

You didn’t hesitate.

As soon as you moved toward him, Nikolai’s hand found yours, his grip warm and steady, guiding you effortlessly through the crowd. The music pounded, the air thick with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and pheromones, but none of it mattered.

Not when you were this close.

He led you outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin like a balm. But Nikolai didn’t stop. His steps were purposeful, leading you down the dimly lit alley beside the bar.

Away from prying eyes. Away from the noise.

The moment you were far enough from the crowd, Nikolai turned.

You barely had time to catch your breath before your back was pressed against the cool brick wall, his body caging you in. But he didn’t touch you. Not yet.

“I told myself I would be patient…”

His voice was low, rough, barely restrained.His hands settled on either side of your head, boxing you in without making contact. But the heat radiating from him? It was suffocating.

“But you…” His eyes burned with unspoken desire, pupils blown wide with barely contained need. 

Your breath hitched.

“Watching them circle you…” Nikolai’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to your parted lips before snapping back to your eyes. “Touch you…”

A growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating through your bones.

Fuck.

The heat between you was palpable, the tension thick enough to drown in. And as Nikolai’s lips brushed against yours, just a whisper, a tease, you knew there was only one answer.

“Always you,” you breathed, the words barely audible.

But Nikolai heard.

And that was all he needed.

“Good.”

His mouth claimed yours, rough and demanding, his kiss a possession that left no doubt who you belonged to. His body pressed against yours, pinning you to the wall as his tongue teased yours, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Mine,” he growled against your mouth, the word vibrating through you.

His hands moved then, slow but purposeful, trailing down the curve of your waist before gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your jaw, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he inhaled deeply. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, lyubimaya?”

His teeth nipped just below your ear, drawing a gasp from your throat as heat pooled low in your belly.

“So fucking perfect…”

One of his hands dipped lower, fingers grazing the edge of your dress, teasing.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Please…don’t” Your voice was barely above a whisper, need thick in your tone.

Nikolai’s kiss deepened, teeth tugging at your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, a sound he swallowed greedily as his tongue slid against yours. His hands weren’t idle.

They never were.

One gripped your waist, keeping you pinned against the rough brick as if he was afraid you might slip away. The other? It skimmed lower, teasing along the hem of your dress, fingers brushing against bare skin with maddening restraint.

“You’re driving me insane, lyubimaya,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with hunger. His teeth grazed your jaw, nipping his way down the column of your neck, making your head tilt back to give him more access.

“Nik…” Your voice trembled, your body arching into his touch, desperate for more.

“Shh… I know,” he breathed, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. His teeth scraped there, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ve got you.”

But it wasn’t enough.

Not for him.

Not after watching alpha after alpha circle too close. Not after seeing their eyes linger where they had no fucking right.

You were his.

“Tell me, omega…” His voice was pure sin, a low rasp that sent heat straight to your core. His fingers dipped under your dress now, teasing the bare skin of your thigh, inching higher. “Did they make you feel like this? Hmm?”

His hand was so close, too close, but not where you needed him. Not yet.

“Nikolai…” You breathed his name, your head falling back against the wall as his lips dragged along the exposed line of your throat.

“Answer me.”

The command was soft, barely above a whisper, but it vibrated with alpha authority that sent a wave of heat through you, your body reacting instinctively.

“No,” you whimpered, legs trembling as his fingers brushed dangerously close to where you needed him most.

“No,” Nikolai echoed, satisfaction curling around the word like a predator savoring a kill. “They could never, could they?”

His fingers finally found their mark, sliding over the damp fabric between your legs. A low, satisfied growl rumbled deep in his chest as he felt just how wet you already were.

“Fuck, malyshka…” His head dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re soaked. Were you like this all night? Letting them look at you while you were dripping for me?”

Your hips rocked instinctively, seeking more of his touch, but he held you firmly against the wall, keeping you where he wanted.

