#spreadwardiard

[spreadwardiard]

Megatron Does NOT Drunk Call His Ex

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Megatron/Orion Pax, Megatron/Optimus Prime

Summary: Megatron laments his break up while watching Orion Pax's coronation as Prime on the holoscreen.

Notes: I wanted to try my hand at the whole 'drunk calling your ex' trope, and had some fun with it. Takes place in that time between the disasterous senate meeting and optimus being formally named prime by the government. This is TFP/ Aligned

Megatron scowled as he smashed his digits roughly against the keypad to his door.  The numerals on the far left section of the pad were stuck again, not wanting to register his touch. He swiftly punched the mechanism in annoyance, and then tried again.  Percussive maintenance did its job and the pin finally registered.  

He tried not to think about how Orion had complained about the lock for at least a vorn before… Megatron grumbled at himself to stop that thought. Thinking about Orion Pax brought nothing but pain, but even Megatron knew that nothing would stop the onslaught of thoughts, memories and feelings that were certain to come for him in the night. 

It was a battle he had lost many times before, ever since their separation. It was easier to call it that, rather than what it really was: a break up. One he hadn’t actually even wanted to happen. One that was his fault- 

Megatron took in a deep vent, tried to reorient his thoughts to anything but Orion Pax. How the slag was he supposed to do that when he fragger’s coronation as Prime was scheduled to air any klik now? He hadn’t even seen the mech in what felt like ages… not since the argument. 

Frag… He’d already lost the battle, and it had hardly even begun. Megatron’s scowl deepened as he admitted defeat, and against his better judgement, grabbed a bottle of his finest high grade. He grimaced as he actually looked at the bottle in his servo, decorated in golden filigree and ornately etched glyphs. It was the bottle Orion had given him in preparation for their Rites. The thought stung like acid rain. 

He snorted out a forced laugh. The idea of he and Orion binding their sparks seemed laughably distant now. How fitting that he consume the high grade now, for Orion’s big hurrah. He didn’t even grab a cube to pour it in. He wouldn’t need one, he knew himself. The bottle would be empty before the night was over. 

Megatron popped the lid and brought the bottle to his derma, prepared for a harsh, but effective, high grade to assault his glossa. He hated that it was delicious, that Orion had probably paid more for this bottle than Megatron spent on fuels for half a vorn. He hated that it was supposed to be special… shared between them… that he had ruined it. 

At least his revolution was still going strong. The betrayal of Orion Pax may have hurt Megatron personally, but it ultimately strengthened the resolve of his followers. It was a bitter victory, he thought as he slunk back into his sofa, limp as an old thermal sheet. 

If he hadn’t lost his temper and let his paranoia get the better of him, he’d be at that coronation with Orion, not having to watch it on the holoscreen. He took another drink, as large as his intake would allow, before he turned on the screen, and found the correct broadcast. 

The newsmech drawled on about the excitement happening in Trion Square. Thousands of mechs had arrived to meet the newly designated Prime. Megatron snorted again as the crowd cheered in excitement.  They were imagining a glorious leader to light their darkest hour, but all Megatron could envision was the dorky archivist that used to recharge in his arms and who couldn’t remember to fuel himself. 

The bottle was at his derma before the grief that followed the previous thought could hit him. It settled hot in his tanks, and he forced a smile at the knowledge that liquid relief would be imminent. Once the warmth set in, the dulling of his processor would soon follow, and that aching emptiness wouldn’t be so painful. 

He missed Orion Pax and now that nearly a dozen stellar cycles had passed, he would finally get to see him again. On the holoscreen… But that was better than nothing, right? 

The newsmech continued their useless prattle, and Megatron watched lazily as the cameras panned the crowd, every so often freezing on the ornately draped balcony that he assumed Orion would appear from. Even from his out of date holoscreen, he could tell how exquisite the embroidery on the drapery was. It must have taken vorns to do by servo. It looked distastefully splendent next to the polished golden accents that Iacon was known for. 

How many drinks had he had already? His processor was starting to feel a bit foggy. He couldn’t remember. He took another. It didn’t matter anyway. It wouldn’t change what he’d done. It wouldn’t bring back what he’d carelessly thrown away in a foolish fit of paranoia. 

Megatron was ruthless with his words that cycle. He tore into Orion like a vicious beast. Orion visibly crumbled at his accusations of betrayal, and when he accused him of using their relationship as a means to gain power, Orion looked as if Megatron had stabbed him through his spark chamber. He would never forget the pain that had flashed through Orion’s field… 

He was such a slagging fool… It wasn’t until after Orion went off the grid to seek out the Matrix that Megatron put it all together. Orion had never betrayed him at all. The entire situation was carefully orchestrated by the Council to drive a wedge between them, and it had succeeded in that aim. Now, Orion was their puppet, without Megatron there to fend them off and it was all his fault. 

Megatron tore his optics from the holoscreen and looked at the bottle in his servos. It felt too light, and it took him a moment to register that he’d already drank nearly half of it. Orion hadn’t even appeared yet… It wasn’t his fault this stuff was so slagging good. Besides… this was a ‘drink to forget’ sort of night, and he sure as slag hadn’t forgotten scrap yet. Megatron took another drink.

It was harder to focus on the holoscreen. The newsmech was now apologizing for delays. Megatron couldn’t stop a laugh at that. Typical Orion Pax; late for literally everything. He’d have been late to his own forging if that were possible. 

Slag… he felt heavy as a load of cement… What the frag was in this? He hauled the bottle up to his helm, and shuttered his optics, before squinting at the glyphs. He couldn’t focus on them, they just appeared as far off, fuzzy and jumbled nonsense. There was about a third of the bottle left…. Maybe he’d had enough?

