#and loves messing with deadlock/drift

[megalony]

What A Healer Can't Fix

This is anew Emperor Geta imagine, based on a lovely anon request. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

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Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is the Empress, it's her role to provide Geta with an heir. But that seems to be the one thing she can't achieve, and she wonders if she is cursed.

(Mentions/ description of miscarriages)

Enjoy.

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Geta's foot began to tap incessantly against the floor and the calm, composed expression on his face was slowly beginning to waver and fade into something tiresome and irritated.

He had been more than kind, more than considerate in listening to the Senates constant quibbles and demands and pointless babbling. He was sure he had been stood on this very spot for longer than half an hour with these two men who couldn't seem to see his rising temper. Did they expect him to stand around and wait until the sun dipped behind the sea and the stars lit up the sky? Did they expect to reel off every scripture to him and have him stand here and listen to it all?

None of their problems were worth Geta's time and he had been kind enough by agreeing to their first two demands of him. What they were babbling about now had washed over his head. He hadn't been listening intently any more and he thought that would have been abundantly clear.

His ringed fingers were starting to twitch and curl into fists at his sides and he began spinning the golden ring around his index finger, an old habit to try and keep himself composed.

During lessons that he and Caracalla frequently missed and ignored, Geta would mess with his jewellery to try and sustain his attention and stop his mind from drifting away. It helped him to concentrate but right now he was focusing more on controlling his temper and his attitude than sustaining whatever information they were trying to droll off to him.

He couldn't help the sigh that tumbled past his lips and his head angled to the right as his brow rose and his lips formed into a thin line with a slight crinkle to his upper lip. A look which clearly told the Senates how unsatisfied he was about being deadlocked in this conversation with them, but it didn't seem to put them off at all.

"�� and I'm sure you can see this would be an inconvenience, Sire."

Whatever inconvenience Senator Caus was talking about couldn't have been much worse than the one Geta was currently enduring.

"And what is it you'd have me do?" There was a snappy tone to Geta's voice that added with the tapping of his golden sandal against the marbled floor. What was he supposed to do about this? What were they hoping for? He would agree to almost anything at this point if it would stop them from bothering him so much.

Every other day they would steer him in another direction after a meeting and talk his ear off about their problems. Most of the Senates seemed to think that because Geta tried to do a good job and not make enemies with them, that he was therefore agreeable to anything and he would give them what they wanted. They all acted like his most entrusted confidant and tried to worm around him for what they needed.

It was as annoying as it was unsettling that they thought he would be so swayed and so easily moulded to their ideals.

Geta was not naïve. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't ignorant or a silly little boy who needed guidance on the throne. He was ruling for both himself and his brother who was more incapable these days than he was lucid in his mind. Geta wouldn't have people walk all over him or try to sway Caracalla when he wasn't in his right mind.

"If you would sign our agreement to show your support, we could-"

"You expect me to sign without reading it first? Do you think me so naive?" His abrupt response caused both men to pause and stare at him with wide, panicked eyes.

Of course they did. They wanted him to sign so they would be truimphant against the Senate they had been having quabbles with. Well Geta wouldn't sign even if it would prevent headaches like these.

He watched them both struggle for a response, but something caught his eye and Geta found himself leaning to the right to look behind them.

A light in the darkness. A saving grace had appeared just behind them and Geta could feel his system calming down already and he internally sighed.

(Y/n).

His wife was standing at the far end of the hall, looking like a Goddess that had come down to Earth. The white dress she wore shone in the sunlight that streamed through the open windows, but it was the seams of gold woven into the fabric that caught the light in the perfect way to reflect sparkles and streaks around the walls. Almost as if she were a fallen piece of the sun giving off her own light for everyone in the palace.

Even from a distance, Geta was sure that he could see a flower or two woven into her intricately braided hair. And he could see the bangles and bracelets shimmering and bouncing on her wrists.

She never used to wear much jewellery until she married Geta. He had a love of pretty things and he liked to gift them to her, especially ones made out of gold. Gold was the symbol of Royalty, and coupled with the fact that both Emperors had golden hair and were always dripping with golden clothes, it seemed to embellish the fact that they were supposed to rule. They were here to govern and guide Rome to glory.

Geta seemed to wear more jewellery than his wife, but he liked that she wore the pieces he gave to her. The many bracelets, the three rings she wore, and one long necklace that reached her cleavage and was carved into the image of the sun. Those were all she wore each day, and they were enough to make her the image of an Empress that the people of Rome loved and admired.

She was just the excuse Geta needed to get him out of this dreary confrontation.

"Find me the papers in the morning and I'll read them." It was clear by Geta's tone that he was dismissing the subject and he wasn't going to stand and talk about this any longer.

Geta unclenched his hands and flexed his fingers and with a slight dip of his head, he walked past both men and left their irritating conversation behind him. His sights were set on his wife, she was the only person he wished to be around now.

He could see by the way (Y/n) was stood that she wanted to speak with him. She was stood to one side, hands clasped in front of her and that beautiful smile on her lips that always entranced Geta whenever he was in her presence. If they weren't already married he would be under her spell and begging to have her hand in marriage.

She wasn't trying to weave past any of the passing Senates since their meeting had come to an end, and she wasn't making her way towards the gardens or wandering the palace. She was waiting for Geta, and that thought alone had his heart soaring in his chest.

(Y/n) could feel her smile brightening when Geta approached her and her arms were reaching out for him as soon as he was within reach.

Her hands clasped down on his shoulders and her fingers itched and glided along the pale cream silks of the cape attached to his shoulders. He was in pale colours today, much like she was but of course the jewellery hanging off of him was golden. He had to wear something gold at almost all times, an internal tradition.

"You look tired," (Y/n) glided one one hand up from his shoulder to caress the side of his face. Her fingers traced along his pale cheek and soft skin, brushing along his jaw until he was leaning his head into her touch and almost melting in front of her.

The look in his eyes was a mixture of exhaustion and aggravation and he looked drained. Meetings were always boring to both the Emperors, they could barely keep their attention on what was happening. And people expected more of Geta than they did Caracalla. People knew Caracalla was prone to outbursts and a loss of attention, which meant that Geta had to do the thinking and concentrating for the both of them.

"Hm, your timing is divine or I might have been tempted to get rid of a few of the council men." The way Geta's head ticked to the left to subtly hint to the men behind him made (Y/n) smile.

She pushed up on her toes to press a kiss to his blushing lips that stood out against the rest of his pale features, and she felt the way he sighed and almost crumbled against her. His hands reached out for her hips, pulling her closer until there was no air of space between them, just the way he liked it.

"The meeting went well I take it?" The air of sarcasm in (Y/n)'s voice caused Geta to smile. The meeting hadn't been awful, just draining.

He didn't respond, but he didn't have to when his smile said it all. He tilted his head forward until his temple was softly pressed against (Y/n)'s and he allowed himself to close his eyes, basking in their closeness. His fingers squeezed into her hips and his chest inclined further against hers.

The display of affection was rather surprising. Geta was all for wrapping himself around (Y/n) or having her attached to his arm, but he didn't always cling to her where others could see.

In Geta's mind, if people saw how much (Y/n) meant to him it would put her at risk. The Senates and Council could be so vindictive and if anyone in Rome turned against him, (Y/n) would be the first person they turned to and hurt her to get to him. But right now, Geta wasn't bothered by the passing councilmen who could see how he took refuge in his wife.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" (Y/n) kept caressing her hand along Geta's cheek as she spoke, seeing how the action was clearly soothing and she wondered if he might fall asleep standing up.

His eyes finally opened when her words registered in his ears and a certain look crossed his eyes which narrowed on her for a moment before he nodded. The way she smiled and looked up at him so endearingly told Geta that she wasn't worried or needed an urgent conversation, which was relieving. But there was still something about her expression that had him wondering.

"I have all the time in the world for you."

His hands lingered for a few moments before they finally left her waist and he reached out to entwine their fingers together instead. Geta felt relieved and invigorated at the same time when (Y/n) stood at his side and her free hand curled around his arm like she was binding them together.

He turned to the side and began guiding them down the hall, if she wanted to take he gathered that standing in the hall wasn't exactly what she had in mind. They would go and talk in the sun room, one of (Y/n)'s preferred places because Geta knew she loved to see the sun shining through the large open windows and glistening on the pond that lay outside the room in the garden.

(Y/n) let her head rest on Geta's shoulder and she leaned into him just a little as they took a steady walk down the next hall which was vacant of any other soul. Leaving them both secluded and content as Geta aimed for the sun room and opened the heavy wooden door.

Once they headed into the room, Geta aimed for the sofa in front of the window and gently pulled on (Y/n)'s hand until she took a seat beside him.

It felt like the first time he had truly relaxed all day, possibly all week and it was calming to finally be alone without dozens of people asking things of him and wanting his attention or wanting to get something from him.

When she took her seat beside him (Y/n) kept their entwined hands resting on her lap and she began to glide her other hand up and down Geta's arm like she was stroking and drawing patterns into his skin. He seemed to find the touch entrancing and relaxing as he watched her for a good minute or so before he finally broke the comfortable silence that had enveloped around them.

"You wanted to talk? Is everything okay?"

(Y/n) managed a smile and nodded her head, keeping her eyes on his milky white skin for a little bit longer before she found the will to look up at his concerned features. Despite the smile on his face, Geta looked slightly worried. He was always on edge, expecting things to go wrong or problems to arise, and when it came to (Y/n), she was the main person he constantly worried and fretted about.

Leaning a little closer, she perched her chin on his shoulder which caused Geta to turn his head to the right to look down at her. They were close enough that he was able to press his lips to her temple while he waited for her to explain.

"I saw the healer this morning, I've missed my cycles…" The implication in her words was clear, but (Y/n) had to keep holding her breath to steady her raging nerves and find the will to say it outloud. "I'm pregnant."

She couldn't open her eyes once the words left her lips. She kept leaning into his touch where his lips were glued to her temple and she waited, soaking in his touch until Geta finally leaned back and moved his free hand to cup her cheek. He tilted her head back, waiting for her to open those pretty eyes so he could examine her expression and read the emotions that were always so clear within her eyes.

It was hard for (Y/n) to open her eyes because she didn't want to get lost in the happiness she knew she would see on her husband's face.

Opening her eyes caused her breath to get caught within her lungs again, and she was relieved to see a content grin on his face which morphed when he leaned in to steal a kiss from her lips.

She allowed herself to bask in his touch and nuzzle her cheek into his palm that was cradling her face while adrenaline surged throughout her stomach and up to her chest.

Geta found himself murmuring "Truly?" against her lips, as if the most skilled healer in all of Rome might be wrong in his assumptions. But the nod of (Y/n)'s head was enough to have pride swelling in Geta's chest and a brighter smile beaming across his face.

The healer wasn't wrong and (Y/n) knew this was right, she knew the signs and the symptoms she was experiencing. And she knew that this was news her husband was desperate to hear, and that the Senates would be eager to announce and chime in with their opinions.

Leaning forwards, (Y/n) let go of Geta's hand in favour of looping both her arms around his neck and she tucked her face into his neck. It was comforting to feel his arms binding around her waist, but feeling one of his hands begin to skim across her so far unchanged stomach made tears build up in (Y/n)'s eyes.

"We must tell the council-"

"No."

Geta froze in place at the terror he could hear entwined within his wife's voice. It made his stomach tighten and his chest ache and he found himself pressing a few dozen kisses against her temple before he tried to part her head from his neck so they were looking at one another again.

"Not yet, please. Not- not until we know for sure that they are okay." A single tear traced down (Y/n)'s cheek and her eyes snapped closed when she felt Geta's hand graze along her stomach again.

She couldn't bear to tell the council or make an announcement to all of Rome, not at this early stage. It would break her heart completely and make her feel like a failure if they announced the pregnancy, only for (Y/n) to lose the child.

She couldn't lose another.

"Alright," Geta hummed against her temple in a quiet attempt to calm her down. He didn't want to upset her, not when this was news worth celebrating, not worrying over. "Once you begin to show, then we will make the announcement."

That seemed fair, that seemed amicable that they could announce it with some sense of certainty that they were going to have an heir this time with no bad fortunes attached. It would be a good sign once (Y/n)'s shape began to change and her stomach started to swell, then they would see that this was a fortunate sign and that their child would be okay and thriving.

(Y/n) managed to nod her head and whisper a croaky "Thank you," which showed just how badly she was trying to keep her tears at bay.

She rested her cheek back on Geta's shoulder and kept her arms bound around his neck to keep herself as close to him as possible.

Her eyes closed as she pressed herself as close to Geta's side as she possibly could, inhaling his scent that worked in calming down her wrecked nerves. And the feeling of Geta's hand gliding up and down her back and roaming around her hips was soothing.

She so wished that this time, things would turn out differently.

They had been in this position three times already, and none of those times had ever produced an heir to secure Geta on the throne and prevent a possible future uprising.

(Y/n) hadn't known she had been pregnant the first time. It hadn't been long since she and Geta got married and the maids had to fetch the healer when (Y/n) succumbed to terrible cramps and sickness. She'd lost a tiny child she had no idea she was carrying.

The second time they had known and told the Senates, who had all been pleasantly surprised and eager for a male heir to the throne. They congratulated (Y/n) like she was doing such a good job as being Empress, a position she hadn't had for too long. But she barely started to show before she lost that child too, and it almost destroyed her.

She took to fasting, to praying and going on pilgrimage outside of Rome to pray to Juno. She prayed to be given the chance to have a healthy baby, to give Geta the heir he needed and desperately wanted, to see him with a child in his arms. She wanted a baby, and she begged to all the Gods to let her prove herself to Rome and to have a family of her own.

Geta had started to panic for her until she got pregnant a third time. He saw the way (Y/n) went from frantic to relieved. He watched her try and do everything right, to take things easy, rest, eat only what the healers told her would be best. She did everything she could, but it had been no use.