“Nik, please…”

“Please, what?” His thumb pressed down, circling slowly, teasing you with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle. But he held you up, keeping you exactly where he wanted, helpless and at his mercy.

“Use your words, lyubimaya.”

Bastard.

But you were too far gone to care.

“I need you,” you breathed, voice trembling, eyes half-lidded with lust. “Please…”

A satisfied growl rumbled low in his throat, his mouth finding yours again in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. His fingers pushed aside the soaked fabric, sliding through your slick folds with ease.

“Fuck…” Nikolai groaned against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he teased you mercilessly. “So ready for me. Always so fucking perfect.”

His fingers circled your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp, your body arching into him as a wave of pleasure rolled through you.

“Is this what you needed, malyshka?”

“Y-Yes,” you breathed, your head falling back against the wall, lips parted as he worked you with maddening precision.

But it wasn’t enough.

“More… please…”

Nikolai’s dark eyes met yours, a dangerous gleam flashing in their depths.

“You’ll get more, Y/N,” he murmured, voice dripping with promise as he withdrew his hand, leaving you empty and aching.

You barely had time to whimper before he was turning you, pressing your front against the cool brick, his body caging you in from behind. His chest pressed against your back, heat radiating off him in waves as his lips found the shell of your ear.

“I’m going to give you what you need,” he rasped, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head, the other slipping beneath your dress, pushing it higher. “But not here. Not like this.”

His teeth grazed your earlobe, and you shivered as his breath ghosted over your skin.

“I want you in my bed.”

Fuck.

Your body clenched at the thought, anticipation making your skin burn. But Nikolai wasn’t done.

“I want you spread out for me… naked… dripping…” His teeth nipped at your neck, making you gasp. “And begging.”

“Nik…”

“Do you understand me?”

Barely.

Your mind was hazy, flooded with need, but you managed to nod, your breath hitching as his hand trailed down your thigh, a silent promise of what was to come.

“Good.”

But Nikolai wasn’t feeling patient tonight.

He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulled you from the alley, his pace relentless. His steps were purposeful, each stride fueled by the need burning between you both.

The ride back to his place was a blur, a haze of heated glances and barely restrained need. Nikolai’s jaw was clenched tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity that spoke volumes.

But the second you stepped inside his house…

The predator was unleashed.

Nikolai didn’t waste a second.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he had you pressed against it, his mouth crashing into yours with a hunger that made your knees go weak.

“I’ve been waiting for this all fucking night,” he growled against your lips, his hands already tugging at the hem of your dress, yanking it up and over your head.

Your dress hit the floor in a forgotten heap, and Nikolai’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, flushed, breathless, and so fucking ready.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “So perfect… and all mine.”

“Always,” you whispered, the words barely out before Nikolai’s mouth was on you again.

His hands were everywhere, trailing down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him so you could feel the hard, aching length of him pressing against your core.

“Bed. Now.”

It wasn’t a request.

But you didn’t need one.

Your body obeyed, instinct guiding you as you backed toward the bedroom, Nikolai following close behind. His eyes never left you, dark, intense, filled with the promise of what was to come.

And when your legs hit the edge of the bed, Nikolai was right there, crowding into your space, his hands gripping your hips as he pushed you down onto the mattress.

“Spread your legs for me, Malyshka,” he murmured, voice rough and dripping with need.

You did.

And the look in Nikolai’s eyes as he took in the sight of you, bare and waiting for him?

Pure fucking possession.

“You’re mine.”

And tonight?

He was going to remind you.

Nikolai’s gaze devoured you, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin as he knelt between your parted thighs. The heat radiating from him was suffocating, his body coiled so tight it was a wonder he hadn’t snapped already. But this? Seeing you laid out before him, bare and glistening with anticipation? It pushed him to the brink.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice husky with reverence as his hands smoothed up your thighs, thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin with a featherlight touch that had you trembling. “So wet for me… all night, wasn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching when his fingers ghosted over your core, barely skimming where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Nikolai’s jaw clenched, a low growl vibrating through his chest as he slid two fingers through your slick folds, parting them with agonizing slowness. The heat pooling low in your belly burned hotter, your body arching toward his touch, seeking more.

