#kinda begs the question how many bots there were on cybertron to begin with

[ijusthavesomanyblorbos]

can we take a moment to talk about the straight up hilarity of tf prime's setting

i gotta be honest i have no idea what the deal is with the vehicons. i dunno if they're canonically sentient or not but for all intents and purposes their only real role is cannon fodder, so they're basically like... megatron's little roombas. except instead of vacuuming they do crimes.

but ASIDE from that. guys. prime has such a small ass cast. and like they hype everything up so much and the stakes are supposedly so high. BUT THIS WAR IS LITERALLY JUST LIKE 10 GUYS. AT LEAST G1 HAD LIKE PLATOONS. BUT PRIME?? THERE'S NO ONE!! THEY'RE FIGHTING OVER A WHOLE PLANET WHEN THEY LITERALLY COULDN'T MAKE UP A SINGLE AMERICAN FOOTBALL TEAM!!!!!!!! I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS!!

[paperstarwriters]

My Spark For You.

This is a kinda prequel to Multiverse Martyr on Ao3 (link provided) Can be looked at as Ratchet/Optimus or Ratchet & Optimus (for those who don’t know “/” is romantic “&” is platonic)

The fic is based off of two ideas: one, Every time Optimus dies he resets (main plot of Multiverse Martyr) and two, Ratchet starves himself of energon. If anyone has the link to the post discussing those details feel free to stick it down in a reblog or something, I’m too lazy to do it right now. 

Update: found the link here

Ratchet was always there for him. It was a universal constant. Every time he died, every time he started again, Ratchet would be there for him. Ratchet would be there to support him. To help. To heal. That wasn't his only job of course, Ratchet couldn't spend every waking moment worrying about him. Ratchet had his own problems he would have to deal with, and he would never wish to burden his old friend with something so heavy that he may not even remember. Something that could be forgotten if he died. If his spark extinguished again, if Megatron or some other Decepticon, killed him again, he could start all over. Go back to the beginning and try again. Go back to the beginning and find Ratchet again. Like a metal drawn to a magnet the injured always went to Ratchet. It wasn't surprising then that Ratchet knew he was injured.

"Is everything alright Optimus?"

He asked him every timeline. Every timeline he would reply in honest.

"No."

Lying to ratchet was no easy feat at first, but after so many deaths, Optimus forced himself to learn. Yet that simple question that he asked at the beginning of the war, he could never bring himself to lie. He always hoped that maybe once, once Ratchet would look at him and say,

"I'm here for you Optimus."

He stared at him for a second trying to confirm that he heard ratchet say the exact words from his processer. It wasn't the usual "Whatever it is, I know you can do it," or "Do you need some time alone?" that was the last thing he needed-- more reason to try and haul all these problems by himself.

"Thank you old friend. Thank you... I needed that."

He flashed him a grin, a rarity hidden under his usual grumpy nature, yet something he did every time. Something, Optimus would like to argue, that was for him alone. So was it foolish to want to protect that smile? Was it foolish to do anything to protect those precious to you?

No. He liked to believe that even Megatron thought that still, just as the three of them did long ago.

If it was an attack. Some great bomb or Megatron threatening to stab his sword into Ratchet's spark, then maybe it would be easier. Optimus could rush in and save him. He could plan some sort of escape, or worst comes to worse sacrifice himself and start all over again. What made that so difficult, was that it was his fault it had happened. Rushing into danger all the time even if they didn't have the energon needed. Staying so focused on Megatron and protecting humans that he didn't even have the time to notice Ratchet until it was far too late.

He skipped out on his energon meals. While the rest of the team kept themselves steadily full, and took extra when they got injured, Ratchet starved himself in order to let them keep fighting. What hurt the most was that his reasoning made sense. If not for Optimus' place as leader and constantly jumping into battle, he would most eagerly do the same. Starve himself for the others-- for Ratchet to remain healthy and well. He loathed how he would do that, and he loathed that he HAD done that. Sacrifice himself for others and leaving them with this pain that he felt.

He wondered how many times Ratchet wept after he died. How many times Ratchet ran into the face of danger to attempt to save him. How many times did Ratchet end up worse for wear after he died? Starving himself of energon to try and feed some back into his dead frame.

Only now Optimus held his dead frame.

It hurt. As a mech who died so many times trying to save others, as a mech who had their frame rearranged upon taking up the accursed matrix, this hurt the most. Watching others die, and being helpless to do anything. Except he wasn't helpless, was he?

The rest of the Autobots mourned with him heads lowered as he continued to cradle Ratchet's frame in his arms. They found him in the main base, during a time where they had a lack of energon. They thought they would be able to last at least a while longer. They didn’t know about Ratchet. Not until it was too late.

But nothing was ever too late for Optimus. The team mourned. They wouldn't show it now, but Optimus knew they were going to cry their optics out later. In private. Just as he did. They buried their sorrows, following him and his example, not knowing how much he hated to do it. How deep would they bury their sorrow after if he died? They would undoubtedly suffer, just as he would for the others. Yet he couldn’t help it. He was greedy. Selfish. Unbefitting as a leader.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

It took the Autobots a moment to realize that Optimus wasn't talking to Ratchet, just the amount of time it took Optimus to open his chest plating and rip out his spark. It was the first time he took his own life, by his own hand at least, and it was shoddily done. He was alive for much more longer than he intended. Long enough to see them all scream and cry and beg for him to come back. Beg someone to go fix him, only who could they ask? Their medic was dead. Cliffjumper tried to shake him, to place his spark back into his chest, but even with the fading strength, Optimus wouldn't dare let him even try. He crushed his spark in his own servo, knowing he was crushing the others' as well.

They wouldn't remember though. They wouldn’t remember, and as long as they didn’t know, he was fine to carry their sorrows on his own.

Optimus awoke on the battlefield on Cybertron. Pain etched itself into every inch of his newly rearranged frame, but this time, he didn't scream. He didn’t scream like he did all those runs beforehand. He was far too tired. He blocked every con blow they tried to hit him with, memorizing their movements from the many times he's done this before. Duck here, slice there, fire over there and ignore Megatron's irritating yelling, muttering every line he yelled in perfect harmony with him. The battle couldn't have ended sooner, but it was a practiced dance that assured the safety of the other Autobots, including Ratchet. As soon as he left the battle, he revved up his engines and traveled to get to Ratchet. It took him a few days, not one of his faster runs, but not the longest either.

Ratchet was cornered by a bunch of cons, a set, Optimus effortlessly took care of, a momentary redemption for not saving Ratchet before. It hurt to see that stare though. The stare of confusion and slight fear as Ratchet stared at a bot he didn’t know, or at least didn't recognize, but a a mere pinprick to the sight he died to.

"Ah, thank you…"

"It is good to see you again my old friend, I apologize for not coming sooner." He never knew what linked that line back to him, he never knew how Ratchet could connect it to his old name, but every time, without fail, he did.

"Orion…?"

And every time, he smiled.