She miscarried a boy, and it was as if all of Rome had been disappointed in her.

Everyone except for Geta.

He was the only one who didn't shake his head or tut and sigh or say that she would have to try better next time, that she needed to do better to produce an heir. Geta had been the most understanding out of everyone and he had been adamant that no one talk about the losses.

He didn't want anyone trying to belittle his wife or make her feel broken when she was clearly struggling and grieving. He wouldn't have anyone upset her or say a bad word about her because he knew it wasn't her fault, it was the Gods who he was angry with for putting her through this.

Geta tried to get as many healers as he could to make sure (Y/n) recovered, that she was alright and he wouldn't think or have anyone talk about another heir. He wouldn't keep pushing and forcing (Y/n) into this situation if it was going to cause her such agony. That was why pregnancy was such a surprise, as it wasn't planned or as desperately prayed for like the others.

It wasn't as if (Y/n) was infertile, she had known women get married and send themselves into grief and insanity by not being able to get pregnant even once. (Y/n) could get pregnant rather easily, it was keeping and bearing the babies that she struggled to accomplish.

"I want to have a baby." (Y/n) wasn't sure whether she was talking to Geta or just whispering her heart's desire, but she knew he heard her when his arms tightened around her.

"I know, my love. We might have a chance now, hm?" He spoke into her hair while his hand continued to smooth up and down her back.

He would pray to every God he had to in order to beg for this pregnancy to work out. They wanted this child.

Was this finally going to work out?

***

Rubbing her reddened sore eyes with the back of her hand, (Y/n) tipped her head back like she was trying to tip all of the tears into the back of her head to stop them from falling. She felt like she had shed far too many tears already, but they kept on coming until there was bound to be no water left in her body. The shaking hadn't seem to stop yet and (Y/n) wondered whether her system would finally settle or whether she would simply pass out and end her misery that way.

The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet, neither had the cramps. And her body was starting to produce enough heat to rival the sun Geta was always comparing her to. Despite the flimsy evening gown she wore which was thin and loose enough to feel like a scrap of paper covering her than proper material. Maybe passing out would be a blessing in disguise.

What was she going to do?

Another flurry of tears rushed down her face and she tipped her head back against the stone wall as gasping breaths left her blushing lips.

"I- I'm sorry…"

She didn't quite know who she was talking to; herself, Geta who had crossed her mind every second for what felt like hours. Or the life she had just lost.

She had done it again. She had failed Geta, she had lost something so precious to them both, something that had given him hope and had made him so happy for the few short weeks that they had basked in this news. And Geta had been hoping to tell the Council in the upcoming weeks. He had wanted to tell them soon as (Y/n) was just starting to change shape.

Not anymore. Her body had betrayed her, just like it always did and evicted the babies she was so desperate to carry.

Why could all other women in Rome carry children, but not (Y/n)? Why was she not allowed to have an heir, yet there were concubines and women on the street angry that they had to bear more children?

One child. That was all (Y/n) was asking for, just one baby, one heir for her and Geta and for the peace of Rome.

Why did (Y/n) have to be broken like this? Why did she have to be cursed? The Gods disliked her, they bore such a grudge against her that they wouldn't give her the curtesy of being barren. They made her fertile only to lose each child she tried to carry. They were cruel, and (Y/n) hated each and every one of them.

"Why me?"

A broken wail left her lips and her bloodied hands slammed down against her thighs, wishing she could cause more damage to herself. She wanted to look as broken on the outside as she clearly was on the inside. She wanted to curl up and disappear, she wanted to fade from the world so she wouldn't have to bear the consequences of her body's actions.

How was she going to explain her failure to Geta?

The thought of having to tell him- tell the servants and explain to the Council when they eventually found out- made (Y/n) shiver and she twisted to the right just in time to throw up into the bowl resting beside her on the chamber floor.

She didn't want to tell him, but what choice did she have? (Y/n) had done the damage by confiding in Geta what the healer had told her. She had told him far too soon that she had been pregnant, but she did the previous two times as well. She told him because she needed to, she had to confide in him, show him that she was trying and to make him happy. But each time she had stolen that happiness away from him, and now she had to do it again.

She shouldn't have told anyone, she should have waited and maybe this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe she could have hid this quietly and tried again to have a baby without anyone needing to know just how many times she had failed her beloved Emperor and all of Rome.

She didn't want to tell Geta and see the torment in his eyes and the agony on his face. She didn't want his or anyone else's sympathy which she didn't deserve. And (Y/n) didn't want the Senates to show their obvious disappointment in her.

They would say she was infertile, they would try and persuade Geta to have their marriage annulled and get him to marry someone more suitable. Someone who wasn't irrevokably damaged like (Y/n). And they would be right. She was no use to such an Emperor if she couldn't give him the children he needed to carry on his bloodline.

It was clear that she couldn't hide in here forever, Geta was bound to come back to their shared quarters soon, once his business was finished and he had checked on Caracalla. Something he did more frequently now with his brother's raging moods.

She couldn't hide this from him or lock herself in here forever and hope that no one found her or knew anything was wrong.

(Y/n)’s aching heart wanted Geta and the comfort he would give, but her mind was desperate to keep him away.

With a shaky breath, (Y/n) pushed herself up from leaning against the wall and moved onto her knees instead. She couldn't stop the cry from bubbling past her lips when she tried to move her hands but they weren't under her control from how badly she was trembling.

She pushed the bloodied cloths into the corner of the room. She needed to tidy up the mess she had caused, but there was no energy left within her to do so. (Y/n) didn't want to do anything anymore; the one thing she wanted was something she clearly couldn't do. What else was she here for?

(Y/n) let all the energy dwindle away from her body and with little effort, she flopped onto the frozen stone floor on her side. Her knees coiled up to her aching stomach, her arms bound around her chest and her face pressed against the floor.

She didn't care how cold the floor felt against her burning skin or the light chill in the evening air creeping through from the bed chamber. She welcomed the darkness that enveloped her with open arms and wished that it would keep her in its sanctuary forever.

***

Tiredness washed over Geta as he closed the chamber door behind him and stepped out into the darkened hallway lit only by a string of candles spread far along the walls.

His head rolled from side to side trying to straighten the crick in his neck and his shoulders flexed before he looked across at the maid huddled at the side of the door. She looked much like a mouse, head down, arms bound to her chest and feet nervously twitching against the floor as she tried to make herself as small and insignificant as possible.

She only looked up when she felt Geta's inpertinent stare boring through into her soul.

"Keep an eye on him, if his mood changes then fetch me. Understand?" Most of the staff knew that if Caracalla went into one of his rages or sour moods, they were to find Geta. He was the only one able to get any sense out of the Emperor and calm him down.

The maid nodded and when Geta stepped to the side, she slid past him and crept into the room. She needed to refill the wine and keep an eye on the Emperor to make sure he was alright throughout the evening.

With a sigh, Geta moved his hand to cup the bridge of his nose and he tried to ward off the headache rolling in behind his eyes. He needed to get some rest. Being up since the beginning of the sun rising in the sky and still being on the move long after it had set behind the sea was wearing Geta down.

He began his slow descent down the hall towards his own chambers, but his brows furrowed and his head ticked to one side when he recognised a familiar face. It was one of the maids who usually tended to him and (Y/n).

Geta didn't remember most of the names of the servants in the palace, he had a hard enough time remembering the Senates and the few regular guards he interacted with. He had no time calling each member of staff by their name when it was irrelevant to him. But (Y/n) knew. She could talk to each of them and know their names and their favourite drink or some little intricate detail about them.

It was one of the reasons (Y/n) was so favoured as the Empress of Rome. She would know this maid's name, considering this elder maid was someone who (Y/n) always seemed to be chatting and smiling with.

She looked panicked right now. Her skin was pale, verging on grey and her features were contorted into an unsettling grimace that made Geta's own nose crinkle in apprehension and distaste.

"Sire…" She sounded breathless as if she had been running all the streets in Rome and Geta found himself leaning back and getting ready to step away from her as if she were contagious.

"Yes?" He waited, somewhat impatiently for her to speak. Unsure whether she had stopped because she had seen him or whether she had been searching for him specifically.

"The Empress, she- she seems distressed, I don't know what to do."

"What's wrong with her?" A horrible sense of dread began to swell and bubble up in Geta's stomach as apprehension flooded his chest. Why would she say that? What was wrong with (Y/n)? Why say she 'seemed' distressed, she either was or she wasn't.

"She won't let me in the room, sire." The maid seemed to glance around the corridor as if she thought the walls had ears before she leaned in closer to whisper to him. "She's locked the door."

That was frightening.

Mira thought she had a good repour with the Empress, she seemed to be trusted with the Empress's wishes and private thoughts and she was thought of highly. She had always managed to get (Y/n) to eat when she was ill or persuade her to move around after her bad spells and broken moods after her miscarriages. And she knew she was favoured by Geta, when (Y/n) wasn't well Geta asked for her specifically rather than the other servants.

So it was worrying when she tried to enter the Empress's bedchambers to turn down the bed and refill the wine, and found the door locked. That had never happened before. The door was never locked or barricaded and the Empress had never called out for the staff to leave. She had shouted for Mira to go away and there was something in her voice that made Mira sure that (Y/n) wasn't well in herself.

The only thing she could do was find Geta because if any of the servants tried to enter the room and Geta found out, he would dismiss them immediately. They had no right to barge into the room even if they thought something was wrong with the Empress. It was his position to go to her aid so Mira had ran to find him.

Geta's feet were moving before he could comprehend what he was doing and his heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted down the hall with Mira hot on his heels.

By the time he reached his chambers, it felt like his heart was about to claw its way out of his chest and try to burst through the door itself.

Part of him wished that the maid was simply mistaken in her panicked state and that when his hand curled around the brass handle, he would find the door open as usual. The door was locked, just like the maid had said.

He leaned close to the door and waited, listening for any sounds, whether it be (Y/n) crying, coughing, screaming or even muttering to herself. He just wanted to hear something that gave him an indication of what was going on behind that door, but he heard nothing.

He tried to jiggle the handle, desperate for it to open on its own but he couldn't get it to budge. The lock had been pulled across the door.

"(Y/n)? It's me, can you open the door?"

There was a quiet sound on the other side of the door that Geta couldn't decipher what it was. He leaned so close that his ear was almost pressed against the wood. There was a muffled sound, (Y/n) had said something but it was too quiet and distant for Geta to try and work it out. He couldn't hear her moving, all he heard was (Y/n) mutter something before the room went quiet again.

"(Y/n) open the door."

Geta looked at the maid who was stood to one side with her hands clasped in front of her and a panicked expression cemented on her face. This door was going to open one way or another, he would make sure of it. He had to get in that room and see what was happening to his Empress. If (Y/n) was ill, Geta had to be in there with her.

His hand curled up into a fist and before he could stop himself, he thrashed his knuckles on the door, loud enough for (Y/n) to hear wherever she was in their chambers.

She was crying.

He wasn't waiting any longer for her to come and open the door, she was either incapacitated or she didn't want anyone to see her. And Geta didn't care either way because he was getting in there to find out what was happening.

His head snapped from left to right until his wild eyes locked onto a guard a few paces down the hall who was watching the scene curiously. Clearly not wanting to come over and get involved if he wasn't needed. But the moment Geta waved his hand towards the guard, he sped down the hall towards them.

"Open this door."

Perplexion flooded the guard's face; he knew that was the Emperor's own room so to find that he couldn't enter his own chambers was rather worrisome and confusing. But the guard made no attempt to question his Emperor.

He nodded and when Geta stepped back, he hunkered down and began to ram his padded shoulder into the wood. A few strikes and the lock snapped, allowing the door to swing wide open. But as the door opened and the guard tried to walk in, he found the Emperor's hand tight around his arm to stop him.

Geta asked him to open the door, but he didn't ask him to go in and look around. He would find and look after his wife, no one else needed to be involved.

The guard stepped back and stood outside the doorway, clearly wanting to be nearby in case there was a situation that he needed to help with.

Geta stormed into the room, taking caution to look around and see what was happening as he looked for his wife. He could feel the maid following behind but she stood near the doorway, she didn't want to face Geta's wrath in case he told her to get out.

The room looked askew. The sheets on the bed were strewn out of proportion, half hanging on the end of the bed and half tangled in a mess on the floor. The pillows were scrunched and draped in odd positions on the bed like (Y/n) had been moving about and flailing in a hurry. But when Geta got closer to the empty bed, he found his blood running cold and draining down to his toes.

Droplets of blood were stained into the sheets.

"Fetch the healer. Now!"

The maid's already stricken expression paled once again and she nodded, twisting and hurrying from the doorway to find the healer who remained in the palace for such emergencies as this.

With (Y/n) not being in the bed or on the sofa or even at the desk near the balcony, there was only one other place in their chambers where she could be. The privy chamber.

He almost didn't want to look. He didn't want to walk into that room and find out what was happening and what he would be faced with.

It didn't take him long to find her when he walked in.

She was curled up in an awkward shape on the floor, trembling and gasping. But the moment she looked up and realised Geta was there, it was as if the world was starting to crumble and burn around her.

The look of despair in her eyes made Geta's stomach churn and his expression dropped into a gaping look of sorrow when she cried upon seeing him. Why would she look so mortified and harrowing at seeing him? He was by far the only person she allowed and was comfortable with seeing her when she was unwell. Why was this any different?

His robes scrunched around his knees as he crouched down beside her ad gingerly reached his hands out for her. He tried to be delicate and careful when he cupped her face in his hands. He brushed her fallen hair out of her eyes and gently tilted her head up so she was looking up at him. Tears were stained all down her face and her lower lip was speckled with blood from how badly she had bitten her lip. He could feel the way she was shaking, her tremors were vibrating into his bones but it was the fever she seemed to be burning that sent Geta's heart soaring.