“Needy little thing,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit in a maddeningly slow rhythm that had you gasping. “They couldn’t give you this, could they? Couldn’t make you fall apart the way I do…”

“Never,” you gasped, hands fisting the sheets as he pressed just a little harder, teasing you right to the edge but refusing to let you fall.

“Good,” he rasped, leaning down, his lips brushing over the inside of your thigh, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. “Because this…” He pressed a kiss higher, his breath hot against your skin. “This is mine.”

His mouth replaced his fingers, and the first brush of his tongue had you gasping, your back arching as heat flooded through you. Nikolai growled against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core as his tongue teased and tasted, lapping up every drop of your arousal like a man starved.

“Fuck, Nik…” Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you tried to pull him closer, to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure building inside you.

But Nikolai had other plans.

He pinned your hips to the mattress, holding you still as he took his time, tongue flicking over your clit with devastating precision. He alternated between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that had your legs trembling, your body teetering on the edge.

“Patience, lyubimaya,” he murmured, the heat of his breath brushing over your soaked core, making you whimper. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release, but Nikolai wasn’t going to give it to you easily. His mouth worked you relentlessly, building you up only to pull back just before you could tumble over the edge.

“Please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as he dragged his tongue in slow, torturous circles.

“Please, what?” His tone was wicked, laced with amusement as he pressed a kiss to your swollen clit.

“Please… make me come…”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest, and this time, he didn’t hold back. His tongue flicked against your clit with purpose, two fingers slipping inside you with ease, curling just right to brush against that spot that had your vision going white.

The coil inside you snapped, and the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body arched off the bed, a strangled cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure consumed you, wave after wave dragging you under.

Nikolai didn’t stop.

He worked you through it, drawing out every last tremor until your body was boneless, trembling beneath him. Only then did he finally pull back, his lips glistening with your release as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with barely contained need.

But he wasn’t done.

“Turn over,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your body obeyed instinctively, even as your legs trembled with aftershocks. You barely had time to catch your breath before Nikolai was positioning you exactly where he wanted, on your hands and knees, back arched, presenting yourself to him like the omega you were.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands smoothing over the curve of your ass, squeezing possessively as he took in the sight of you. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, lyubimaya?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer.

The blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and your body clenched in anticipation, still sensitive but craving more.

“Tell me you want this,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back.

“Please, Nik,” you breathed, rocking your hips back against him, desperate for more. “I need you.”

“Good girl.”

He pushed inside, slow and deliberate, stretching you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. The burn was exquisite, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain that left you breathless.

“Fuck… so tight,” Nikolai groaned, his forehead resting against the back of your neck as he gave you a moment to adjust. “You take me so fucking well.”

“Move,” you whispered, your voice barely steady as you pushed back against him, desperate for more.

Nikolai didn’t make you wait.

He pulled back, almost all the way, before slamming back in with a force that had you gasping, your fingers digging into the sheets as he set a punishing pace.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the room, each thrust driving you higher, pushing you closer to the edge. Nikolai’s grip was bruising, his hands holding you exactly where he wanted you, claiming you in every possible way.

“Mine,” he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder as his cock drove deeper, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. “All fucking mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your body trembling as another orgasm began to build, the pressure coiling tight in your belly.

“Come for me, omega,” he growled, his pace relentless, his control hanging by a thread. “Let me feel it.”

The command sent you over the edge.

Your walls clenched around him, and a strangled moan tore from your throat as the orgasm hit you with devastating force. Nikolai followed a heartbeat later, a guttural groan vibrating against your skin as he buried himself deep, his release spilling inside you as he claimed you in the most primal way possible.