He should apologize. Megatron knew that. He’d thought about it time and time again, usually when he was like this and had nothing else to distract him from his woes, but his pride refused to allow that. He never had been good at admitting when he was wrong, and was even worse when it came to apologizing for it. 

What would he even say? Where even was he to start? ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t feel sincere enough, and anything beyond that was likely to just be excuses for his behavior.  He deserved this… what he’d said was inexcusable. 

Megatron ex-vented heavily. His frame felt like dead weight, and the longer he allowed it to melt into his sofa, the more annoying the constant pinging in his hip strut was. How long had it been alerting him of his discomfort now? He wasn’t paying attention. The ache in his spark was worse anyway. He took another drink. 

It wasn’t fair. He wished he could share the enthusiasm shown by the crowd on the holoscreen, but how could that even be possible? With Orion now under the watchful optics of the Primacy, he was as good as lost. The Prime may have had power of his own, but they always followed the will of the Council. Orion would be no different. The Council had too much sway, too much power, for one mech to defy them alone.

The pinging of discomfort in his hip was becoming too much to ignore. He shifted his mass to the side just enough to allow gravity to crash his upper frame into the sofa cushions. The high grade sloshed dangerously in its bottle, but miraculously did not spill from his sudden readjustment, even as he pulled his legs up with him and shifted for relief. 

The holoscreen was mostly forgotten. Instead, he pulled up his HUD and braced for the inevitable sting as he selected an image from his gallery, of Orion Pax lounging in berth. He had a datapad in his servo, and a soft, gentle smile on his face as he read aloud some poetry from the collection he’d been browsing. The poem had been romantic, though Megatron couldn’t remember it now. Orion had only read it to him once, and afterwards they’d ended up indulging in each other’s frames. 

Megatron remembered the interfacing, not the poem, and it stung more than he would admit even to himself. He wished he would have saved a memory file so he could hear Orion recite it over and over again. He wished he could hear him recite anything right now. He hadn’t heard his voice since- 

He cut himself off by forcibly closing the image, which, unfortunately, landed him right at Orion’s commlink. He stared at it for several kliks, toyed with the idea of calling before shooting that idea down with a slovenly scoff. No, the time for that had long passed, and Orion would be too busy to answer anyway, if he even wanted to. He’d convinced himself long ago that Orion had likely already blocked him from contacting him anyway. 

He closed out of his HUD and shuttered his optics. His frame was running hot from the high grade, and his fans finally kicked in to dispel the excess heat. Slag… he must look as pitiful as he felt. The great and mighty Megatron, The Champion of the Pits, brought to his knees over a slagging break-up. He was patheti-

His self degradation was cut off by a loud and sudden ping. It was a comm request, marked urgent. It was from Orion. It flashed at him across his HUD in bold, red glyphs, but that was impossible. There was no way it was real… His mind was playing tricks on him again. 

His optics darted to the holoscreen. Orion was supposed to have made his debut some time ago, but even with his optical inputs distorted from the drink, he could plainly see that Orion Pax was not where he was supposed to be. The ornately decorated balcony was still empty, and several important looking mechs shuffled around in distress at Orion’s truancy.

Megatron’s intake went dry, and that aching emptiness in his chassis returned full force as he, against his better judgement, accepted the incoming request. He tried to speak, but found his vocalizer needed rebooting. 

“Megatron?... Please, don’t hang up…” It was him… He sounded different than Megatron remembered. The reverberation of his voice was slightly off, like his vocalizer was now housed in a larger frame, but the voice was unmistakably Orion. 

Megatron wanted to respond, but his rebooting vocalizer prevented him from uttering more than a distorted and shaky “Hmmm?” 

“Thank Primus, you accepted my call. I was worried you wouldn’t wish to speak with me. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner. There was so much happening, I hardly had a moment to myself befor-” It almost didn’t feel real. He’d so deeply convinced himself that he and Orion were too damaged for him to ever reach out. He had been certain that Orion had blocked him from contact. 

“...and after that I was taken to this strange tunnel system where they placed me in some purification pool…” Orion was rambling, but it didn’t matter. It just felt good to hear his voice again. It slid into Megatron’s processor like the richest of energon, and he was starving. 

“... -fter that I was chased by a small hoard of hibernating scraplets. I genuinely thought that I was going to offline down there…” This whole thing felt far too good to be true. Orion didn’t sound upset with him at all. There was anxiety in his tone, and judging by the speed of which he was speaking, he had a lot to say that he wanted, or needed to say quickly, but there was no anger or resentment, like Megatron expected.

“...-atrix of Leadership…” Slag… he wasn’t actually paying attention to what Orion had been saying this whole time, the high grade had only allowed him to process the smooth timbre of his voice. He tried to think back over what he’d heard, something about a pool of scraplets in a tunnel? . Slag… he still wasn’t paying attenti-

“Megatron… are you listening to me?” He flinched at the question. He was really regretting drinking as much as he had. If he’d have known Orion was going to comm him, he wouldn’t have had nearly as much. Megatron wet his derma before replying. 

“I’m listening.” He sounded weak, and he knew it. He hoped Orion didn’t catch the waver in his tone, his tell that he wasn’t being entirely truthful. 

Orion audibly sighed, but whether it was in annoyance or relief, Megatron couldn’t tell. 

“I know, I’m rambling, I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that the Matrix makes me feel things far more intensely than I did before. All it lets me think about is you, and our last meeting… how I fragged everything up that cycle… How much I miss you. I’m sor-” 

It took him several kliks to actually process what Orion was saying. Did he say: missed? He felt his spark practically jump in its chamber. Was that actually what he’d heard? That couldn’t be right… not after the cruel things he’d said. 