(Y/n) lifted a shaking hand up to cup Geta's wrist but all she could do was choke on stuttered breaths and lean into his touch that she had been aching for but too afraid to get him.

"What happened?"

Another floodwave of tears poured down (Y/n)'s face and she shuddered, leaning into Geta's touch despite how badly she wanted to flee from him and his comfort that she didn't deserve.

What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to explain her failure to him and expect him to understand and be rational when he had every right to be angry and disappointed with her?

"I can't… I- I lost them." Each word came out trembling and hoarse and (Y/n) couldn't look up at her beloved husband as she spoke.

Her hand let go of Geta's wrist to point across the room but she still wouldn't look at him. Her head angled to the left and her cheek pressed into her shoulder as she kept her face angled towards the wall and tightly shut her eyes to try and block out Geta and the world.

Geta could feel his heartbeat pulsing so loudly in his ears that his head swayed and he felt like he was drowning.

All the blood. The scrunched up cloths across the floor. The blood smeared into (Y/n)'s thighs and down her legs and smeared into her palms. The shaking and fever in her system. The way she wouldn't look at him or the blood stains that led across the room.

She'd lost the baby.

Geta's throat suddenly went dry and a wave of heat flooded his system as he looked back at his wife. His Empress. The light of his life. The person who made him who he was and made all of Rome love her and their Emperors with little effort.

His hands were reaching out for her and he hated how she writhed and tried to pull away from him, but she didn't have the ability or the effort. When his hands curled around her arms and he eased her forward into his hold until her face was meshed into his shoulder and he could bind his arms around her waist.

He slid one hand up to curl his hand into (Y/n)'s hair and his lips meshed against the top of her head.

He felt her hands scrunch up in his robes and a deep sob left her lips that started to break his heart all over again.

This is what Geta had been afraid of. This is what he worried about when he thought about this pregnancy. Three times they had been in this position and the first had been the easiest because at least they didn't have any knowledge or expectations and no one else knew. No one would look at (Y/n) or look in disappointment that first time.

But this was the fourth time that (Y/n) had been in this position, losing a life she was so desperate to nurture and carry. Each time it chipped a bit of her away and Geta didn't know what to do to piece her back together and help her through this.

All she wanted was to be able to have a child, and the Gods weren't letting it happen.

"Let's get you in bed for the healer."

The rapid shaking of (Y/n)'s head made Geta frown into her hair and she began tugging and yanking on his robes as she started to shake.

"I'm broken, a h-healer can't fix me." There was nothing a healer could do to fix what was damaged inside of (Y/n). There was something twisted inside her, something not normal. Something inadequate for bearing even one child that Geta yearned for and needed.

She was no Empress, she had no right to hold such a high esteem position or be worthy of Geta's love. How could he love someone infertile and cursed? How could be continue this marriage and continue to love her despite her inadequacy?

A strangled gasp left (Y/n)'s lips when she felt Geta's hands cupping her face and tilting her head back so they were once again looking at each other. And his fingertips pressed deeply into her skin until her eyes finally lifted to lock with him.

"There is nothing to be fixed about you. I want the healer to care for you because I will not lose you or have you become ill. Do you hear me?" His nose pressed against hers and their temples merged as if Geta wished to project each thought in his mind into her head.

He wasn't asking for the healer to fix whatever (Y/n) presumed was wrong within her. That wasn't what he was doing. geta wanted the healer to look after his wife and make sure that she wasn't going to succumb to illness or infection from this. Geta wouldn't lose her.

He would kill himself on the steps of Juno's temple if he lost his wife or if he had to in order to exchange his life for hers. Geta wouldn't live without her.

"I can't carry our child," (Y/n)'s trembling hands cupped Geta's wrists once again as an inner turmoil broke out within her.

She wanted his comfort, she wanted his arms around her and his heartbeat to settle her own. She wanted to feel like she wasn't such a failure that everyone in Rome was going to perceive her as once they learned this news. (Y/n) wanted to cling to Geta until the world turned itself the right way round again and came back to normal. She wanted Geta's love to heal what felt broken and unfixable within her.

But he couldn't fix what was wrong with her, and he didn't deserve a wife who couldn't bear him one child. A wife who had lost four of his children despite how she had prayed, pilgrimaged, fasted and listened to all the advice the healer and midwives would give her. She couldn't do anything right.

"I'm no good-"

"You are everything to me!" Geta's voice rose loud enough that (Y/n) shuddered at the volume and the haste in his words. "My world, my Empress, my life. I'm not putting you through this torture anymore, if we don't have an heir I won't lose any sleep over it. Not as long as I have you."

It didn't matter to Geta if they didn't have a child. His yearn for a child would fade and in comparison to potentially losing his wife to illness from losing a life or insanity from not having a child, being childless was something Geta wouldn't lose sleep over. He would happily spend the rest of his life devoting himself to his wife and doting on her, as long as she was healthy and well he didn't care.

But he wouldn't see her go through this again. Each attempt had left her tortured and suffering in agony both mentally and physically when she lost a life. She couldn't go through this again, Geta would see to it that they didn't pose the risk of another pregnancy only to see it end in torment.

His lips glued to her temple and his arms bound tighter around her as he cocooned her to his chest to keep them both secured to one another. He wanted to keep her safe and tucked up against his heart.

His hold was comforting and relieving and (Y/n) could feel herself starting to simmer down, but the ache in her heart felt like her organ was beating with a stab wound right in the centre.

Why couldn't she bear a child? Why had she lost each of them so soon and suddenly?

What had she done wrong?

[cozzzynook]

The Decepticons having a biting problem because they want to mark their claim.

Deadlock marks Ratchet on his throat and helm in a way it can’t be replaced and that mark becomes a symbol of conjunx ritus for the both of them.

Starscream bites Bee and Windblade on their wings and makes sure the bite is perfect. Its Windblade who bites him right back and Bee waits a while before softly biting Star in his sleep giving him a nice surprise when he wakes.

Ambulon gives First aid a bit on his upper arm and does the other side because one just didn’t feel like it was enough. First aid was a blushing mess for weeks every time he looked at and remembered the bite. Lots of loud fragging ensued.

Brainstorm bit Perceptor suddenly when he was working on a project and Perceptor shot at him for not asking and doing it while he was holding a dangerous experiment. Perceptor was more flustered than anything when the anger passed and he was sitting in the med bay with Brainstorm who was getting a blaster wound treated. Perceptor loved the bite more than he cares to admit. But Brainstorm already knows.

Megatron was clumsy with his biting but he bit Rodimus right on the aft the first time and played it off as a kink. Only to bit the other aft and then his chassis one on each side. Rodimus felt it was more than just a kink when former cons looked at the two in complete shock while Megs looked proud. He found out from Drift who was just so aghast at how many Megs left on Roddy. During their conjunx sealing Megatron bit Roddy’s spoiler and Roddy bit Megs back on the flares beneath his helm and his cheek along with the space above his spark. Megatron was love struck and in awe following Roddy like a puppy even more after that.

[decepti-thots]

“no idea what prompted this but hey i always like talking about non–mtmte deadlock canon ngl” im lonely as hell but i still need to talk about my favorite chewing toys. how do you think would deadlock act if he ever came across rodimus/hot rod for whatever reason? i fear there are 90% chances that he finds him insanely annoying and and a tiny 10% (before the transformers 2009 comic where was more alike to a ‘typical action hero whos a loner because of guilt’ ** rather than the ‘hard to be fond of’ protagonist hes in mtmte) where he thinks hes annoying but liek. in the ‘all autobots are annoying and this one in specific is trying to piss me off so bad and unfortunately its working’ sense.

** this perception of mine comes from reading all hail megatron, hot rods spotlight and autocracy. feel free to correct me if you believe im wrong! i think the anonymous asks give it away but im very fond of your blog and opinions, lol.

Nods. That's fair. I do love the 'chew toy' comparison, this is also my relationship to my faves, lmao.

I actually think the idea of a pre-canon meeting for these two is really interesting specifically because the Rodimus we meet (and that Drift meets) later on is so wildly different to what we know of Rodimus in like. Autocracy. I suspect the answer to this is different depending on when they meet earlier, tbh! I think if Deadlock and Autocracy-era Hot Rod met, then there'd be a lot of mutual circling around what exactly they both believe and want there, for example; Hot Rod is both actively working against the status quo (to say the least; he is literally a Political Terrorist TM there) and also, as it turns out correctly, deeply suspicious of the Decepticon cause as a potential avenue to do so. Deadlock, meanwhile, is now fully onboard with what will ultimately prove to be a path he becomes disillusioned with later down the line, personally selected by his cause's leader to help chaperone it. But he's also someone who, like Hot Rod, is still wary of authority, used to looking out for himself because he knows how easily the winds can change, and in total survival mode. I'd actually argue, fwiw, that Hot Rod is the more politically principled person over Deadlock, pre-war- he's the independent party more concerned with working out what he can do that is right for his people (however horrifying it is for him personally) over just keeping himself alive. It was harder to convince Hot Rod to join the Autobots than it was to get Deadlock to join the Decepticons! And Hot Rod seriously considered and rejected the offer to join the Decepticons, for that matter. I think meeting him at that point would have seriously made Deadlock reconsider his decision, and he'd have felt shit about doing so, and he'd have lashed out by taking it out on Hot Rod instead of admit he might have made the wrong one, that the Decepticons had promised him one thing but delivered another. And it would have been all the worse because Hot Rod was not, at that point, an Autobot, but a neutral party but in his own way still a radical. Harder to dismiss!

If they'd met sometime after that, closer to the 'present day' so to speak, but before Deadlock defected... Hot Rod and Deadlock have a lot in common there, I think, as people from backgrounds that shaped their worldviews irrevocably and influenced their decisions, but who have ultimately constantly come across moments in the war they want to end where they Fucked Up and had to deal with the fallout. I suspect they would see the other in themselves and kind of hate themselves for it, honestly, because they don't like what they see, but have both committed to a kind of sunk cost fallacy where admitting they aren't sure they didn't fuck up so bad they can't fix it is. Uh. Well neither of them want to do that. They'd find commonality, but they'd hate both themselves and the other for it. It'd be a mess, but an intriguing one. And yes, I do absolutely think he'd find Rodimus' defense mechanism where he acts Like That annoying as fuck, honestly. I think you're on the money there. Hot Rod manages this by acting like a hot shot who doesn't care, and Deadlock manages it by acting like he knows better than anyone else how to finish the job for the Decepticons. Not very compatible coping mechanisms. I think Hot Rod would reluctantly like Deadlock and Deadlock would want to punch Hot Rod in the face, lmao.

If they met after Drift went neutral but before he joined the Autobots, and when Hot Rod was still dealing with being an Autobot who kept fucking up, I... honestly am not sure how they'd both respond! That's genuinely the option that most intrigues me, but which I find hardest to work out. Would Drift try and talk Hot Rod into leaving the war? I don't think he could, but would he try? Would Hot Rod think Drift was worth arguing into really defecting, earlier than he eventually did in canon? Would he succeed? I think you could justify anything you wanted to argue, so long as you explained why. But I think the real interesting thing is that this would genuinely have been a more honest and more equal relationship for them than what we ultimately got from them, and isn't that interesting. Meeting on equal footing- allegedly- as Autobots was, in a way, kind of the worst option for their friendship, in the end. God, I love these two, they're terrible messes and terrible with each other and so good.

Anyway. I am very flattered you care to ask my opinions, anon, I hope this meandering answer is at least somewhat interesting to you.

[theoceanoasis]

ratchet and drift interrogating soundwave because he and hotrod have just gotten into a relationship.

He glared at the two Autobots across from him who'd cornered him at work.

Ratchet gave him a unimpressed look and Drift glared back.

"What do you two want?"

"We want to know what your intentions with Rodimus are."

His engine rumbled because they both had a lot of nerve asking him that, after they broke his spark.

"You left him remember. You don't get a say in who he dates."

"We're still his friends and we want to look out for him."

"If you want to look out for him then don't get between us."

"Not going to happen."

Drift glared getting angry even though he had no say in their relationship.

"Rodimus is my amica which means I have to protect him and make sure he doesn't fall in love with the wrong kind of people."

"You already failed at that. After all you let him fall in love with you and Ratchet. Besides breaking his spark. Don't forget that you used to be a Decepticon just like I was. Deadlock."

He watched as he flinched getting a small amount of satisfaction from it. Drift always wanted to act like he was somehow better than the Decepticons, when he was just like them. He might try to hide it but he'll always be Deadlock deep down.

"Our past relationship isn't relevant."

Ratchet tried to argue and he glared.

"Of course it is. Instead of being happy for him you are making everything about yourselves. Coming over here and interrogating me. Instead of trusting Rodimus to make the right decision. He's learned from his mistakes and has found someone who loves him. I will never use Rodimus like you two and I see him as more than some Prime to be worshipped."

"Stop acting all high and mighty Soundwave. You might not be using him for those reasons but I know you're using him."

"How do you know that?"

He crossed his arms glaring at the two of them.

"Because the two of you couldn't be more opposite."

"Haven't you ever heard opposites attract."

"Not in this scenario. We're not going to let Rodimus get hurt when he falls for someone who doesn't love him."

"How dare you!?"

His voice turned to ice as he glared at them. They both shifted looking nervous and he grinned internally, because he was not someone who should be messed with.

"My bond mate knows I love him and that I'm not trying to use him. The only person who's opinion on our relationship that matters is mine and Rodimus."

He watched as they realized what he said. They both stared at him in shock.

"You bonded with Rodimus?"

"When? Rodimus tells me everything. Why didn't he tell me about this?"

"Because he knew you wouldn't be supportive. Now if you excuse me. I have a date with my Conjunx."

He walked away leaving them standing there still in shock with the realization that Rodimus is bonded and has managed to find love without them.