The world spun as you collapsed onto the bed, Nikolai following you down, his body covering yours as he held you close, his breath hot against your skin.

“Perfect,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his voice softer now, laced with contentment. “You’re perfect.”

Your body was spent, your mind hazy with satisfaction as you melted into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your back.

But even as exhaustion pulled you under, one thought echoed in the back of your mind.

You were his. And he had zero intentions of letting you go.

[grant-gold]

Ignition Point: The Rise of Jaxton

The Gold Team’s practice had just concluded, the setting sun painting the sky behind the bleachers in hues of molten gold. Light glanced off their mirror-finished kits, creating a collective halo. Grant, number 43, lingered near the back, wiping sweat from his brow. His heart still hammered a steady rhythm from a grueling session of defensive drills. He was built for this role – a quiet strength, a reliable presence. Not the flamboyant flair of Herc, nor the booming voice of Brody. But a bedrock. The unwavering foundation.

He’d never voice it, but he found a quiet satisfaction in being the background bro. Crisp passes. Impregnable blocks. Economy of words. His body spoke its own language of solid work.

But the comfortable rhythm of his existence fractured the night the fire erupted.

Act I: The Kindling

It began subtly – a faint, almost insignificant electrical snap from the corridor near the equipment room. Initially, it registered with no one. The team was riding the high of training’s end, a jostling naked mass heading for the showers, the air thick with the scent of muscle rub, locker room banter and the occasional flick of towels at bare butts. Then came the smoke. Delicate, sinuous tendrils unfurling from beneath the trophy room doors.

A sharp cry pierced the camaraderie. Voice's boomed, demanding towels to smother the growing flames. A ripple of panic spread through the group.

Grant didn’t hesitate.

His gaze locked onto the mascots. PDU-084 was steadily carrying a heavy crate of water bottles. Without a word, Grant surged past the thickening smoke, decisively taking the entire load from the drone’s firm grip. He sprinted headlong into the orange glow licking at the doorframe.

Muscles straining, he cracked bottle after bottle, dousing the nascent flames, smothering the sparking wires with discarded, sweaty football shirts. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t strategic. But within those frantic moments, the immediate threat was extinguished.

When the haze began to dissipate, the team wasn’t just looking at “Grant the defender” anymore. They were staring at a silent sentinel.

Act II: Forged in Flames

Later that week, the scent of smoke still clinging to his clothes, a faint rawness on his cheeks, Grant found himself standing in the echoing bay of the local firehouse. His boots, usually pristine, were still smudged with ash.

“I want to help,” he stated, his voice level, devoid of any need for dramatic emphasis. Just the plain truth.

He began volunteering. Weekends bled into weeknights. He subjected his already powerful physique to new demands – the weighted drag of hoses, the relentless climb of drill tower stairs, the suffocating embrace of heat in the training simulator. He developed an instinct for smoke, a premonition of danger that prickled his skin even before it became visible.

But something deeper was stirring within him...and it wasn't just from the feel of the gear he wore, which awakened different feelings in his groin.

A nascent presence.

When he donned the heavy bunker gear for the first time, a subtle shift occurred. The fire-resistant fabric felt less like a uniform and more like articulated armor. The mask, obscuring his familiar features, became a visor, a shield. And from a place he hadn’t known existed within himself, a new voice began to resonate. A new body emerged, growing and thickening in unexpected ways. New instincts.

A voice, lower in register. Undeniably confident. Possessing a heat akin to banked coals. And a body that filled out his uniform and stretched the stitching. A dominant, but protective Alpha. A different Bro.

Not Grant. But Jaxton.

Act III: The Emergent Persona

The transformation wasn’t instantaneous. Initially, Jaxton was simply the heightened version of Grant that emerged within the firehouse walls – shoulders squared, voice carrying a quiet authority, the rhythmic thud of his boots on the concrete floor a testament to his focused energy. But the persona began to bleed into other aspects of his life. Everyone noticed when the shift happened.