“You miss me?” Orion went silent, and Megatron realized that he’d cut him off, mid-sentence, likely in the middle of something important. Something that he, again, wasn’t listening to. He grimaced at his stupid mistake.

“Yes, I did say that.” Megatron tried to sit up, but found he only had the strength to roll onto his back. His frame was too heavy for him to hoist up. He draped his arm over his optics instead, to quell the spinning as his processor tried to adjust to his movement. He definitely had too much. The high grade was flooding his frame now.  It was a struggle just to keep his optics open. 

“Will you say it again?” He cursed himself for how desperate his request must sound. Orion was silent for several kliks, but the time felt like eons as Megatron waited.

“Have you been drinking?” 

Megatron groaned at the question, and that seemed to suffice as an answer for Orion. 

“I miss you, Megatronus.” He let out an ex-vent that he wasn’t aware he was even holding in. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost after all? Maybe he hadn’t completely destroyed the bond he held so dear to his spark. 

“I miss you too…” Megatron’s words slurred together and came out a jumbled mess. He barely got them out. The bottle he forgot he was holding fell from his servos, and he flinched at the sound of it crashing into the floor, the remainder of its content’s splattering across the tiles. 

“Primus… you are absolutely slagged…” Orion laughed softly, and it sounded like bells to his audials. The soothing sound reminded him of cycles long past, when they were happy together. 

“I miss you, Orion.” That wasn’t what he’d meant to say… He meant to ask Orion what the slag was in that fancy high grade to make him act like this. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t fighting a system shutdown with all of his might. 

“Mega…” Orion’s voice wavered, and the pet name burrowed into his audials. Megatron wondered if he was going to cut the link. He wouldn’t blame him for doing so. He’d fumbled this opportunity in a grand fashion. “Can I come see you? Please?”

 Megatron almost couldn’t process that request. It was so far off from what he was expecting Orion to say that the glyphs simply didn’t make sense for several kliks. 

“Where are you?” Wasn’t Orion supposed to be doing that important thing right now? In Iacon? Halfway across the planet from him? Megatron turned his helm just enough to see the holoscreen. The balcony was still empty. The crowd was still in place. 

“I’m in Kaon… I-I fled my coronation and I… I didn’t know who else to run t-” 

“Please…” He didn’t even attempt to hide the desperation in his tone, he was too tired at this point. His frame may have been in the process of powering down, but his spark thrummed in a mixture of disbelief, longing and joy. 

“Give me just a few kliks… I won’t be long.”  Orion laughed again, clearly with relief and again Megatron was soothed by the sound more than he would care to ever admit. “Thank you, Mega. I was afraid you would turn me away. I was afraid we were…. Over.” 

“I don’t want us to be.” Megatron mumbled and vented softly. His processing subroutines were shutting down faster than he could reboot them. Orion said something after that, but Megatron could no longer process his vocals into anything that made sense. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. The blackout took him as Orion continued to croon softly to him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Megatron came online slowly in the morning. His helm was aching, but not as badly as he expected. He sank into his berth comfortably, and that helped to ease the discomfort his frame should have been feeling. After rolling onto his side, he slowly shuttered his optics, half expecting to be struck with pain, but pleasantly surprised that he was granted a painless view of his berth-side table. 

There was a nearly empty energon cube sitting precariously close to the edge of the table, with a straw sticking out of if. He couldn’t remember getting a cube before he shutdown… Come to think of it… he didn’t remember much of anything that happened after he fell sideways onto the sofa last cycle. 

He slowly sat up, while scratching the back of his helm as he tried to remember how the slag he’d gotten into his berth to begin with. He made a point of not recharging here. It was too big without Orion beside him.  

Orion! 

Orion had commed him last night! The ache in his processor surged as the memory of their conversation struck him all once. Orion called him and he bungled the entire conversation, but Orion had asked to see him.

Against his better judgement, Megatron swung his legs out of berth.  His left pede hitting the rim of something, and sending it careening against the berth-side table: a trash bin, likely set there in case he purged during the night. As he stood, the scent of fuel preparation struck his olfactory sensors. It smelled like fried mineral cakes and thickened energon syrup, the scent of the warmed syrup almost sickeningly sweet. His intake watered, and his tanks clenched in discomfort at their emptiness. 

There was no way… that had to have been a dream, a recharge flux from the high grade and the torture of watching Orion’s coronation.  A hallucination created to torment him for his mistakes.. Right?? There was no way Orion had really come and put him to berth, with a drink… right? 

He lurched towards the door, pausing only long enough for it to register him and open before stumbling out into his living quarters. He could hear the fuels sizzling in his prep station. Slung over the back of the sofa was a thermal sheet, folded, with a pillow resting on top.  

 It must be Soundwave… he must have checked in on the security feeds and saw him passed out on the sofa, and had come to clean up the mess. That had to be it… Even so, it he found more difficult to draw in a vent the closer he came to the dividing wall separating his living space from his fuel preparation area. 

“Megatron? Are you online?” 

Megatron paused in his steps as the unmistakable voice filled his audials. His intake went dry the moment he tried to speak, and he found himself at a loss for words. It wasn’t all a dream. Orion had called him.  He had wanted to see him. He was here… Right there, on the other side of the wall. 

He rounded the corner, needing to see it to truly believe it. Orion stood with his back towards him, obviously engrossed in the meal he was preparing. His frame was new…. He no longer wore a civilian model. He was taller, with a much sturdier chassis than before, and his arms thick with armor and weaponry. It was clearly the make of a warframe, but his colors were the same, familiar red and blue.

He finally felt like he could vent again, and when he did so, Orion turned his helm with a hopeful grin on his face. Their optics met, and Megatron had to rest his weight upon the wall to keep upright. He was beautiful. 