[autobot-ratchet]

Drift: Empire of Stone

Empire of Stone 1

okay now jump to the present. Honestly, love that Drift is out here not knowing what the fuck to do with himself but at least trying his best to do good in the meantime. Like, he could've gone back to Cybertron but god knows he feels like he's ruined all his chances with all sides of the Cybertronian populace, so drifting it is

love that Drift is simply better than Grit lmAO he's come a long way from getting tossed around by Wing

“be shoosh,” he says. Shut up nerd lmAO

RATCHEEEEETTTT HIIIII, HI RATCHET ❤️❤️❤️ KICKS MY GAY LITTLE FEET

“When's the last time you went in for repairs?” “The shuttle's fine.” “I wasn't talking about the shuttle.” ehehehehehe

“I like being out here, doing this,” he lied, trying too hard to look cool in front of his crush

sorry I went and said that as a joke and then I remembered that they get canon married so that's like. Actually not a joke lmfAO Ratchet actually is his crush and I still even now am fucking floored by that

gfdsjka love Grit's comrades being like “ooh, ooh, I'll rat!” “I'll rat as well, please”

“There's no point in living if you have to sacrifice everything you are to do it.” hell yeah

Empire of Stone 2

honestly I kinda like that we're facing the consequences of Drift's past actions as Deadlock in a way other than “someone wants to kill him for either defecting or for something he did as Deadlock”

also love that Drift folds immediately once Gigatron starts even mildly hurting Ratchet, gayass

“Decepticons don't slaughter their own kind for no good reason at all.” they like. Extremely do lmfAO there's an entire Justice Division that is known by literally all Cybertronians for doing exactly that but go off

gfjhdjks I will admit the humor in this miniseries is really hit or miss, but the jokes that hit are still so good, love Ratchet's attempt to escape jail by having Drift play dead and how it does not even slightly work

“You've got your own issues, I get it, don't put 'em on me.” Yeah, I bet Drift does see a lot of Deadlock in Grit, especially with how much faith he has in the Decepticon cause

Love Ratchet not taking one more second of Drift's self-sacrificing heroics. “Did kicking you out of the Autobots really have this much of an impact on you?” is a fucking excellent question to ask him. I don't think it was any kind of special attachment to the Autobot cause that made his exile hurt this much, but more just him being rejected by a community he was almost starting to finally belong in. Like if the Circle of Light had kicked him out, it would've made him just as much of a mess

Empire of Stone 3

I was gonna make a joke about Hellbat embarrassing Drift in front of Ratchet by bringing up something awful he did as Deadlock but it actually is really sweet how that doesn't deter Ratchet from bringing him back to the Lost Light at all. He knows damn well what Drift has done and he's already come to his own conclusion, thank you very much

love this fuckin panel so much :')

I did not have a lot to say about this issue but honestly that's because I don't have a lot to say about the whole conflict what with Hellbat using the stone army to kill everything ever because I do not care lmAO I'm here for Drift and Ratchet and maybe a little Grit, he's pretty good

Empire of Stone 4

maneuver seven is just tossing a bitch

hell yeah, Drift, you assert that self worth

I'll be honest, I have not given a single shit about Hellbat or Gigatron this whole time, but there is something about their inability to move on from the war, their choice to kill and die in battle for the sake of it, not even for any cause, just killing and dying because it's all they can do. Drift was close to falling into that same trap, flying around and defeating rogue Decepticons because fighting is all he can do, but Ratchet's presence and Wing's memory helped him finally move on and let himself start to be something else

yeah this is kinda what I mean when I say the humor is really hit or miss lmAO this was a really good moment for Drift, finally realizing his worth as a person and I really wish it wasn't met with “that's pretty stupid.” Like I get that Ratchet was just jabbing, but like. You couldn't have had him say “it's about damn time” or something??? he's been waiting for Drift to have this realization for four million years, come on lmAO

good for Grit for moving on, too. Shame he never shows up again, at least not that I remember lmfAO I know for sure he's not in MTMTE or Lost Light, maybe he showed back up in another series and I just don't remember

[karlyanalora]

Drift takes one look at the Red Hood and goes "Oh."

This kid is Deadlock.

Came from the streets, drugs killed his mom, was given back some light only to have it ripped away in the most brutal way possible. He came back angry. He came back looking to kill. Red Hood claims it's about stopping the drugs, about protecting the innocent, but the brutality with which he takes out even low-level thugs...

But he believes in what he is doing. And he's not wrong that things have to change. But not like this.

All Drift sees is Deadlock, so proud to be a Decepticon.

All Drift wants to do is help Hood.

One problem: Red Hood hates him.

Drift shares his story and all Red Hood sees is weakness. Drift who traded in his guns for swords he has no true skill with. Drift who at one point swore of killing. Drift who let the Joker Overlord onto a ship full of civilians and then took the fall for it, letting the real idiot off scottfree.

All Jason sees is Dick in Drift. Especially when the man finds out enough to call the Red Hood "Jason."

He makes his distaste known, but Jason still owes Ratchet. Aint nobody messing with his medic and no way this hippy can keep anyone safe in Gotham.

Vigilante Drift with no holoform is very much a thing. Most bad guys run when he shows up, and while he wishes the homeless wouldn't, at least they aren't dead, and he can herd them toward Ratchet's new clinic.

This is how he meets Nightwing, and the two goobers hit it off. Imagine his surprise when he learns Nightwing is Red Hood's brother. There is much bonding over not knowing what to do with the once-dead boy. Nightwing's just happy that Drift can give him updates on Hood's health.

Batman now has a headache named Drift. What if he steps on somebody? But Dick is turning his children against him. They all like Drift, even if Damian keeps scoffing at his sword work. (Drift would love to introduce Robin to Cylonus.)

Batman would very much like the giant robot to go away. Drift has no clue what to make of him. Jason has opinions, but Drift's taking those with a grain of salt. Right now, Drift will settle for Batman not learning about Ratchet's true identity.

Reasons as to why I think it would be funny below:

-Cyclonus and Tailgate have been mentioned before but come on, it would be so funny. Here's Cyclonus that looks like a full on rogue even in his holoform and then there's his sunshine husband Tailgate that decides that he wants to be a hero. Cyclonus decides that sure, he'll go along with it if only to make his conjux happy. Too bad everyone thinks Cyclonus is the hero and Tailgate the sidekick.

-Ratchet has also already been mentioned but it would just be hilarious to see him try to tackle Gotham and all the shenanigans that comes with living in the city. I can also see him picking up Robin like a kitten.

-I just think Arcee and Damian would get along. Arcee is an ancient warrior that wields swords and Damian would take one look at her and go "I want to be like her when I grow up". Killer robot grandma and her little killer kid vigilante grandchild.

-Jazz would open a club and it would become the most popular place in Gotham. Fuck the Iceberg Lounge, Jazz's club is the place to be! Becomes the next Gotham celebrity, his himbo playboy persona on par with Brucie Wayne.

-Listen, Bumblebee is old. Old and tired and filled with rage. But he takes one look at the chaos that is Gotham, sees the homeless people and the struggling kids and decides that he has to do something to help. And if that means dropkicking Black Mask then by Primus-!

-Vigilante Drift. That's it. Gotham is so similar to Dead End and Drift knows that he could help people. So, he does. Mainly busts drug rings and protects the homeless population. Might accidentally become a gang leader.

-Riptide would 100% accidentally become a crime lord. He just stumbles into it. His goons know this but they just like him so much. He's nice to them, doesn't make them to terrible stuff and the pay is good. Riptide doesn't even know he's a crime lord, he thinks he's just in some kind of club.

-Accidental rogue/antihero Nautica. In her attempts to find a way back home to her own universe, she commits several crimes, breaks into Wayne Enterprise, leads the batfam on a 3 hour chase, starts a revolution and befriends Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy.

-Fortress Maximus to damn big for this damn city. Accidentally steps on the batmobile. Accidentally kidnaps Nightwing? Nightwing in turn listens to this 52 feet tall robot have an anxiety attack and calms him down. Now they are friends.

-Swerve living life in Gotham. He loves it. Yeah, it's chaos and people are a bit weird but it's also so exciting! The heroes and villains are so cool! He's got various fan blogs. Opens his own (human) bar and it becomes a hangout for rogue goons.

-Blurr starts working in the Iceberg Lounge as a bartender. His holoform is hot so he gets hit on a lot. He loves the attention. Penguin loves the revenue he brings in and promotes him to the poster boy of the place. Batman, as Bruce Wayne, decides to seduce Blurr to get some info on the Penguin. Shenanigans ensue.

-Little sad meow meow Waspinator gets found in the dumpsters by Damian and is subsequently adopted. Alfred takes one look at this pathetic bot and his heart breaks. Bruce returns home to find Waspinator in his living room, snuggled up in a blanket and asleep. Damian threatens to disown him if he makes Waspinator leave.

[dem0nsiget]

OCs, yay.

I’m bored and want to rant about my OCs (one in particular), so here we go.

Nightstar (who’s a femme), was a Decepticon basicallt from the start of the war, she was poor and didn’t really have much to her name, was taken in by Soundwave and trained to fight, do espionage, etc. 

As time went on, she became really good at fighting, mostly with swords, to the point that Megatron basically ran out of people’s to partner her up with because compared to her, they all sucked. So, he sent her to work for Turmoil for a bit, and there’s she got paired up with Deadlock, and they became very close friends. Not like romantically envolved (though she kinda slept around), but kinda big brother/little sister-ish. He heard from her how she started, and felts attached to her since he started in pretty much the same situation. 

Skip awhile, and before he tries to take power from Turmoil, Nightstar is sent off on a solo mission. When she gets back, she heard that Deadlock tried to mutiny and failed, and that he disappeared. After a short time, she gets tired of being around everyone (Deadlock basically ensured she wasn’t harassed, but with him gone, all bets are off), and leaves, subsequentally landing herself on the List. 

Skip a few million years, and her ship crashes on a planet, so she sends out a distress signal, to which several Lost Light members answer, Rodimus and Drift among them (mostly I see it set after LL), and Nightstar’s like ‘where the fuck did you go?’, and they have a whole cute reunion and what not, and she joins the crew, and that’s pretty much all I have so far, may add onto this.

[lightandspark]

AU idea…

With Cybertron in the brinks of nearly extinguished after the Great War, the remaining Cybertronians that survive try to rebuild the once prolific planet. Despite many great efforts, the politics and law enforcement especially the new Senate dreamlike that to bring Cybertron to a new era there has to be change. New laws. New ideas. A New Generation.

Thus… The Mating Protocol happened where it’s technically assigned arrange marriages given by the law.

Optimus is genuinely distraught as they are back where they started. Mechs and Femmes, anyone who reside on the planet, are to be blinded by a partner they either NEVER met or have any clue that if they can ever love them OR it’s with a former enemy rather than a friend.

Ratchet finds himself comforting a lot of friends and foes as they get their assigned partners, sighing heavily as he glanced down at his papers as he gets Deadlock. Looking sadly at his now former fiancée, Wheeljack, the pair separated sadly. So Ratchet was ready yet Deadlock wasn’t who he was when he first met him. No, Deadlock-… Drift was… quite… special in his optics. Or was he always just like that? Could Ratchet fall in love again?

While Jazz is trying to figure where his relationship with Prowl could stand now. They were… a good and productive duo during the war, Jazz grew to admire Prowl and… he grew to love him. However, Prowl was cold and rarely expressed his feelings Jazz slowly figured that everything was out duty in Prowl’s optics when they got assigned. Well, better make the best of it. Unaware, Prowl was overjoyed on being his mate as his love for Jazz drove him mad, that Prowl was extremely devoted and he would move the moon and back for his beloved. He just needs a little help to show it. Though, Prowl and Jazz would soon realize that their happiness could be robbed by the Senate that blinded them together. So Jazz asks, how far Prowl would go for them, if they stand as one and united, and if they could win a happy ending. Yes, Prowl would do anything for them.

Mirage absolutely DESPISE this new law, how could this even happen!? He was already raised in a higher society where he had to endure bots controlling his life including his potential suitors. NOW THIS?! Where is that damn freedom? The power to make his own decisions? The power to find his own beloved mate!? How could this even happen? Whatever happens now, he is NOT going to make this easy for his new “mate”. Unaware that Hound finds his reluctance rather… adorable. Much to Mirage’s dismay. Mirage isn’t going slouch at this mess no matter how cute Hound is.

Rodimus is stunned… he got Ultra Magnus. Ultra Magnus, one of the most fiercest warriors that fought by Optimus side and one of the most by the book mech there is. Primus, how did this even happen? They were so different and seemingly incompatible. Rodimus is convinced there is NO WAY a potential romance could bloom in this affair. But Ultra Magnus is determined to win his mate’s spark and prove to the mech of his greatest devotion and desire that “Yes,” they ARE suited for each other.

Bumblebee is trying hard not to cringe. He had Blitzwing. If Rodimus thought he was incompatible with his mate, Bumblebee thinks otherwise. The mech before him, they try murdering each other and fought each other on numerous occasions during the war. This was a disaster… so why is it that Blitzwing was acting kind… was it all pity? Was it a way to mock Bee? Whatever it is, Bee was determined to not lose himself to whatever plan his new ‘mate’ was planning. Unaware, Blitzwing’s plan was merely… to win his spark.

Greenlight isn’t in a good mindset… Lancer was presumed dead and the law was forcing herself to endure the life with a mate that she is getting thrown into. Arcee. Someone she dearly admired and adored but as a friend and colleague and fighter in the war. The arrangement was first awkward but slowly, Greenlight realized Arcee devotion to her and quite frankly their mating was a success with the birth of Gauge. Life was perfect… until a half dead Lancer comes back.