He started carrying that unwavering intensity onto the pitch. When the Golden HQ faced a surge of pressure, when the defensive line needed an impenetrable wall – Grant would subtly shift. The familiar gold jersey remained, but the team began to notice a peculiar trigger. In moments of escalating crisis, when a situation demanded immediate, decisive action, someone – often Brody, in his characteristic bluntness – would yell, “Hose me, Bro!”

The phrase, initially a locker room joke about Grant’s surprising effectiveness with the water bottles that fateful night, had become the unlikely key. However, the team soon realized the phrase alone wasn't enough. The full transformation into Jaxton required something more: a surge of adrenaline, fueled by a potent mix of intense emotion, or even sexual arousal. Whether it was the white-hot stress of a near-disaster, the raw, driving force of his protective instincts, or the electric charge of a situation that pushed his limits or awakened primal urges, the phrase acted as a catalyst, but the intensity was the spark.

Upon hearing it, and feeling that surge within him, a visible change would ripple through Grant. His quiet demeanor would sharpen. His eyes would gain a focused intensity. The unassuming #43 would bark concise commands, his dry wit cutting through tension, snatching stray equipment with effortless strength, treating every minor crisis with an almost bored competence.

“Fall back, brothers,” he’d murmur, hoisting a heavy equipment case as if it were weightless. “Jaxton’s got this.”

The change was a physical metamorphosis – a sudden growth spurt and shift in facial features – the effect was palpable. The transformation seemed to draw on something deep within Grant, a reservoir of raw power waiting to be unleashed.

When Jaxton stepped forward:

Visual, physical and mental states shifted.

The fabric of his jersey seemed to stretch tauter across his broadened chest.

His voice, though still measured, possessed a resonance that could carry down the longest corridor.

The Drones would fall silent, their optical sensors fixed on him in unquestioning obedience.

Even the swaggering Brody would pause in thought.

Act IV: Two Selves, One Flame

Grant never left. He was still the quiet one at practice. Still laced his boots without fanfare. But when things needed control—when the Golden HQ buzzed with panic or pressure—he would close his eyes, take a breath, and let Jaxton rise.

Sometimes the change was subtle—a squaring of his shoulders, the ghost of a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Other times, it was a full-blown eruption of Fire-warden mode, a flash of golden light momentarily obscuring Grant as Jaxton took over: his golden Firefighter gear seemed to materialize, turnout pants rustling with purpose, boots striking the ground with a resounding thud.

He became the heat. The hand on the hose. The calm in the chaos.

Epilogue: Guardian of Gold

No one dared question it anymore.

“Call Jaxton,” they’d whisper when the power flickered.

“Let Grant handle it,” others would nod—because they knew. The bro with #43 was more than muscle. He was a switch. A vessel, activated by a strange, almost comical plea and the fire of his own intense emotions.

A brother who carried both silence and fire inside him. Grant and Jaxton were one.

A defender who didn’t just protect the team—but ignited it. And when the sirens wailed, the smoke rolled thick or the locker room heat rose, the transformation would occur — Golden Bro Jaxton answered, not Golden Bro Grant. Every. Single. Time.

=================

The seemingly innocuous trigger phrase, "Hose me, Bro!", acts as the initial key, preparing Grant for his transformation. However, the full shift into Jaxton's form is only realized when this vocal cue coincides with a significant surge of adrenaline, fueled by the apex of intense emotion – be it the heightened stress of mortal danger or the peak of arousal – creating a dynamic link between Grant's emotional and physiological state and the emergence of his powerful alter ego.

==================

Ready to awaken that Fire inside you? Contact @brodygold or @goldenherc9 and bring out your inner Hero.

==================

Other Bros referenced: @polo-drone-084

[in1-nutshell]

Hi! I wanted to ask if you could write the TFA autobots and elite guard reacting to finding a batmobile Bubby on earth?

