highprotector

[highprotector]

huge, intimidating men who relax their posture and soften their voice whenever they speak to you 😔

[highprotector]

what kind of “i love you” are you?

i love you, i've always loved you, i will always love you

it's commitment, it's devotion, it goes often without saying, but is felt nonetheless. it's accepting that you would travel to hell and back for them if they asked and knowing that they would do the same for you. it's an old ache, long after they've burrowed deep into your chest and settled there like a weight- grounding, an anchor point. even when you're apart, you can still feel the shape of them, it's like phantom pain. neither of you can help but succumb to the other's gravity, yet neither of you fear the collision. it means that you trust them, that they make you feel safe, that they feel like home.

stolen from: @autobotstarscream because i forgot to do one for Megs

tagging: anyone else who wants to steal it

[highprotector]

“The tattoos are hot.”

[highprotector]

“You have something on your face.”

[highprotector]

“Ohhh, a ‘wife’ test. I am a mother. Never mind, then.”

[highprotector]

Gladiator ring, made with bronze and jasper.

Paris, Department of Coins, Medals and Antiquities.

Photography by Egisto Sani (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

[highprotector]

PLATYTRON

“I dread the implication that we’re classified as any kind of mammal in Terran taxonomy.”

He’s playing it up, though. He actually likes platypuses.

[highprotector]

“As far as I’m aware, we’re the only reality that has eggs.”

They’re like platypuses that way: lay eggs, nurse their young, have strange electromagnetic sensory abilities, and have hidden (and not so hidden) pointy bits that might poison you.

[highprotector]

GIRL you are KILLING IT! GIRL i don’t think it’s MOVING ANYMORE. GIRL you can STOP BITING

[highprotector]

“I am NOT ‘meddling in the space-time continuum’; I’m undooming them from the narrative. It’s different.”

…

“Shut up.”

[highprotector]

Well, shit. A whole trine has been dumped in his lap.

[highprotector]

“You heard Starscream. Hand over your ‘party favour’ sparklings.”

[highprotector]

“I was never a Prime, merely named after one; although I was Lord High Protector, for a time.” The word ‘Quintessons’ is unfamiliar to him, so he ignores it for now. ‘D-16’, however, is a name he recognizes, and for the first time during his many interactions with other realities, Megatron feels an uncomfortable little pinch in his spark.

[His Orion Pax had never known him before he became Megatronus, before he’d been someone who could protect and provide; sometimes Megatron likes to pretend to himself that D-16 had never existed, that there had never been a time when he wasn’t powerful and dangerous, that he had always known Starscream and Soundwave and Optimus-nee-Orion. That he had never been alone. That there had never been a time when he was nothing but a number and a function.]

“D-16, hm?” Megatron pulls out another cube of energon distilled from pure Sol sunlight and waits for Orion to finish the one he already has. “He’s probably hungry, too.” Buried memories claw their way out to remind him that yes, D-16 had always been constantly, painfully hungry; Megatron viciously stamps them back down beneath their gravestones.

“I’d like to meet him, too,” and hold him tight and tell him that things would be alright, that none of the terrible things would last forever, that no matter what happened there would always be someone - probably Orion - by his side, reaching out to pull him back in, and so he’d better not take those people for granted, ever, “but if I can’t, this is for him.”

“You might as well be, for what little mass you have on you,” Megatron grumps, and tucks Orion closer. “Yes, ‘like Megatronus’; I used to go by that name when my own Orion and I were younger. I assume you have a Megatronus of your own?”

If so, they’re doing a terrible job, in Megatron’s highly qualified opinion. He pulls a small cube of energon from his subspace, its soft blue glow shimmering invitingly, and holds it out. “Here, eat this.”

[highprotector]

He is also 35ft tall…

…until he stands up straight.

[highprotector]

“You might as well be, for what little mass you have on you,” Megatron grumps, and tucks Orion closer. “Yes, ‘like Megatronus’; I used to go by that name when my own Orion and I were younger. I assume you have a Megatronus of your own?”

If so, they’re doing a terrible job, in Megatron’s highly qualified opinion. He pulls a small cube of energon from his subspace, its soft blue glow shimmering invitingly, and holds it out. “Here, eat this.”

“Oh, but I can,” Megatron corrects him, and holds Orion at arm’s length to inspect him. Scrawny, covered in little dents and scuffs and a thin layer of grime, and with a gaping hole in his chest right where most mechs of Megatron’s reality kept their sparks.

Overall, not great, as Sideswipe would probably say. Megatron’s Orion had never looked so… bedraggled.

“I am Megatron,” he says, as if that explains everything, and adjusts his hold on Orion so that it’s less precarious and more protective. “And you need looking after.”

[highprotector]

( if something happened to Optimus - now that they’ve stopped trying to kill each other - Megs would probably riot; but if anything happened to Starscream he’d lose his fucking mind and probably kill every single person he thought remotely responsible.

if Starscream died tho??? guaranteed Megs would snap permanently )

[highprotector]

Megatron slowly relaxes under Starscream’s claws. He’ll return the favour, later, when he’s in a better position to access all of Starscream’s impressive wingspan; for now, he’s simply going to enjoy the attention.

“So affectionate today.” But Megatron is hardly complaining. As much as he fell in love with Starscream because of the constant give and take between them that sharpened them against each other like fine blades, in the end it only truly serves to make these softer moments with each other that much sweeter. Starscream smells like clear oil and clean, sun-kissed Earth dirt; Megatron lazily cups the side of his Seeker’s face, gently stroking his thumb over Starscream’s cheek. “What did I do to deserve this.”

Gentle forhead bonk, expect it's not gentle because this is Starscream, and he only shows affection towards his mate aggressively. (Updatesatbase)

Megatron hasn’t earned the nickname ‘Buckethead’ for nothing, thankfully; the bonk doesn’t take him out entirely, even if it does leave him shaking his helm and blinking stars from his one good optic. The sentiment is very clear, of course, and Megatron himself often indulges in similar displays of spontaneous violent love among those he holds dear. Still, reciprocation is in order.

“Youuuu…!” The warning growl is all Starscream gets before Megatron lunges at him in an attempt to tackle him into the dirt, mercilessly rubbing his face all over Starscream’s.

@updatesatbase