Knockout is pleased that he had Breakdown. The easily flustered Stunticon that flattered Knockout as he realized how devoted his new mate is to him. His spark was Breakdown’s and only Breakdown’s and vice versa… yet, they were happy their bond is at risk as the Senate’s demanding of sparklings. Questions are asked and the mates hear whispers that whether Con’s should be allowed even be together. Knockout is ready to fight. The Senate. The Law. The entirety of this planet all for one mech. His beloved Breakdown.

Then there Blaster, who wound up with the coldest con there is. Soundwave. They are so similar yet so different. The pair had their unflattering moments and Blaster is rather annoyed with this situation and his mate’s coldness, having to bite his glossa a few times until finally… he can’t. He demands Soundwave declare his hatred for him, that he KNOWS the quiet mech must despise him for being thrown into his arms all of the sudden due to this new law. Despite it hurts that his mate might hate him, Blaster needed that acknowledgment. Only for Soundwave to laugh. Not a quiet chuckle or a mere smirk, but a hard laugh as he threw his helm back and laughed. He then pins Blaster to the wall and mutters his the red mech drove him mad with desire and he does hate him… for making him fall in love. Much to Blaster’s bewilderment.

Worst out if this was possibly is for Windblade and Starscream as they get tied together in this mess. The Cityspeaker and the Second in Command of the Cons with a lot of demons within. Though, as the Chosen Ones, they play a picture perfect couple on the outside as they smile and wave and host parties for senators before calling it a night. Both are infuriating each other to the point that they either are yelling at each other about the corruptions of this new Senate to aggressively making out and proceed to help… repopulate the planet with a new generation. Though, as time past, the pair realize their places and find themselves turning to each other for comfort with the pains they hold within.

Inferno wasn’t planning to ever find a mate… despite he dreamt of finding love and though it would be nice, he accepted with the line of his work and how dangerous it could get… he doesn’t want his mate to ever worry for him. So when he was thrown to Red Alert as his mate, Inferno is shocked. Don’t get him wrong, he’s fond of Red Alert, they worked well during the war but to also be dismissed from his position to work things out with the mate (honourably too) Inferno fallen into an internalize conflict. He smiles and acknowledged Red Alert as a mate but Red Alert knows him far too well that Inferno gives him credit for. Inferno was enduring this… but Red Alert isn’t going to let it last for long. He was going to fight for Inferno’s happiness as well their own as Inferno starts to realize, maybe love isn’t something too much to ask for after all

Of course, Optimus is determine to figure it all out but it’s hard when considering… he is bind to Megatron himself. It’s horrible. But he knows, the reason their binding is to show Cybertron that the war has past and that he and Megatron united as one. Til All Are One. However, the burning tension of unsaid words before it all broke out… before the war, how Optimus can’t avoid Megatron’s angry glares. How Megatron can’t avoid Optimus’ knowing glances. How neither of them can avoid that burning desire within their mating protocols and their sparks desires… not for long anyway.

(Couples that are also bind together so far would be:

Tailgate x Cyclonus

Perceptor x Brainstorm (maybe)

Jumpstream x Dust Up

Swerve x Misfire

Velocity x Firestar

Náutica x Road Rage

Silverbolt x Slingshot

Lightspeed x Afterburner

Sandstorm x Octane

Blurr x Swindle

Possibly more but I’ll get to that later… maybe… eventually… I think?)

[anon-e-miss]

Assuming this is years after initial reveal of MerMechs are people and laws are in place.

Baby Nautica toddling after Ironhide refusing to leave. Congrats Optimus, it's a boat.

Optimus returns from his forced vacation with a Conjunx and a bubbly toddler attached to his ankle.

Jazz is very smug about this especially after the judgement he got for falling for a mermech from the others in the Prime's Cabinet. Prowl meanwhile just glimpses over from his lounging pool and offers a playdate while newborn Red Alert starfishes magnetized to his chest and the rest of the kids are splashing in the garden fountains which now have waterways connecting them to the major living area like sidewalks in various stages of transformation.

Ratchet is paranoid he's going to get attached next. (Tigershark Deadlock/Drift?)

I love Nautica being Ironhide's bitty. She is so tiny compared to him and you are several shades of fragged if you mess with her.

So many shades of fragged but none the victim will enjoy.

Jazz is smug. Prowl is pleased for more playmates for bitties and mer friend for himself.

I do like Tigershark Drift.

[equivocaleternity]

15 megop or 20 dratchet for love askmeme?

(read on ao3)

When Ratchet onlined, it was to the first new sight he’d seen in decades. There was no flat, endless wasteland, no trudging mass of mindless Decepticons in front of him. Just the clean walls of a small room—not that clean, actually, there was dust in the corners, but it wasn’t in ruins, and that was more than Ratchet ever thought—

Oh. He was thinking. He could think. He could process things other than pain and grief and a desperate wish to just die, anything to be free of Megatron’s mind endlessly devouring his own. He could think, and the thinking didn’t hurt. He could think, and his thoughts were his own. He could feel an absence in his mind, a lack that felt sweeter than he ever could have imagined. Megatron wasn’t there anymore. The link he’d felt for so long it felt like eternity was just—gone. If he were able, Ratchet would have cried.

“You’re awake!”

Ratch didn’t stiffen or turn in surprise at the new voice, but only because he couldn’t. He couldn’t move at all. Not even his optics. They were locked open and staring straight ahead. He didn’t have to move, though; the owner of the voice walked in front of him—white, red and gray, brief details of an alt mode that didn’t look like an Earth vehicle—and bent down until they were at eye level.

“Hi, Ratchet,” said a face Ratchet had never expected to see again.

Ratchet stared. It was all he could do.

“Oh, right, you can’t speak, can you? Hold on, I think I can fix that.”

Drift—Drift, of all people—moved forwards, hands disappearing under Ratchet’s line of sight. Touching Ratchet’s throat, probably. Ratchet couldn’t feel it.

Drift was here. How was Drift here?

“You were in pretty rough shape out there, you know. Still are, but I’ve been doing what I can to get you up and running. There. Try to speak now?”

Ratchet felt something clunk into place in his throat—and, oh, he could feel sensation, now. He tried to speak. It wasn’t easy, but his vocalizer clicked on after a few aborted attempts.

“Drift,” he said. “I mean-n—Deadlock. I—”

“You were right the first time, actually,” Drift—Drift—said. He smiled. “I’m back to Drift again. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, Ratchet.”

“Meg—Megatron-n-n—”

“Megatron? He’s dead. Almost didn’t believe it at first, but yeah. He’s definitely dead.”

Megatron was dead.

Ratchet had already known that—he’d known it to his spark, that blessed absence in his mind, but hearing it still lifted a weight from him, like he’d escaped the pull of a black hole.

“How-w-w—” Primus forsaken, he couldn’t speak.

“Easy, there, don’t strain yourself.”

Ratchet wished he had arms to cross. “How…did…you. You’re…here. How—”

“Medics really do make the worst patients, don’t they?”

“Not as bad-ad-ad as..Deceptic-cons,” Ratchet said, just to be ornery.

It got a laugh out of Drift. “And you’ve patched up enough ‘cons to know, huh? Bleeding spark Autobot. I’m serious, though! I’m playing it by guess here, Ratchet. If you mess your vocalizer up I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it again. But to answer your question—it’s a long story.”

Ratchet really wished he had arms to cross.

“And-nd I’m…so busy,” he said, giving Drift an unimpressed look as best he could with most of his face unresponsive.

“Alright, alright! Point made. Just—give me a moment, it’s hard to know where to start.”

“Thought you were—were dead,” Ratchet said. “M-Megatron—Megatron thought—how are-are-are—”

“Was that what people thought? Megatron too? Huh. Explains why I didn’t have to deal with hitmen. I thought maybe he just didn’t want to admit I defected.”

“D-d-d—”

“Defected? Sure did. A while ago, now.” He looked away. “I know it’s rich, me saying it, but I just…I got tired, Ratchet. I got tired of fighting. I got tired of being someone who hurts people just because I can. So I left. Cut contact completely, and just—left.”

“Knew you…could,” Ratchet said.

Drift looked back at him. “You—you really mean that, Ratchet?”

“Y-y-y—”

“Shh, shh, don’t hurt yourself!” He put his hands out like Ratchet was going to fall over and he had to catch him. When Ratchet stopped trying to get the word out, he slowly lowered them. “…thank you. Really. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Ratchet wanted to say more, but he could feel himself slowing down. Thinking was getting harder and harder.

“I’m…tired,” he said. “But I need—need to know-w what…happened.”

“And I’ll tell you,” Drift said. “Everything I know. But there’s no rush, Ratchet. You can rest if you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hold-d you…to that,” Ratchet said, and felt himself slip away.

-

Ratchet got used to life on Drift’s ship—life with Drift—with an ease that surprised him. They fell into a routine, of sorts; whenever Ratchet was awake and had the energy, Drift would work on repairing him, and Ratchet would give direction as best he could. Ratchet had never quite got used to being repaired; it wasn’t his pain tolerance, or that he was afraid of injury, so much as it simply feeling odd. No matter who was doing the repairing, Ratchet always felt like he should be helping them. He knew it was a ridiculous thing to feel, but he’d never been able to shake the worry that he was being lazy just laying around.

It felt even stranger, now. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been in this bad shape, but more than that he’d forgotten what everything felt like. Objectively, he knew it hadn’t been that long. Ratchet’s chronometer was broken, but his hadn’t been, and if Ratchet thought back to before the link was broken, he could access the time logs. Twenty years. A fraction of his life, and yet it made everything before it feel so far away.

Drift helped, though. Whenever Ratchet started to get tired, Drift would put away his tools and they would switch to just…talking. Ratchet had half-expected them to run out of conversation once they’d finished telling each other what they knew about everything that had happened on Earth, but they kept finding new topics.

It’d taken them a while to finish telling each other about Earth, though. They’d both had a lot to catch up on.

Ratchet knew much more than Drift did about events before Megatron had razed the planet, but Drift had learned a good bit of what had happened since then—such as the fact that where they were now was a dead zone. The Dead Zone. Cybertron was a lost cause, but Earth was slowly healing, a home for both humans and nebulons, now. There were places, though, that the humans declared off-limits. Epicenters so radioactive it wasn’t safe for organics to stay in long, and where no signals could get in or out, even with Cybertronian and Nebulan technology. Cybertronians were in no danger, but the humans had made it part of the treaty that no Cybertronian set foot in a dead zone—trust was being rebuilt, but slowly, and the idea of areas where Cybertronian activity couldn’t be monitored made them jumpy, apparently. The site of Megatron’s death, referred now simply as the Dead Zone to differentiate from the others, was especially taboo, and Cybertronians had been forbidden from entering even to retrieve the dead.

“That’s why I came,” Drift had told him. “I was going to pay my respects, give you a funeral if I could. No one else would have gotten in trouble for it—I wasn’t part of the treaty, and there’re clauses about ‘rogue, unaffiliated, or uninformed Cybertronians.’ I’d be punished, since I’m aware of the treaty, but no one else would be unless it’s proved they knew I was going to do it.”

It was painful, Ratchet wouldn’t lie, to know that there were Cybertronians, Autobots, his friends, on the same continent as him, and they’d left his body to rust, but it had soothed the sting when Drift told him they’d fought for a provision to be made allowing to enter with the sole intent of collecting the dead in a hundred year’s time. Starscream, of all people, had been the one to propose it.

The universe outside seemed a tired one, but a kinder one, in many ways. Ratchet grieved all the losses suffered—somehow he’d stopped believing Optimus would ever really die, and even now, poor Buster’s death hit him as hard as some of his oldest comrades’ demises had affected him during the war—but the idea that the war was really, truly, over…there weren’t words that could even begin to describe how it made him feel.

-

“Well, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Drift said, sitting back on his heels.

Ratchet grimaced. “What’s the bad news?”

Drift gave him a wry look. “You know, I was hoping you would ask for the good news first, but I really should’ve known better, huh? The bad news is that I’ve fixed you up as much as I can without more parts and materials I have here, which was also going to be the good news.”

“Oh,” Ratchet said.

He hadn’t realized Drift had so little to work with. He’d a good job—most of Ratchet’s internals were covered enough that he wasn’t at serious risk as long as he was kept in a clean, stable environment, but there were still plenty of gaps. Considering he wasn’t much more than a head and shoulders, with his torso just a makeshift container for his insides, the fact that Drift was already out of medical supplies didn’t bode well.

“Don’t worry, though,” Drift said. “I can get more parts easy. I’ll just have to make a quick trip outside. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a bit. I wish I could give you my comm link, but even if comms worked here your comm system is pretty busted, and I don’t have the knowhow to fix it. In any case, you shouldn’t need it. I’ll only be gone a little while, and then—”

“Where are you getting the parts?”

Drift looked at him in surprise. “From outside,” he said. “There’s a bunch of empty frames not far from here.”

“No,” Ratchet said. “We’re not using them.”

“But you need—”

“No,” Ratchet said. His vocalizer grated the word to harsh noise. “I won’t—I don’t want—haven’t they suffered enough?”

Drift went quiet.

“I can’t—I can’t use them,” Ratchet said. “I can’t make them nothing but parts again.”

After a moment, Drift nodded. “Okay, Ratchet,” he said, softly. “I understand. I’ll think of something else.”

He stood up. Ratchet couldn’t see his face when he was standing up—was he looking at Ratchet? Was he upset? Frustrated? Ratchet—he couldn’t take from the Decepticon dead, but there wasn’t any other option if he wanted to get fixed. The likelihood of finding materials suitable for a Cybertronian as damaged and repair-intensive as Ratchet was anywhere in the Dead Zone that didn’t come from a Cybertronian was vanishingly rare. Human machinery worked in a pinch—Ratchet would know, he’d used it enough times, back before…back before Megatron. But it had a much higher rejection rate, and Ratchet only used it when he really had to, or for temporary patch jobs. Ratchet needed almost a full frame restoration. To send Drift off hunting for parts that wouldn’t even work wouldn’t be fair to him.