Bubby was lose during the war and is the around the same age as Ratchet and Ultra magnus. And maybe have a little romance with Ratchet.

Thanks! :)

This is something new! Batmobile Buddy it is! One of the best detectives on Cybertron! If this isn't what you want, please let me know.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy who's alt mode is a Batmobile with Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, Optimus Prime, and the Jettwins

SFW, Platonic, slight romantic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Buddy was one of Cybertrons best detectives during the war.

She was hailed with finding many lost Autobots and catching Decepticons off guard with her swiftness and skilled martial artistry.

She had some teaching from Master Yoketron but decided to leave the dojo to help High Command in the war.

Buddy met Ultra Magnus as his personal bodyguard.

The old one had taken leave to get repairs and some of the back up guards had been called into the draft.

Buddy was personally called after Magnus had heard of her reputation.

Even though the job was temporary Buddy took her job seriously in guarding Ultra Magnus.

They bonded during that time from the near-death situations to potential strategy plans suggested.

“Ultra Magnus.”--Buddy

“Buddy? What seems to be the trouble?”--Magnus

“If I may be so bold…”--Buddy

“You may.”--Magnus

“Is it wise to move the troops in this sector? We would be leaving this flank completely unguarded.”--Buddy

“We would need to take that risk.”--Magnus

“But there is also a chance that the assault team could come in. We have a refugee camp in that area, it will be vulnerable.”--Buddy

“Hmm… you are right. We will need to alert the troops at once.”--Magnus

“Absolutely, sir.”--Buddy

Magnus had offered Buddy a spot in the Elite Guard once the knew guard had arrived, but she politely declined in return for wanting to go back and do her detective work.

The two did stay in contact, especially once the number of hostages they were finding grew in numbers.

It was during one of these cases that Buddy met Ratchet.

Buddy had returned another group of Autobots to a nearby relief camp.

Buddy wanted to know the status of each patient admitted.

“How are they?”--Buddy

“Sweet Alpha Trion! Don’t you know better to scare a field tech?!”--Ratchet

“Sorry, I just wanted to know if the Autobots are okay.”--Buddy

“If you don’t mind waiting a couple of hours, then of course.”--Ratchet

A couple hours later, Ratchet is wrapping up everything up when he sees Buddy taking a nap on a chair nearby.

“You really waited here for all this time?”--Ratchet

Of course, so… do I have to wait more?”--Buddy

“Lucky you, I have all the reports. They are all going to be fine. Some better than others, but they’ll live.”--Ratchet

“That’s good. That’s good.”--Buddy

“Why did you wait?”--Ratchet

“I like to know whether my work was good or not.”--Buddy

“Really. Is that all?”--Ratchet

“…Maybe…”--Buddy

“You kids and you’re words.”--Ratchet

“Hey, I’m your age!”--Buddy

“You don’t act like it!”--Ratchet

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Ratchet

“Hahahahahah!”—Buddy and Ratchet

That was where their friendship began.

The two kept in communication after Buddy left the camp.

They talked about their daily lives every now and then. There would be rare times when the two would be able to meet up in person.

Everything was fine.

Until Buddy went radio silent.

Ratchet had tried to reach Buddy multiple times, even going as far as picking up some favor from the higher ups.

No one had any notation on Buddy.

Timeskip to Earth

Optimus was tired.

He had been dealing with Sentinel’s attitude all day and now he had to babysit the Jettwins.

Why?

Sentinel had promised them to visit the Plant, but he had bailed out at the last minute… and Optimus was at the mercy of the twins ‘puppy dog’ optics.

When the three of them came into the dark Plant. A single light was turned on in the middle of the common room.

“Where are the others?”--Jetstorm

“Yes! Where? Bumblebee told us about this video game—”--Jetfire

“Wait!”--Optimus

“What?”—Jetfire and Jetstorm

“I just remember something… the Team is out on patrol.”--optimus

“Then why is there a light on.”--Jetfire

“That’s because… we aren’t alone.”—Optimus

Optimus grabs his axe while the twins power up.