“Orion…” It was all he could say as a million thoughts and words tried to bombard him at once. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to apologize for, so many questions he wanted to ask. 

Orion shut off the flame on the unit, and slid something onto a plate before turning around fully. 

“I know there are many things we need to discuss. But I hope that it can wait until after breakfast. I made your favorite.” Orion held up one of the plates, stacked with mineral cakes, to emphasize his point, and as if on queue, Megatron’s systems loudly pinged a low fuel warning.

Orion laughed. “I guess I still have perfect timing. Sit down, I’ll bring it to you.” 

It was like they hadn’t fought at all… Megatron sat at the table, forcing a reboot to his vocalizer. Orion sat a hefty plate of mineral cakes in front of him, followed by utensils and the thickened syrup, ready to be poured. 

Orion sat down across from him, and reached across the table, where Megatron eagerly met him with his own servo, curling their digits together, as they used to do before meals in the past. His palm was warm, and it radiated down his frame, directly to his spark. Megatron looked up to see Orion smiling at him, in what appeared to be relief. 

Megatron returned the smile, before withdrawing his servo, his nerves now eased. Things were going to be okay, better than okay, if the cakes were anything to judge it by. Orion’s field tentatively reached out to his own, and he replied with his own. It was a quiet reunion, but it let him know that their love still stood strong, and that knowledge allowed him to fully enjoy his refueling. 

Afterwards, they would work out the rest, together.

[viovayo]

Hey idk if you remember me but we were friends a few years ago. I had a lot of blogs I'm not sure which ones we were friends on. Maybe it was spreadward? I lost access to a lot of my old blogs over the years. I just wanted to say hi and that I never forgot you, shit just got really bad.

OMG yes hello! Man it really has been a long time, but I do remember you yeah :D

Shit does have a way of getting bad but I'm so glad to see you're still around and kicking, I hope that means things are looking up for you now ;v; and if not then I hope they will soon.

[skeletonsgeorg]

In the beginning, it seemed so simple. The Senate had informed him immediately upon his awakening exactly who and what his enemy was, and he had not questioned them. Why would he have? The evidence was plain all around him. He arose as Optimus Prime, and immediately set out to war against Megatron; Megatronus, in those days, and his Descepticons. Orion Pax had been weak in those early days, his spark still under shock of taking the Matrix of Leadership, capable of little other than tracking Megatron on the battlefield, the spark always settling in whichever nook of his spark chamber was closest to Megatron.  Another harsh stab of fury filled his processors. The Matrix… Optimus could feel Orion's hatred and fear of it. He couldn't understand it. The Matrix of Leadership was a gift to be bestowed only on those worthy of a Prime. Orion Pax should be grateful towards the Matrix. For millennia… he didn't understand. 

Please go read "4 Million Years" by @spreadwardiard if you like angst <3

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Rot: Patient Zero

An infection is spreading across all of Cybertron and not a spark knows what is going on. Ratchet has been called upon to inspect patient zero to try and find the cause of all this. It ends as well as one might expect.

This is a little gift for my dear friend @spreadwardiard and their fantastic fic The Rot.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Where is the patient?” The datapad in Ratchet’s servo cracked as he clutched it a little too tightly. He cursed softly and strode forward with greater speed, First Aid scurrying alongside him.

“We have found several infected patients, but the one we are going to is in the far room, the most secure part of the facility.” First Aid supplied with a hint of worry in his voice. Ratchet hummed and looked over the datapad again. 

Hundreds of reports of a strange virus infecting the lower levels had begun to spread like a wildfire. Every few kliks there was another ping and yet another designation added to the growing list of those infected with the virus. This was an outbreak, and it was growing worse at rapid speed. Ratchet had already given the order to close off the upper regions of Iacon, but the middle and lower levels were being overtaken by whatever this was.

They needed to understand it and find a cure fast. There had been no casualties yet, but Ratchet had seen the Rust Plague. He knew how quickly something so simple as a mere respiratory malfunction could turn deadly. 

“We believe this is patient zero, correct?” Ratchet inquired as he passed by several holding cells where infected individuals were pacing mindlessly. Looking over them briefly, they seemed… lost. Their optics were hazy and their movements disjointed. Most were mumbling about nonsense, but there was a common theme that left a worrying fear nagging at the back of Ratchet’s mind.

“Hungry… need… energon.” Ratchet grimaced slightly as he passed by a particularly delirious patient. The mech was leaking oral fluids, seemingly without any care whatsoever. His frame seemed gaunt, almost emaciated. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Yes, the patient we are going to meet is indeed the one we believe to be the original carrier of the virus. He was at a bar at the time and the infection has spread from that location since. And while we do have enforcers down there trying to keep things in order-” First Aid fidgeted and stepped back hastily as one patient flew against the bars separating him from the hall. The patient’s face was the embodiment of madness, and his expression was lopsided, almost as though he’d had a spark attack and was still recovering.

“What do we know so far? What are the symptoms?” The mech gurgled worryingly as Ratchet grabbed First Aid by the arm and pushed on. First Aid stumbled for a moment before replying. Ratchet took care to not look at any of the patients in the optic directly. He hated keeping patients behind bars, but they were too dangerous to be interacted with. 

“Severe hunger, madness, disorientation, mobility loss, and in the most severe cases, plating loss. It seems to be a degenerative virus that weakens the frame over time.” Ratchet nodded and passed First Aid the datapad as they approached a door. It was thick, black proof based on the structure of it. A wise place to keep patient zero.