“Drift,” Ratchet started, unsure how to continue. “You’ve done more than you had to already. I won’t ask you to—”

“What? Sorry, I was lost in thought. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Ratchet blinked. “You—you do?”

Drift knelt back down. “The perfect solution, actually! You don’t want to use the spare frames, and I saw enough of the Dead Zone coming in to guess that there’s not going to be much good searching the rest of it, right? But we can’t go offplanet, either—you’d never make the trip through the atmosphere—so the answer’s simple. My ship is small, but it’s made out of good stuff. I won’t be able to do everything, like limbs, but I can use the plating and wiring to get you fixed up as best as I can.”

Ratchet stared at him. “You can’t do that,” he said. “You need your ship. You can’t get out any other way, it’s weeks to the edge of the Dead Zone, and the terrain is treacherous, you’ve talked about it! How will you leave? How will you—”

Drift put a hand on Ratchet’s patchwork shoulder, and Ratchet stuttered into silence.

“It’s okay, Ratchet,” Drift said. He was smiling. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m not going anywhere.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hi! I loved the way you wrote drift dealing with his past in the oxygen prompt! So can I ask that you write some deadlock x human reader? Before he became an autobot. I cant really think of an scenario, so its ok if you dont write it anyway. Thanks for your work! Keep it up!

Thank you, I do adore my hippy bot trying to get past his former life... With that being said, let's see if I can write him as a bad bot.

"Hold still big guy, almost got it..."

Deadlock mostly heeded your instructions, but he did wince as the soldering gun melded the wound shut on his chest, sharpened dentae baring in pain as you patched up the worst of the slash. A bright red streak as long as your arm flashed at its brightest before cooling, and you felt the mech beneath you relax. With the worst of the injury dealt with, he'd begin to self repair soon. This wound wouldn't be his last.

"Better?" you asked, somewhat softly due to how tired he obviously was. Sighing softly with a nod, he looked down at you with his bright red optics, gingerly tapping the welding torch in your hand as he did so. The old thing had saved his life on more than one occasion.

"Much. A shame it can't remotely deactivate pain receptors, but it's better than bleeding." he commented a little idly, not intending to insult you but stating the facts. No longer a Decepticon but not an Autobot either, he needed you for the wounds he suffered in fights with both sides. Who would have thought learning how to weld would one day save a life so important to you on the regular?

Smiling softly as the injury cooled to nothing more than warped metal, the alien equivalent of a scar, you moved to slide off his chest and get back to the ground. "I don't have any of your fancy alien technology in my garage, sorry."

A firm but careful hand cupped your body to stop you. Not surprised, you raised a brow at his fanged grin and glimmering optics. For a once merciless killer, he looked more like a mischievous little scamp.

"Having you in here is worth a little pain." he purred in his low, flirty voice. Though he made a habit of getting playful at the worst possible times, this was a new one for him. Perhaps he'd just been playing up the severity of his injury to get sympathy from you...

"No messing around, doctor's orders." you said, smiling but firm in your declaration. The last thing you needed was him messing up the patch while it healed, as you did not have the ability to keep fixing him every time he got playful. Though he'd left his former cause for your sake, he seemed determined to give you plenty of trouble regardless.

The hand at your back got more possessive, staying loose enough to ensure you weren't at all uncomfortable but making it clear he had no intention of being cooperative. You were pushed right back up his chassis so he could smirk up close and personal. "I'd love to see how you plan on ordering me around, tiny."

It became clear you weren't going to talk him down without considerable headache. Rolling your eyes, you tossed your gloves aside and allowed him to get the welding torch out of the way, laying down to get comfortable as you met his gaze without backing down.

"I can think of a few ways..."

[cozzzynook]

In a happier AU, Rung survives to give much needed therapy to Springer and his many issues. Rung clears his schedule to unpack probably the worst case of mommy and daddy issues he’s come across. Part of Springer’s issues is how his carrier had managed to amass a harem that includes his sire, his stepsire, and the fucking constructicons.

Rung takes pity on this poor mech and points him in First Aid’s direction. If anyone understands, it’ll be the poor medic who thought Pharma was his sire only to find out it was actually the notorious Deadlock.

Springer and First Aid are able to talk about it and laugh at each other’s mess of a family. First Aid shares that he didn’t talk to Ratchet for a long time and by the time he did, Ratchet was carrying again and he’s not convinced they’re not having a do-over baby. Springer shares how he didn’t even know he was carried until Impactor got drunk and told him which gave him abandonment issues. (Rung would’ve tried to get Rodimus to talk to Springer but Rodimus is still very much in denial about being the creation of the prime and the mad scientist Decepticon)

First Aid and Springer become close friends, Springer providing much needed comfort when Aid’s younger sibling is born. Aid returns the favor when Springer’s grandpa Kup passes of old age.

At some point, First Aid asks Springer to be his amica but Springer rejects this, asking they be Conjunx instead.

I love everything about this & their parents owe them so much love & therapy oh my gosh….

I just know when Springer & First aid have a bitty after a VERY VERY LONG TIME…first aid does not let his creators know

They find out on accident when First aid and springer are leaving jazz & prowls house after a playdate with their grandcreators. Meaning jazz, prowl & tarantulas - they share prowl but only the two of them ( they also have an odd thing together jazz & tarantulas so really they’re a throuple )

Ratchet and drift see first aid holding this huge bitty that looks like springer and they just stare shocked.

Springer..uses his frame to block first aid from seeing them and carries his conjunx home.

They get a phone call from springer telling them not to contact his conjunx and let first aid reach out first.

They agree after awhile.

I’m sorry but them having a do over baby before trying to get their relationship with first aid together pissed me off lmao

[transformers-valiant-keepers]

I put so much investment into Roxie and Dadlock lately (I’m sorry) and it's all I ever think about them bc who doesn't love found family tropes. For TFTN, I took in key elements of characters, backstory and lores from IDW and incorporated the ideas into my own for TFTN.

I’ve been listening to Lasting Impression by Silent Descent when writing up Dadlock’s life (which probably fitting).

Trigger warnings for mentions of discrimination, drug use, implied dubcon, medic, shadowplay / mnemosurgery(?), child abuse, depression, implied suicide, ptsd trauma(?). 

I’ll put all of this under readmore

I've been thinking about how much similarities between Roxie and Drift in having to hide certain things about themselves from the society--with Roxie being deaf who has to constantly cover her hearing aids with her long hair, and Drift was a forged triple changer. 

Triple changers cybertronians bear the brunt of discriminations for being so different and the Functionalist Council saw them as a threat to Cybertron's future and the caste systems. Techno-organics also shared the similar reaction for being much different from others and were turned away by Functionalist medics.

It was pretty telling what Drift had gone through in his life… Before Roxie was constructed with his spark, before the Greatsword connected to his spark while unaware of the intentional true purpose in store for him and Roxie later on, and before Dai Atlas took him in to the Samurai clan. 

He did not start off as a good life living on the streets and homeless on Rodion. He was an independent, mostly kept to himself, barely opening up to anyone. He endured survival instincts living on the streets, and learnt self-defence battle protocols to defend himself when necessarily. 

Obtaining Energon for refuel wasn’t easy. He went through a dark place of sleeping rough, hooked on circuit boosters to spare the pain and selling himself for Energon through sexual activities. It wasn’t his choice nor how many times had he lost count when he came close to almost-deactivation from certain outcomes.

He never forgot the time he visited the medibay clinic to be patched up and to feel safe. That was the first time he saw Ratchet.

It was not the vivid life Drift wanted to remember for discussion. He spared the dark details of his early life and post-Shadowplay-to-Autobot’s assassin era from Roxie, because it’s not something he wanted to subject her to that exposure, even for one so young and carefree who was not exposed to the Functionalist era. He only shared his life after Dai Atlas approached and took him in, which changed his life completely, to his life amongst the Samurai clans. Dai Atlas was the closest thing he would call to a Sire. He became familiar with the likes of Cyclonus and Axe.

Axe and Cyclonus became his best friends who later became his Amica Endurae. Axe does not understand the life Drift went through--he had experienced living rough--but he was the only person he could trust enough to vent to. Cyclonus, on the other hand, understood what he went through and offered her shoulder for him to vent.

Crystal City was the safest place it had been in so long for Drift, not counting the fact a particular medical clinic had been relatively safe away from the backend alleys. Everything was good afterwards, he became a trained swordmech. It takes some adjustment for him to get used to sleeping in an actual berth provided for his own amongst other things--including Energon for refuel and to live. He did meet Ratchet, despite them having met long before when Drift lived on the rough streets.

Drift received upgrades to his frame, putting the past behind him to start anew under Dai Atlas’ mentorship, and touching the Greatsword had given him a second chance to move on from his past (obvious to the fact that the Greatsword had chosen him for a reason, or what fate had in store for him).

Becoming a Samurai was the best life-changer for him.

The Functionalists Council had arranged for Drift to be taken and captured (all the while, Pharma had secretly played a part in it) and was taken straight to the Institute where he was subjected to Shadowplay against his will.

Many years later, he eventually discovered Roxie’s existence… and somehow learnt she is his Kindred. And that instinct promptly activated his paternal Sire Coding within both his and Deadlock alter-ego’s programming. 

Life for Drift was royalty fucked up after Shadowplay had changed him into a deadly, fearless assassin with Emperor Nemesis as his handler (this was revealed in Prologue Part One). He was not known as Drift, he became Deadlock--likely a case of an alter-ego formed as the result from his traumas. Before all that discovery, he met Windblade and Perceptor who became two important figures in his life and opened up his spark. As a reminisce of his early days forcing to hide the fact he’s a triple changer, Windblade had to hide her cityspeaker ability whereas Perceptor had to hide his outlier ability and refrained himself from reading others’ thoughts. They hid this from the Functionalists and found themselves form a connetion with Drift after he saved them from unforseen situations. Drift knows what it’s like to hide and pretend, and sworn to sercery to keep both Windblade and Perceptor safe. He fell in love with Windblade and Perceptor--with an emotional deep connection with the young cityspeaker and scientist--but he never got to tell them both after they got separated apart from each others.

Roxie was constructed cold with her spark being a donor from Drift’s, thus forming a strong bond between the two--such bond between a Sire and a Kindred are considered rare in some cases. This is known as Cognatio Endurae.

Though, Roxie… didn’t have a good start after being subconsciously locked away in a stasis pod by the Emperor’s doings. The sad thing is? Drift does not know whether she was physically abused constantly through the bond whenever he was resistant against being controlled, or forced to obey commands, or goes against authority orders--and the thought alone had really broken him.

He tried to save her the first time but was caught out and forced to watch in horror as The Emperor abused Roxie in front of his optics--which played into the triggers whenever he saw Roxie was harmed and he shifted into his Deadlock persona way later on. Yes, Drift and Deadlock alter ego both genuinely care for Roxie. 

Techno-organics were not well-known to Cybertronians until the 22nd or 23rd Century, but one with an organic human DNA is considered rare. Now for Roxie, being a techno-organic and all… it wasn't easy to bring her up. Drift is new to parenting and can be a worrywart over her. His past actually helped him to adapt and care for her--he eventually grows into a better person than he used to be. 

Though, what Drift never prepared for… was Roxie diagnosed with severe hearing loss, aka Deaf / Hearing Impaired, in both audial receptors. He went as far to start his research and how to help her. He is patient and relied on the bond to communicate with her, he taught her to lipread--because he had little knowledge of sign languages. Once they get their servos on functioning Hearing Aids for her, she can hear their voices. It wasn't the best or helpful to her, Drift was relieved she was responsive to his voice like a sense of familiarity to her.

Due to the immense strong bond and prioritising Roxie first before himself, Drift turned off his pain sensors to take in the burdens and sensed her emotions and pains.

But her upbringing had its moments. Roxie hated hearing tests. It made her extremely stressed over the noise levels and the lowest ringing noises were the worst of all. She was a victim to disability discrimination by society, which she was completely shunned out and struggled to make any friends. It did hurt her and her hearing wasn't perfect that the kids relentlessly teased her for her difficulties--the aftermath forced her to cover ears and hearing aids with her long hair to hide her disability. 

She was dejected and left out, unsure whether to question where she would fit in in this universe. Drift sensed this coming through the bond and tried his best to comfort her as a father wanting to understand her. Roxie’s struggles with deafness had impacted on her mental health and she went through a dark place succumbing to negative voices and far too anxious to socialise with anyone.

She would cry herself to sleep with a wish how badly she wanted to hear, and bottled all of her emotions and issues to herself. She found it completely hard to talk or open up about her feelings--even to Drift and Axe. Such intrusive thoughts prone her despair into an emotional crying mess leading to Drift exposed his spark chamber to guide and soothed Roxie out of an anxiety attack keeping her focus onto his calming, pulsing spark and enfolded within his EM field filled with nothing more than a comforting familial love.

Suffice to say, Drift had coaxed gently, without pressuring her, got her to open up to him and listened to her confide in him. One time, she accidentally slammed Drift’s doorwing, which was very sensitive, when her emotions got the best of her during an outburst and of course, Roxie felt completely bad afterwards.

Meeting new people was difficult for her, much less making new friends without the unnecessary attention from adolescent organic males. Due to the society looking down on disabled people, Roxie doesn’t want to let anyone in, something that was passed on from her Sire, without putting her guarded wall down and succumbing to heartaches. She stayed--remained--close to Drift and Wing. She trusts them and they’re the only ones she relied heavily on for their support and speak on her behalf.