The light flickered until it finally turned off.

None of them are ready for the sudden ambush. They thrashed around feeling kicks and chops to their armor before they felt stasis cuffs on their servos and pedes.

The lights turned on.

There was a stranger who looked like a Decepticon with their dark colored paint job, but the red Autobot badge begged to differ.

The bot came over to the Prime and looked at his Autobot badge then turned and saw the twins’ badges.

Silently the bot clicked a button.

The cuffs came loose.

“Sorry about that. You can’t be too careful now a days.”--Buddy

“Who are you?”--Optimus

“And how did you do that!”--Jetfire

“That was so cool!”--Jetstorm

“Do you have powers too?! What powers do you have?!”--Jettwins

“Woah, woah, woah calm, down kiddos. I’m a detective from the Autobot High Command. The names Buddy.”--Buddy

“Detective? How come I’ve never heard of you?”--OPtimus

“Special ops. I look out for the bots who suddenly go missing and no one wants to look for them. I’m the one they call to look for them or I find out and go looking for them.”--Buddy

“Oooohhhh!”--Jettwins

“Who did you come looking for?”--Optimus

“I take it you’re Optimus Prime.”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Optimus

“I came to look for you and your team.”--Buddy

“Oh! Who called?”--Optimus

“… A dear friend of mine was on your team. I didn’t get a chance to tell him what happen on my pass assignment… I found out after some digging. Its hard to figure out space bridge engineering when you don’t know a lick about it.”--Buddy

“Who was your friend?”--Optimus

“A brilliant field tech named Ratchet.”--Buddy

“The Doc-Bot!?”--Jettwins

“You know him?”--Buddy

“He is our field tech along with our friend Sari.”--Optimus

“What’s a Sari?”—Buddy

That was when the rest of Team Prime had decided to show up.

Now it was understandable that the Team was on edge seeing a dark armored bot looming over the three Autobots on the ground.

But one of them quickly gets everyone to lower their weapons.

“Put those weapons down, that’s an Autobot!”--Ratchet

“An Autobot? They look like a Decepticon to me!”--Bumblebee

“Put it down!”--Ratchet

“You know them?”--Prowl

“Yes!”--Ratchet

“Ratchet!?”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Ratchet

Buddy ran to Ratchet hugging new dents into him.

“Oh my—”--Prowl

“That bot did the impossible!”--Bulkhead

“She’s hugging Ratchet! And he’s hugging back!”--Bumblebee

“Shut it!”—Buddy and Ratchet

The two Autobot looking at each other before laughing.

“…Prime I’m scared.”--Bumblebee

“Me too—I mean don’t be rude.”--Optimus

[thefakebeeextinction]

I realized I haven't shared here my thoughts (which I plan to make):

Basically, Alpha Trion's powers works this tiny bit differently and so rather than showing Team Prime the retrospection of Sentinel's wrongdoings they're sent into the past to experience it on their own

There's timeline shenanigans (that makes Dee and Elita question if fixing anything in the past worthy of doing anything at all) because of course there is, I love this tomfuckery with all my heart 💫

Bee would suffer his own part in said past and will be just, fuckinnnnnnnn. He won't enjoy what I've got in store for him lol /lh

Also this AU is a pathetic excuse for me to write (because I'm writing a FANFIC about this, already spent too much fucking time THINKING and BUILDING UP this shit's lore ✨) Megatronus and Dee's interaction and just give them time to bond. Dee will meet his hero and fangirl about it absolutely, meanwhile Megatronus would be like: Who is this sassy lost child, can I adopt him?

ALSO, ALSO- Absolute obliteration of Starscream's peace, he's now put on a babysitter duty and there ain't a way to not throw into this mix other bots from the guard (he's NOT suffering taking care of four hyperactive bots alone!!!)

Gods, you can already tell I'm having a blast jsksjks