“Give me a hazmat suit. I am not going in there just to catch whatever this is.” First Aid was quick to follow the given order and collected a suit from the nearby lockers. Within a klik, his apprentice was back by his side with the materials. Ratchet always hated the suites, but they were useful despite their appearance.

Neon green boots and leg coverings slid on first, kept in place by straps that were fitted over his shoulders. They dug into his seams, but with the covers coming up to his mid waist, there would be no risk of fluid getting near his exposed cabling or plating. Next came the gown with First Aid had to get a stool to help Ratchet get into. The thing was also disgustingly bright green and it fell over his helm without issue. Getting his arms into the sleeves was a nightmare with his arm guards, but he managed. 

Gloves were strapped onto his wrists with tight bindings and the cuffs of his sleeves were tucked into the gloves just to be safe. As if he didn’t look ridiculous enough, the helm piece of the whole suit was quickly put into place. It was a relatively simple design. A draping helm cover fell down from his helm to his shoulders, held in place by straps under his chin. Then to top it all off, a cone shaped, almost beak like visor was slipped into place and locked on. The thing was almost entirely air tight, but there was plenty of room around his intake and optics so that he could run his air filtration systems without issue.

He looked like a hot mess, but he was ready. The bright purple mark of the medic stood proudly on his chest as he gestured for First Aid to step away and made his way through the door into patient zero’s containment chamber. 

“You are… Springstep, correct?” Ratchet called out, his voice coming out somewhat staticy through the communicator built into his mask. The mech in front of him had his arms bound behind his back, a safety measure to ensure he didn’t hurt himself or any staff. If they were doing things properly or if they had more time, the mech would have been given better accommodations.

As it was, patient zero was simply too dangerous to be handled properly.

“Yes? You are… a doctor?” The mech questioned, his optics hazy and uncertain as he looked Ratchet up and down. Ratchet made a noise of affirmation and edged closer to examine the mech. 

“I am. My designation is Ratchet.” Cautiously Ratchet shuffled forward until he was about a foot away from the mech. Springstep looked terrible just from a quick physical glance over. His complexion was awful, his facial protoform sunken in enough that it seemed as though it was stretched too thin. His frame was boney, his hips jutting out awkwardly almost as if he hadn’t had a decent fueling in stellar cycles. 

According to his files, he had been perfectly healthy up until about three cycles ago. Such rapid loss of mass was highly concerning. Perhaps it was a parasite? That would account for the lack of nutrients in the patient. However, it did not rationalize why the virus was spreading so rapidly. 

“Tell me how you are feeling and when your symptoms began to show themselves.” Ratchet ordered as he dutifully began running scans from a safe distance. Springstep was startlingly low on fuel. His systems were resorting to consumption of excess mass in order to keep functioning. There was no way a mech who was perfectly healthy mere cycles prior should have been suffering from third degree energon deficiency. 

“Rotted… broken… my insides burn… my processor… all foggy… started down at the docks.” Springstep attempted to speak, but his glyphs were broken and disjointed. Ratchet grimaced beneath his mask. This mech wasn’t going to make it. Such severe speech impediments combined with his frame’s state did not speak positively of his chances of survival. 

“Where by the docks did you encounter this virus? Do you know?” Ratchet continued his line of questioning even as he began sending pings back to the other medics outside. 

[[Lock down the lower levels entirely. Priority individuals and essential workers are to be moved to the upper levels and secured immediately. Begin administration of hazmat suit instruction to all medical personnel. Not a spark is to be seen without a suit from this point onward.]]

“Don’t… know…” Springstep trailed off and Ratchet frowned. This was just like the Rust Plague, and yet so much worse all at the same time. The virus was spreading just as fast, but the effects were worse, or rather more intense. The rust killed a mech slowly through corroding their insides. Whatever this was worked at an  accelerated rate and with incredible efficiency. It hadn’t even been three cycles and already patient zero was going to drop dead.

A lockdown was the bare minimum.

“Thank you Springstep. I will have one of my associates administer a sedative to help ease the pain-” Ratchet trailed off as Springstep lurched forward, his frame heaving as he purged green goo onto the ground. Springstep’s optics widened and cycled rapidly as he struggled. Ratchet knew that look, it was a sign of madness, the swift clarity before death that faded away into insanity. 

He didn’t hesitate to turn around and run.

Time seemed to slow as he crashed into the door, hurriedly trying to punch in the code to exit as Springstep growled like a wild animal and snapped his restraints. Energon rushed from the mech’s wounds, but he was rapid as he skidded forward, no intelligence remaining in his gaze.

“STAY BACK!” Ratchet lifted an arm just in time for Springstep to collide with him. The mech’s jaw clamped down tight on his arm, denta digging deep and tearing through protective plastic sheeting. Ratchet winced as pinpricks of pain shot up his arm from where Springstep’s denta had dug into him. But he did not waste another moment in kicking Springstep to the ground and rushing through the door as it opened.

He couldn’t use his servos to hurt a patient, but no one said anything about his pedes. 

“Sir! Are you alright!?” First Aid hurried forward, a welder in his servo. He was quick to begin welding the minor cut closed, and Ratchet allowed it. Once his apprentice was done, Ratchet sighed and pulled off his mask.

“I will be fine, but this is far worse than I thought. My orders still stand, but I want every sparkling in upper Iacon put in stasis for the time being. They won’t last more than thirty kliks under this virus.” First Aid nodded and began taking notes, but Ratchet did not wait around. His frame suddenly ached with exhaustion which he chalked up to having to beat a patient into the ground on short notice. It had been a long cycle of handling the situation. He needed rest. There wasn’t much he could do until his orders were implemented anyway.

[[This is a direct order from the CMO of Cybertron. The situation has been deemed a medical emergency for all of Cybertron. From now until the situation is dealt with, medical orders take precedence over all others. Comply or be removed from major cities effective immediately.]] 