Beyond that, there were complications on their welfare over the years hiding on Earth, especially when Roxie’s health was concerned. Her height growth was stunted and slowed throughout her activated age. (At eighteen activated age as example, she stood at 5ft 4in). However, there’s major issues Drift and Axe had to deal with rationalizing Energon usage after the first time they watched Roxie overcome with extreme fatigue from low Energon. They were alerted by this despite the three of them living pretty rough to hide out on Hedonia without detecting the Autobots--they moved from one hideout to another, erasing their presence from their previous accommodations. Moving to a new place made Roxie unsettled the first few nights.

Drift’s early life resurfaced given the living arrangements on Hedonia, he was willingly to sacrifice his Energon for Roxie and replenish her energy and to avoid her body going into stasis shock. He had considered an Energon transfer reserved for emergencies only just for Roxie alone, and the process was risky that Axe had berated him for it on a dangerously low Energon withdrawal. Axe could understand due to Energon being scarce and trying to save as much credits that he had gone further to search and provide fuels for the three of them to survive.

Had they lived on Cybertron, specifically in the roughest places, Drift would’ve given away a full Energon to Roxie and spared little usage for himself to live through another day.

"A good Sire would do anything for their Kindred" Drift told Axe. And the truth is, Roxie was a beacon of light to Drift through the darker aspects of his life, even with being there for her through her low days.

That's as far I've written from my head about these two and I'm having many feelings over these two.

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

How about the similar found family HCs ask with adopted techno-organic daughter but one for the Lost Light's Drift and Ratchet?

Look, Drift is a good parent but Primus, Ratchet is a much needed presence and parental figure because this kid has zero common sense after having been raised by Deadlock for most of her life. Someone bothers her? She chops off their hands as a warning. She wants to be taken seriously? She fires a warning shot in the middle of a crowd to show that she’s not to be messed with. Really, she is so out of touch with how to behave with people now that the war is offer and she doesn’t need to be cold to survive. Lucky for her, Ratchet is gonna straighten her out.

While Drift is the dad she goes to when she wants someone to vent to and talk about emotions and stuff. Ratchet is the one she goes to when she needs to solve a problem and don’t know what to do. He keeps it real and is straight to the point. That’s not to say that he’s not emotionally connected with her. Ratchet treats her like his own kid and is very protective of her, he just shows it in his own, grumpy way.

One time she walked into the medbay with one of her arms detached and Ratchet freaked the fuck out. He was scolding her the entire time he was putting her arm back where it belongs and when he finally started to calm down, Drift arrived and started scolding her too which only made Ratchet join him. They only do it out of love though, please don’t be reckless and get hurt, they are both old and their sparks can’t handle too much stress.

[overwatchworks]

Cutetober: Comforts of Home

Before he could step any further, cold steel hit the bottom of his chin, the point on the end digging against his trachea dangerously.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

A much rougher and more robotic voice than he was used to, but still recognizable. Jesse relaxed his hold on Peacekeeper, letting out a little breath as Genji stared back at him.

When Jesse had seen the arm laying obscured under the gravel and debris, he had felt something in his stomach drop. Genji’s arm. It had a trail of black and red in thick lines, like something had dragged through the small pool of it. Cables, perhaps. It was his prosthetic one, after all. 

The gunslinger ran to pick it up, the fingers cold and limp, making him uneasy. He’d held that same hand, felt it’s warmth against his palm, the slight but constant whirr of parts moving beneath it. Like it really was alive. There had not been any distress calls over the comms, which was another thing that drove Jesse’s concerns up. Either Genji’s comm had been damaged, or he had been too damaged to use his comm. 

Always a lovely thought to drive the heart rate up. 

Jesse climbed over the rubble carefully, following the trail of cybernetic blood left in smears or droplets here and there. It was getting dark, and the smoke from the fires around him had already been making his search more labourious. Jesse waved a hand in front of his face, squinting and coughing against his fist quietly. Their enemy had fled already, sure, but that did not mean he was safe in the slightest. 

Soon, gangs of scavengers would be coming around to pick through the bodies, see if there was anything valuable on them. Weapons, clothes, information. A lot could be learned from a battlefield. And Jesse was only one person on it, searching for someone that might not even be there.

“McCree, dropship leaves in ten. You better hurry up.”

Jesse cursed, startled by the voice, his comm loud in the otherwise eerie silence.

“Yeah, I’m workin’ on it,” He muttered, stepping over bent metal rods and spikes of concrete, heat from a fire beneath them wafting up unpleasantly. Before he could step any further, cold steel hit the bottom of his chin, the point on the end digging against his trachea dangerously.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

A much rougher and more robotic voice than he was used to, but still recognizable. Jesse relaxed his hold on Peacekeeper, letting out a little breath as Genji stared back at him. Eyes red pinpricks, part of his faceplate broken off, leaving shards of metal and scraps of black. Behind all that, his reconstructed jaw could be seen, sharp bits of carbon fiber and metal molded to look like teeth, the space between them gaping and dark. 

Blood dripped down in a stream over one of his eyes, new scars hidden underneath a layer of dirt and smoke. Jesse could tell something was off, just in Genji’s eyes alone. They were dull, almost like when he dissociated, but there wasn’t any fear in them. Just empty. He still had not lowered his katana.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Jesse nodded, tapping the blade with two of his fingers and pushing it aside lightly when he felt no resistance. Genji’s eyes drifted to the side, unfocusing as his arm dropped. The gunslinger took his wrist gently, slowly sliding his hand down to take Genji’s weapon. His knuckles were white. Jesse stepped closer.

“Come on, Gen. We gotta go. Ship’s waitin’ on us.”

Genji stayed unmoving, swaying a bit as his eyes fluttered.

“Genji? Can you hear me?” Jesse asked softly, worry seeping into his tone. He reached up to brush some of the blood from the ninja’s face, trying to ground him. Genji’s eyes closed briefly, and he leaned into the touch. 

Then, he inhaled sharply, jerking back as his hand snapped up, grabbing Jesse’s wrist hard enough for him to feel the bone strain.

“Do not touch me.”

Glowering and harsh, Jesse doing his best to hold back his wince and keep an even face.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again. We have to go, now,” He repeated calmly, though, his voice hardened when Genji’s grip only tightened.

“Let me go.”

The ninja blinked a few times, releasing Jesse’s arm slowly. Confusion flickered across his face before it paled.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine, we gotta go. Can you walk?” Jesse interrupted, getting a single nod in affirmation.

“Alright, follow me.”

Their pace was light and quick, Jesse tugging Genji along whenever he slowed, the ninja silent the entire way back. He would not look Jesse in the eye. The dropship finally came into sight, the pilot sighing and waving them forward from the open doors.

“Get on, you two! We’re already twenty minutes past scheduled departure time because of your slow asses!”

“We don’t leave people behind,” Jesse snapped at her as he passed with Genji in tow, getting a scoff.

“Yeah, and I waited so relax, hot rod,” She grumbled, climbing into the front and closing the doors. 

They took off as Jesse sat down with a heavy sigh, letting Genji be fussed over by the medic on hand for this particular mission. The kid was new, but he knew what he was doing. Sharp words of reprimand were followed by a fearfully muttered “what will Dr. Ziegler think?” had Genji looking down, properly chastised. 

Jesse made sure to keep an eye on him throughout the flight back, but after that, it was off to the med bay with the cyborg. Somewhere Jesse was not allowed to follow. Genji went with the nurses solemnly, gaze fixed on the ground in front of him. Jesse watched him go, something about his behaviour sitting wrong in the back of his mind, but not far enough from the usual to pick out. 

With another sigh, the gunslinger pulled out a cigarillo, taking the opposite route to give Reyes a post-mission report.

--- It was a little past midnight two days later that Genji came back to the room, Jesse scrolling through information on Deadlock Gorge absently. Just keeping tabs. He closed it down quickly when he heard the door beep open and shut, brows raising when he saw Genji. 

His prosthetics were covered with a tight black synth skin, everything back to clean and pristine, faceplate fixed into place once more. He only had a few pieces of tape over some cuts visible above the metal fixed over the lower half of his face, but other than that, he seemed fully healed. 

If it weren’t for that look in his eyes telling him the opposite. Sunk in and exhausted, guilt dancing behind them as he went to his bed and sat on it quietly, back facing Jesse.

“Hey. Glad to see you back in one piece.”

No response. So it would be one of those nights. 

Jesse set aside his tablet, sliding off his bed and walking over to Genji’s. He trailed his fingers over the ridges of the ninja’s spine, metal warm and little spots glowing beneath his fingertips. Squeezed the nape of his neck gently, leaning closer, but keeping enough space between them for Genji to pull away, should he want to.

“You feelin’ any better?”

A tiny shake of the head, Genji’s shoulders scrunching up slightly. He was shivering. Jesse hummed softly, taking off his flannel and draping over Genji’s shoulders instead. Synthetic fingers tugged the material closer to him weakly. Jesse sat down on the bed next to Genji, leaning on his arm and tipping his head to the side to see his face.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’m sorry. For what happened,” Genji murmured, Jesse raising a brow.

“‘S alright. Happens to the best of us.”

“No, I...I knew it was you and I still. I still could not pull myself out of it.”

“Gen,” Jesse started, urging the ninja to look at him with a touch to the chin, Genji doing so reluctantly.

“It’s okay. I get it. You’d lost a lot of blood and were paranoid, I went in knowing that may have been the case. You figured it out in the end.”

“I was going to kill you. Jesse, I almost killed you...! I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t see my arm and I thought you were him! I thought it was that night again but...I knew it was not. It was messing with my head and...I’m sorry. I should have had better control,” Genji told him softly, words murmured but frantic, like he had been holding them in for too long. Jesse could understand that. 

He nodded a bit, waiting to see if Genji had more to say, curling his pinky around two of the ninja’s fingers.

“You...You got mad, didn’t you? It’s the only thing I remember clearly. Angela did too, she always does, because she knows that I—”

His voice stopped short, Jesse frowning slightly at the way Genji’s eyes darted to him before looking back down quickly.

“She knows that you what?”

Genji shook his head, curling up under the flannel a bit more. A glance down showed him the ninja’s fingers digging into his thigh hard enough to leave impressions. Jesse had seen this before, when he had caught Genji in the training rooms tearing into the wires on his prosthetic wrist, wakazashi cutting through them messily. 

The gunslinger looked right at Genji, waiting until he glanced up again.

“That you do it on purpose. Gettin’ hurt and tearin’ up your prosthetics?”

A hesitation, then, a whispered, “Yes.”

“Gen, look at me, darlin’.”

He did, eyes tired and unsure. Jesse took the ninja’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them as he spoke.

“Listen. I wasn’t mad then, and I’m not now, either. I’m just worried about you. I saw your arm there in the dirt and I wasn’t sure if you’d be alive when I found you. And when I did find you, I could tell how out of it you were. It just scared me, sugar. A lot of the shit you pull does, I’m not gonna lie.”

“This whole thing you do to...Hurt yourself here, it scares the livin’ shit outta me. You mean so much to me, Gen. I don’t like seein’ you in pieces, but even when you aren’t physically, I can tell you are up there,” Jesse reached up and tapped lightly against Genji’s temple, then let his hand slide down to cup his cheek.

“I know it’s not always easy, but you do know that you can come get me if you ever need anythin’. Anythin’ at all. I got your back, and I wanna see you...At least okay. I don’t know if either of us can really be happy here, but I wanna see you be okay. And I know it ain’t much, but I’m here for you. Please don’t forget that.”

Genji nodded, face tucked into his forearms, eyes trained on the floor. Jesse wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging gently until Genji leaned into him. Pressed a kiss to his temple, the ninja taking off his faceplate and setting it aside as he moved closer.

“You wanna get some rest for me, darlin’?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Let me know if you need anythin’, alright?”

“Stay, please...” Genji whispered, grabbing Jesse’s fingers, squeezing them gently. He was still staring at the floor, still avoiding eye contact. Still holding on to the flannel, still leaning into the cowboy. Jesse smiled, giving him another little peck on the top of his head.

“Sure thing, hon. Just let me change real quick.”

Genji nodded, allowing Jesse to stand and get into some pyjamas, watching him move around the room with his chin on his knees. Jesse turned out the lights and hopped into bed next to the ninja when he was through, feeling him wiggle and shift to get comfortable. 

Felt his lashes flutter against his chest, breath a warm puff as he exhaled slowly, relaxing into the gunslinger’s hold.

“Thank you, Jess,” Genji murmured, just barely a whisper.

“Of course. I got you, Gen. Get some rest.”

The red light shining in his peripheral dimmed, then disappeared, Genji’s breath evening out after a few minutes. Jesse pulled the blanket up over his shoulder, tucking it in before he closed his eyes too. ~~

[vetoing-clocks]

Decepticon!Hot Rod Anniversary Q&A

Yes! It happened! On November 13th, 2018, I posted a vignette on Ao3 based on the idea “What if Hot Rod had become a Decepticon in ‘Autocracy’ (and dated Deadlock)?”

365 days and 44,8k words later, the deceptirod AU is still going and I still have plans and ideas for it.

It’s been a huge year for me. I learned a lot as a writer. I achieved some things in my professional path. I made friends in the fandom and got some loyal readers.

I wish I’d noticed sooner that the anniversary was coming up, I would have had something written for today. Since that couldn’t be, I want to thank everyone that sent questions for this hastily put together q&a. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into this little universe I’ve been building.

Everything’s under the cut.

As usual, thank you for reading these fics. This series wouldn’t have gone beyond that first oneshot without the interest and support of all of you.

Anon: So it’s implied events pan out the same as they do when Roddy steals the matrix for the Autobots. Have you ever thought about what happens after? Would Deadlock/Drift’s arc have still happened?

Fun fact: I’ve got this whole AU planned up to the point in which “Transformers: Lost Light” ended. Saying more would be a spoiler.

@kyrinthewarrior​: How did you come up with the idea of Thunderbird and Doctor?

Last year I was writing a canon divergent TFP fic (that’s been on hiatus for over a year, I’m so sorry) in which Starscream realized that he’d never, ever win and decided to become neutral. One of the plot points in it was that Starscream accidentally inspired the Vehicons to start a liberation movement, which included taking names and picking the pronouns they felt fit each one best. Doctor is a character from there, but the name’s different in that fic (hasn’t shown up yet in that fic, actually). I didn’t see any reason to invent a new character to be the medic in Pache when I could just grab one that already existed.

Thunderbird was, like every TF OC I make, an accident. I needed a character with information that could interact with Hot Rod and tell him the things he had no way of finding out on his own (the Great Carrot knows I love Rod, but he’s not in charge of anything that would give him access to privileged information). Now, we have plenty of cold and serious calculating characters, so I decided to write someone that would purposefully try to get everyone to think he’s harmless and good. Someone you’d want to be friends with and would never ever suspect of having a mental file in which he keeps every sign of weakness you’ve displayed around them and who would sell you to Satan for a corn chip if they felt the corn chip was more important than you. Then I went to my list of potential OC names, picked the one I liked best, and Thunderbird was born. The heelys, though, are there because I find them funny (this AU, like many things I do, runs on a delicate balance of things that I love to read, things I find fascinating to explore, and things that appeal to my sense of humor).

@marsreds​: Favorite line you've published?

“I’m sorry, but I love you.”

@marsreds​: Favorite line you've written?

Oof, this is hard, but I’m gonna go with, “Because something has to matter. Because something has to be done. Because there’s nothing else I can do.”

Although I’m also terribly fond of Doctor’s lines about why Medicine’s patron is Adaptus, not Primus. I have a whole mental essay about why Primus being Medicine’s patron doesn’t work, and I’m turning it into a fic one day.

@marsreds​: What do you look forward most to writing?

In general, any bit that foreshadows unwritten fics, or any bit that’s a callback to a previus story (especially when it’s a fic I haven posted yet). Basically, bits that should be rewarding to anyone that decides to re-read the series.

@marsreds​: What even set you off to make this au in the first place?

We were on Discord and someone started talking about how easily Hot Rod could have become a Decepticon. We started talking about how some things would have gone differently, but also how we could keep the canon timeline pretty much the same, and it led to “Hot Rod realizes how messed up their faction has become, so he steals the Matrix anyway and gets shot.” That’s when a line started forming in my mind and I had to write it. 90 minutes later, “The cold” had been written, and from there I had to keep playing in the sandbox. There was too much to explore.

@marsreds​: Can you believe that we didn't know each other when you published the first installment of this?

Wait, we didn’t????????? Didn’t you link me to the server where this whole thing started?

Huh. Wow. You’ve been so present throughout all the plotting that I guess I can’t picture this without you at the beginning.

@marsreds​: What's something that surprised you while you were writing it?

How much it grew. Not as a plotline, but as a world. This was supposed to be an exploration of the progressive distortion of the Decepticon ideal disguised as a hotlock slowburn. I’d maybe throw in one or two OCs from “Such a big deal, though” to make the world seem more populated and believable. Then I was writing “Crash and burn” and I realized I couldn’t really talk about the Decepticons without the Decepticons, but I didn’t know enough about canon characters to fill the world with recognizable names, which forced me to create my own characters. They were supposed to be background characters, show up for a couple scenes, fulfill their roles and disappear forever, and instead they had personalities, alt-modes, and whole stories inside my mind that I can only hint at. It went from feeling like my little AU fanfic to my own alternate timeline, like maybe Brainstorm’s briefcase made it exist and it’s as “real” as everything that’s been published and has aired throughout the years.

Connected to that, I’ve also been surprised by the reaction to this bigger world. I’ve seen someone include Doctor and Thunderbird in their own AU. You declared Crystal Wing your favorite and get super protective of him. I’ve been asked what Thunderbird looks like, and everyone seems fascinated by him. It makes it all feel more and more like its own canon timeline that simply hasn’t been recognized by Hasbro, and that makes me happy.

@marsreds​: Something you would've done differently?

Not really? Nothing that can’t be edited, like the writing in “Alive”, or the bits I’ll eventually add to “Crash and burn” and “Nightlight”.

@marsreds​: How do you come up with names for things?

For characters, I mostly use rollercoasters. I went on Wikipedia one day, found a list of rollercoasters, and wrote down all the names that sounded like they could be used for OCs. Some have been given by others and one is a very unsubtle historical reference that made me feel embarrassed by how shameless it was (there’s a while until you see that name, though).

For places, I think of what happens in the fic in which they’re first named. Then I think of something associated to the events, or to the description of the planet, and then I pick a word that alludes to said events/description and which amuses me. Basically, every planet name is a joke/reference/unsubtle-nod-to-the-plot. All of them. Not very funny jokes, sure, but definitely things that made me feel very clever.

@marsreds​: Am i a good editor and do i actually contribute to the process or are you just humoring me?

Mars, if you didn’t contribute to the process I could just ignore you. When I disagree with your suggestions, I tell you so. When your suggestions make me cry inside but I agree they’re good, I follow them. When your suggestions add to the story, I gladly include them. You’re stuck as my editor until you get sick of me.

@marsreds​: Are hotlock gonna be invited to the thunderdice wedding?

Hot Rod and Deadlock won’t be invited to the thunderdice wedding.

But if there was any way for Hot Rod and Deadlock to be invited, they’d be invited by the groom. The bride doesn’t want to see Deadlock ever again.

@marsreds​: If you had to make a thesis statement for this au, what would it be?

Kindness. That might sound odd in what’s mostly been a slow burn set during a war, but kindness is what everything is built on here. Hot Rod cares about people, cares even when it might get him killed, because somebody has to. Back in Nyon, it was him and the other gutter mechs looking after each other. In “Crash and burn”, his kindness is what saved him, the fact that others remembered what he’d done for them. His kindness is what makes him stand out to Deadlock. It’s his kindness that makes him start doubting the cause and eventually steal the Matrix.

But it’s not only him. Deadlock doesn’t know how to be kind, but he can follow Hot Rod’s lead, follow his example until he can perform kindness on his own. Doctor is in Medicine for selfish reasons, but still goes and puts medgrade in Hot Rod’s hands when he looks like shit, and forces Thunderbird to take care of himself despite knowing he’s a bastard. Thunderbird cares only about himself and his best friend, but he doesn’t see any reason to be rude to people that might be dead the next day.

Kindness is not a weakness and there’s no mold for it. Kindness doesn’t mean never fighting, or never doing anything bad. It just means that, if there’s a good thing you can do, a good thing you know you can do, and there’s no reason not to do it, you should do it. It may never be repaid or it might save your life. You put some good in the world because somebody has to do it. And maybe in the real world kindness won’t be rewarded as it should, but this is fiction, and I’m allowed to write a world in which kindness is valued, even during something as terrible as a war, because it’s a promise, it’s hope, it’s something to hold on to and to remind you that things aren’t always bad.

The thesis is: Hot Rod was kind, and that was the right course of action.

@marsreds​: What would be this au's theme song?

Be More Kind - Frank Turner

@marsreds​: What's deadlock's favourite thing about hot rod? and hot rod's about deadlock?

Deadlock likes that Hot Rod lets him bite him.

Just kidding. Can I say kindness again? But yeah. The fact that Hot Rod cares for everyone. Deadlock came from the streets and was used to nobody giving a damn about him. He joined the Decepticons and got used to being valued for being a fighter. Enter Hot Rod, who values everyone no matter their rank, simply because they’re on his faction. The moment Hot Rod knows you’re on his side, you become one of his people. He’ll take care of you. To Deadlock, Hot Rod is a shelter.

As for Hot Rod? He likes how reliable Deadlock is. He likes that Deadlock seems to have clear loyalties and principles and he sticks to them. If Deadlock says he’s going to follow you until the end of the universe, you can be sure he will. If Deadlock decides to help you, he’ll be there no matter what. If Deadlock has decided that something is wrong, then you can be sure he won’t be looking for loopholes that allow him to do it anyway. He likes that Deadlock is there for him and will always be there for him as long as he deserves it. To Hot Rod, Deadlock is a pillar.

@marsreds​: Objectively, is deadlock considered hot in this universe? (i know hot rod's considered attractive but that's just his personality)

This one technically goes against my “How do I interact with my fiction” rules, because it refers to a detail I’m probably never showing/implying in the text.

What I’m saying is: you are free to ignore this answer if you don’t like it.

It amuses me to think Deadlock is average, physically speaking. People like his face when he’s not doing the murdercat expression, but he’s almost always doing the murdercat expression and has the social skills of a toothpick.

It also amuses me to think that the Autobots think he looks edgy. It’s the bad boy appeal. Hot Rod would find that hilarious.

@marsreds​: What do you like the most about their relationship that is present in this au but not in canon(ish) iterations of these characters?

I wrote three very salty paragraphs in reply to this and proceeded to delete them. Nobody needs that. To be brief, what I like about their relationship here is that their friendship means something to them. Even if this series ended with Hot Rod marrying Thunderbird and Deadlock marrying Doctor, you’d know for sure that there’s so much trust, companionship and love (and I don’t mean romantic love) between them that they’d be in each other’s lives as best friends until one of them died.

@squireofgeekdom: Any songs you associate with any of your OCs?

None yet, surprisingly?

Anon: What sort of key points do you keep in mind to keep track of where characters should be emotionally/in their arc when you're writing stories set at very different points in time, and not necessarily writing them in linear order? It's all very much coherent character/relationship arcs and I'm just very impressed - and the cohesiveness overall. Are there themes that you try to keep consistent across stories to build that?

Pre-Matrix stealing I have a clear idea of how things progress relating to key events, because it’s all very linear. The first relevant change in the relationship happens in “Triage” (still unwritten, sorry), so I know that any ideas for fics that happen before that will have to fit a certain pattern. The next big change is “Nightlight”, because it’s when the mutual pining starts. Before that, it’s only Hot Rod being invested in their friendship. Then it’s only mutual pining until “Declaration...”, and from then on things are mostly stable until “Home” (also unwritten, sorry again).

The hotlock dynamic progresses with their feelings. The only important thing I have to keep in mind is that they must be friends first and love interests second. If I can’t believe that these two genuinely like each other, then it’s time for a re-write. Cybertronians have long lives, which means their friendship must deepen as time passes, and so I can have them noticing or knowing more about each other the later in the timeline a fic is set.

Relating to OCs, there are key elements that will never ever change and which form the base of the interactions. For example, Doctor’s only goal in life is to survive; related to that, Doctor is unimpressed by, but extremely wary of, Thunderbird, despises Deadlock (I’m not talking funny rivalry, I’m talking a feeling that borders on disgust, of finding a person that so absolutely opposes the core of your being that you daydream of beating their face to a pulp and leaving them out for the wolves), and is fond of Hot Rod despite being certain he’ll get himself killed one day. Thunderbird likes to know things for the sake of knowing things and thinks life is one big cosmic joke and that taking it seriously is a mistake; because of that, he’s curious about Hot Rod and really wants to know what will become of him, is reluctanctly fascinated by Doctor, and the only person he loves besides himself is Crystal Wing. Crystal Wing is so slow that he knows he has to use his time wisely, so he’s always in a good mood (it takes too long to overcome a negative emotion), likes everyone immediately (it’s faster to dislike someone than learn to like them), and always says exactly what he means without adornments or metaphors.

As for plotting, I keep notes of key events and the rest is fluid. I know what’s going to happen in “Home”, so I’m free to foreshadow it when I get the chance. I know what happened in “Triage”, so I can write callbacks if I feel they fit the story.

About themes... There are a lot of things this AU is about, but off the top of my head I can mention:

Kindness

Making one (1) person the key to your emotional development is fucked up

Who we are and who we become can’t be traced back to one moment. We’re all the result of thousands of interactions and events that pile up and which we choose to see in a certain way to justify the person we are or want to be

Friendship!

Everything I write must be in accordance to these ideas. Themes and cohesiveness go before everything else, even my own ego and need for approval. Surprising my audience is not as important as feeling I respected the characters and the story.

@choomchoom: Is Hot Rod’s history as an insurgency leader in Nyon commonly known amongst the Decepticons? If not, how did Deadlock find out?

Yes and no. This might count as a spoiler? Stop reading here if you don’t want to know absolutely anything about fics that I’ll write someday.

When Hot Rod arrived, his past was used as propaganda. “Look at the mech we brought in. Someone willing to do whatever it takes in the fight against the Autobots.” Anyone who was around high command or near the area when Hot Rod joined the Decepticons knows his past. After that, it was part of the information in the starter pack. After a while, it wasn’t relevant anymore, and so newer recruits don’t know about his past and might have only heard about this crazy mech that drags injured soldiers out of the battlefield.

@choomchoom: Also if no one has asked about music yet I would love some song recs to cry and swoon to the next time you post an update.

I have a playlist that’s 95% somewhat serious and/or shippy songs (the remaining 5% is “Despacito” and I have no regrets).

Highlights from it include:

The already linked “Be More Kind”, which is this AU’s thesis

The hotlock theme is Los Tres’ “Amor Violento” (loose translation of relevant lyrics: “I’ll spend my whole life in buying yours [...] Love will have to wait for a good while to rest from you and I [...] Because a violent love blinded us / A violent love fulminated us”)

For the post-Matrix stealing to the point at which the war ends, the song is Silversun Pickups’ “Growing Old Is Getting Old”. It also fits for that point at which you realize that your faction has strayed from its original vision

For the Decepticons in the beginning, Los Prisioneros’ “El Baile De Los Que Sobran” (”Join the dance of the left overs / Nobody’s going to miss us / Nobody truly wanted to help us / When we were small we were told / ‘Make studying your game’ / Men are brothers and must work together [...] And it wasn’t so true / Because in the end those games were for others / That ended up with laurels and a future / And left my friends kicking rocks”)

A bit of a post-Nyon mood: Coldplay’s “42″