He groaned as his message was sent out to every mech of importance in Iacon. His helm pounded and he found he didn’t have the will to make the long march back to his hab. He had a work office nearby. He would stop by there and take a nap as he’d done plenty of times before.

“By the Allspark, this is bad.” He murmured as he arrived at his office and stepped inside. He hadn’t even bothered to remove the suit. His limbs felt like lead and his helm pounded so much that he could hardly see straight. This wasn’t good. 

The bite on his arm burned and his very frame felt as though it were struggling to keep functioning. He hardly had enough time to close the door behind him before he fell to the ground, spark deep exhaustion pulling at him along with bursts of pain he couldn’t fight. 

His optics flickered and he weakly tried to move, to do anything. His limbs would not obey him, and as he lay on the hard ground heaving, he wanted to curse. He should have known better than to march off as soon as he’d interacted with a patient. At the time he had just been so very- -tired.

[myloveforfanfictonisendless]

How you think what a primeverse tf character will probably say as pick up line

I huddle up with this while thinking of that(tried to find lines kinda resembles their trades)

Optimus prime: Well, call me a librarian but I’m really digging into you, page by page./if I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.

Starscream: Are you an appendix? Because I think I should take you out.

Rachet: I went to the doctor and, turns out, I don’t have osteoporosis for getting older—you just make me weak in the knees.

Smokescream: Wow, you breathe oxygen too? We already have so much in common.

Knockout: Is your nickname glucose? Because you’re pretty darn sweet./Do you believe in love at first sight—or should I walk by again?

Bumblebee: Are you dopamine? Because you make me pretty happy/they say nothing lasts forever - will you be my nothing?

Shockwave: Let’s logically treat this between us like Newton’s First Law and keep it in motion.

WheelJack: Are you Carbon, Uranium, and Tellurium? Because you’re pretty C-U-Te.

I wonder what Megatron will say though?@spreadwardiard ?

[novafire-is-thinking]

Six Sentence Sunday

Shockwave adjusted the makeshift stylus in his hand. He concentrated on etching the finer lines of his neck cabling.

Once satisfied, he returned to his optics. Flakes of his metal canvas drifted to the floor as he scraped away—careful to avoid the bridge of his nose.

“Why a self portrait?”

Shockwave glanced through the bars of his prison cell at the bot who’d asked the question, sighing as he brushed metallic flakes from the wall.

A while back, I mentioned I’d been hit with an idea for an angsty IDW Shockwave short story.

Let the pain begin…

Tagging @mattinthehat @lets-try-some-writing @karlyanalora @prismicnexus @onewingedsparrow @dramamelon @spreadwardiard @elendiliel @sphnyspinspin @ivycorp @cleverthylacine + any other fic authors I missed

[flipping-the-coin]

Master list & Rules

Hello and welcome to the official ask blog for the Two Sides to a Coin Transformers Prime AU created by @lets-try-some-writing and @spreadwardiard.

Asks:

-NSFW asks are allowed, but they must be sent to Spreadwardiard directly or addressed to him specifically.

-Asks can be directed toward any listed character and can be related to anything. Being mean to the characters is hilarious so please feel free to go nuts, but don’t be needlessly cruel. Mundane questions are also perfectly fine, they are fun to answer. 

-Please don’t be mean to us. We are just writing over here and hyper fixated beyond words.

-No spam please. Send in your ask but please do not send it over and over again. We WILL see it, so don’t be stressful for no reason. 

-If you think a song fits a character or scene, by all means, share with us. We will review it :) 

-No dead dove. That’s it. Our line in the sand is drawn. 

-Feel free to ask for more commentary from a character if you find them appealing. We will be swapping characters available for questioning periodically. Knowing which ones you like will help us decide who to put forward. 

 What we intend to release:

-Character answers to inquiries.

-Supplementary and additional writings.

-Music for characters and scenes.

-Hints and slight spoilers :)

-Thoughts from the authors :D 

Tags and Links:

The fic- Two Sides to a Coin

The Characters

The Authors

Answered Asks

-Optimus Prime

-Orion Pax

-Megatron

-Ratchet

Supplemental Writing

-Ratchet

-Megatron

-Orion Pax

-Paradox

-Complaints

-Hush

-Jazz

This document will be expanded as needed.

[iwozlegit]

Tagged by: @lesbianambulon

Relationship status: …YES

Fav colors: 🌻💛⭐️

Three fav foods: Literally most tomato pasta dishes, Stir fried beef in a black bean sauce with green veggies, Dominoes Garlic Mayo (it heals all ailments)

Song stuck in my head: All Of Your Lies - Morgan Clae

Last song I listened to: Can You Feel The Love Tonight 🥲 god I’m sad

Last Thing I Googled: I rebooked the creative writing evening class I took during the Spring for Autumn … so, that website.

Dream Trip: A universe where the 4 million year long transformers divorce arc didn’t happen I’d quite like to see Antarctica in the flesh!

Anything I really want right now: To not feel so burnt out 24/7 so I can write my fics more often damn

Tagging: @sugarand-everythingnice @melishade @thebrokenbean @spreadwardiard @dippindots-0n @benadrylcandlewhack @echoblaze5 (and anyone else who fancies a try 🫶🏼✨🍍)

[helmoverpede]

I have decided to create my own space to post about my feelings, my experiences, and my interests. I wished to have a space 'just for me.' As an alter, I am approximately one year old, but i have exo memories telling me that I am far older than that, while the body I reside in is 35 years old. I know that I am a fictive introject and that my 'source' is not real, but it feels real to me, as I feel real to myself.

I seek companionship from others. I often feel lonely and isolated and would love to make friendships of my own. However, I also am aware that I am... somewhat difficult to speak with due to my particular communication habits. I have a romantic partner in our system from the same source, and we are quite happily conjunxed. Thus, I am not at all interested in or looking for romantic or sexual connections. But I would love to meet others from my source.

I also am somewhat new to the idea of blogging in this way, and I am still learning the social rules and obligations of the Tumblr community. I apologize in advance for my inevitable mistakes and misunderstandings. This is also a sideblog. Our main blog is spreadwardiard.

We are a traumagenic system that supports endogenic systems.

[tsyal-elentiya]

Post 5 songs in your music rotation and tag 10 people.

Was tagged by @spreadwardiard ! Thanks bud

Down by Rival

Whatever it takes by Imagine Dragons

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

Colors by Halsey

Me Against the World by Simple Plan.

@lets-try-some-writing | @thicctails | @thundersteel | @grahminradarin | @heiress-prime | @puraiuddo

Only got six but here it is

[spreadwardiard]

Yesterday we had 2 beautiful foxes weddings and the prickly pears are blooming!

[myloveforfanfictonisendless]

Me hyping myself before I open my Wattpad or Tumblr every night

My mind: Are you ready to read yet another amazing tf fanfiction

Me: yea...

My mind: To be deeply invested in the fascinating creation manifested by the fingers of those authors pushing you in believing yourself to be "All are one"

Me: Yes!!!!

My mind: Only to find the the story being disconnected and leaving you heart broken until the history repeats itself the "X"th time

Me:

This is to all the authors or artists I have seen or met here or in any other platforms.

People hounding creators for updates and them feeling disconnected enough to produce nothing of their own liking or standard often results in the discontinuation of some of the most amazing stories and art work I have the honour to witness

It is something I see and sympathize often.(as I also write once in a while)

Despite all of that they still write amazing stuff daily so thank you for your hard work is all I wish to convey them.

@lets-try-some-writing-draws @lets-try-some-writing @spreadwardiard @staticoctopus @no-eyj000 @nilawii @tfp-enthusiast @th3e-m4ng0 @transfrmrs @umaia3aurart @robotsaremymuse @robot-horde @lucywrites02 @tamales78 @cyberrose2001 @searchingforatrail

[lets-try-some-writing]

This here is a collaborative project me and the wonderful @spreadwardiard are working on! This AU of ours ponders on the concept of Optimus Prime and Orion Pax being completely different mecha who ended up stuck in the same frame once the Matrix got involved.

Its a mess of misunderstandings, angst, hurt, comfort, family fluff, politics, and a whole lot of world building! We fully intend to dive into all sorts of characters outside of the main duo and explore Cybertron and how it changes because of this singular development! If any of you lovely people are interested in watching this AU grow and develop, please take a look at our work! We would greatly appreciate it.

With that said, here are some memes to give you all a little taste of what we've developed! Yall are probably going to have to click on these to see them properly though.

[myloveforfanfictonisendless]

This is the best tf bio I have ever read in my life....

True feelings of a fan-former

Reblogg if you agree with me!!

And Follow this person in Wattpad... you will not regret it...

@cyberrose2001 @them4ng0 @spreadwardiard @tamales78 @klaudia96art

[lets-try-some-writing]

What if it was another Prime who was reincarnated into Orion Pax? Like instead of The Thirteenth who was reborn as Orion Pax and late became Optimus Prime, what if it was Prima? Or Solus Prime? Or Heck! What if it was Megatonus!

How would the plot change? What would their interactions between the Team, Decepticons and Humans be like? What would their reaction to finding Unicron be like?

Thank you!

Ooooooooh this is a REALLY good prompt. I like it a great deal. Also I loved this idea so much that I took it to my friend @spreadwardiard and with his help, planned out several parts for this AU.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Where is Thirteen?!

It had been decided long ago that the Thirteenth Prime would be the one to return, that he or one of his incarnations would lead Cybertron during its darkest hour. The original Primes all knew this, especially those who perished and were returned to Primus's embrace. It was the rule. And so when Thirteen vanished from among them, sent up to be prepared to enter the living realm, they were all eager and waiting to see what would come of it.

But nothing came. Things continued to grow worse in the living realm, and while they couldn't see it, they could FEEL it. Thirteen should have been up and operating by now. He should have been doing something.

Liege Maximo was not generous by any definition of the term, but he was cunning and calculating. He could tell quite easily that something had either gone wrong, or Thirteen had gotten lost somewhere in his mission. Whatever the case, it needed to be rectified. As such he intended to go the Well's edge, to possibly attempt to hitch a ride with some unsuspecting mech so he could look through their optics and get and idea of what was going on. It would be bending the rules, but he knew how to play his cards. The only reason his plans fell apart last time was due to his belief that Solus would not be overpowered by Megatronus. He was wiser now, he would play his games carefully.

He really should have expected Primus to note his desire and do something with it.

'This was wrong, very very wrong. Thirteen couldn't be gone. Thirteen was supposed to be operating this frame, NOT Liege Maximo. The younger Prime was a fool, but he was the one meant for this task, not Liege, never him. The frame he occupied what quite clearly meant for his diplomatic compatriot, the singular member of the original Primes that Liege failed to gain any sway over. He both admired and resented that fact.

Whatever the case, this was wrong. Horribly and unmistakably wrong.'

Something obviously had deviated from the plan. All Liege could do was internally scream when he found himself within the small and still sparkling like frame quite clearly intended for his fellow Prime. The body he occupied had Thirteen's face, it had his structure, and most disgustingly it had absolutely none of the sharp features Liege loved in his old frame. He hated it with every fiber of his being, and momentarily he considered flinging himself and the abominable frame he operated back into the Well. However that idea was banished when Liege came to the conclusion rather quickly that if HE was operating Thirteen's intended frame, then Thirteen was still up here somewhere, lost and quite possibly stuck in some limbo.

This was not his job. He was the most 'evil' of his fellows, he was the most selfish, and he was NOT meant to be the kind and empathetic leader Primus had likely sent Thirteen up to be. Why in the stars was HE here then? As much as he seethed at the question, he soon found himself with an answer as Alpha Trion came to collect him. The elder Prime knew it was Liege immediately, and in return both were let reeling and wondering where their fellow Prime was.

Alpha Trion: You should not be here Liege.

Liege Maximo: I am well aware of that Trion. Where is Thirteen?

Alpha Trion: I do not know. The Covenant offers no wisdom aside from the assurance that he yet lives.

Liege Maximo: He has a duty to fulfill and I have no interest in remaining in his frame.

Alpha Trion: That much is obvious, but there is little we can do at present. Thirteen must be located and put back on task. Until then, you must operate in his stead.

Liege Maximo: What? I am no empathetic fool like Thirteen. I have wishes, desires, things I wish to have.

Alpha Trion: I am well aware of that Liege. But you have always been charismatic. Use that ability and Thirteen's frame to find him and bring him back into the fold.

Liege Maximo: And what do I gain from this arrangement?

Alpha Trion: A chance to obtain power. If you find him, you will have Thirteen's audial. You always wanted a say in the developments of Cybertron did you not?

Liege was still not pleased with the arrangement, but it was one he had next to no choice in agreeing to. He had no interest in playing messiah for Primus's mortal creations unless he could lord over them, and that was not on the table so long as Thirteen was lurking somewhere. Regardless of his future plans, he still needed to find wherever his fellow Prime had wandered off to, if only to assess the situation. If Thirteen failed to perform, them Liege could begin looking into doing as he wished. Until then, he needed strength and influence, resources he would gain through his search if Thirteen was buried as deep as he predicted.

As such, Liege went with Alpha Trion and contented himself for a time in gathering intelligence as his frame developed. Taking into account the rather docile appearance of his new frame, Liege developed a designation and personality to match. He needed contacts, and his prior personality would simply not cut it, at least so long as he paraded himself so openly. He had been given a set of cards to play, and while not fond of them, he would put them to good use. He chose the designation of Orion Pax, a name he found to be fitting for his purposes. He needed to be seen as intelligent, but kind. He played that role before with Solus. He could do so again. It did not take long for him to be known as the most knowledgeable and kindsparked archivist serving under Alpha Trion. This ended up with the Master Archivist giving Liege, or rather Orion, quite a few side glances, untrusting due to his prior betrayal.

Orion Pax opted to keep his distance from his fellow Prime for both their sakes, but mainly for his plans. Alpha Trion knew him well, he knew that Liege, or Orion, was a master manipulator and speaker. If the Recorder Prime knew all his thoughts, there would be battle between them. As it was, they were only bound by shared duty. Thus while Orion learned under him, he otherwise kept to himself and tried not to be suspicious.

He grew slowly but observed dutifully. He saw the situation on Cybertron and laughed in the face of it. The mortals were so very foolish. They chose their Primes on whims and chained themselves without any subtly. Using reprogramming and castes was so very inefficient. If the mortals really wanted control, they would make their population believe themselves in command through careful usage of propaganda and education, not forced labor. It was too obvious, and there were always mecha willing to look past the veil. How very foolish of them. It was so ridiculous to him that often he spent extraordinary amounts of time digging through files, not for enjoyment, but to dig out the gems amidst the slag. He needed servants like his loyal beasts from so long ago. He needed mecha who would follow him and do his bidding even if they weren't aware of it. And for that, he required competent individuals to serve him.

It was somewhat hard for him to work his way through the archives enough to understand the world in great enough detail to begin his search. It took him millennia, of which he spent patiently working away under Alpha Trion even as he grew in knowledge. He could be patient, especially when he finally found mecha that garnered his interest that were within the realms of his sphere of influence. Orion was of course only a middle caste mech, data caste specifically. There were rules to his station, ones that he found just as foolish as the caste system, but that he was required to adhere to while he blended in and grew in power. With that in mind, there were only two mecha who he could influence who seemed to not be wrapped up in the lies told to them.

Orion Pax: Welcome to the Archives. How may I be of assistance?

Ratchet: I am looking for medical case records from the Rust Plague. I couldn't find them at my local archive. They said the files were transferred here.

Orion Pax: That would be correct. We had those files moved here in response to an influx of medical personnel. I will guide you to the records, please follow me.

Ratchet: Thank you-?

Orion Pax: My designation is Orion Pax. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

It was not hard to throw his weight around as Alpha Trion's student to have files moved. And it was also not at all difficult to purposefully have certain files checked out when Ratchet came, forcing the medical student to return time and time again for more. Orion always made sure to be the one to help him, and to offer nothing but kindness with a hint at a desire to break free of the castes. It was perfect, and before too long, Ratchet came to him without need for manipulation, often speaking on the cruelties of their world. He played his cards well, and in return he gained a loyal ally who was well on his way to climbing up the latter in the medical field.

Jazz was not so easy to take into his circle as the spy was quite simply able to see through his manipulations. Thus Orion instead opted to speak half truths and lure the spy in with promises of a better future. Jazz was rightfully skeptical, but Orion showed his worth by performing a few minor interventions, saving the lives of a few mecha with well placed documents and a few whispers amongst certain circles. Jazz didn't trust him, but he didn't need to. He only needed to serve. In that regard, he was exemplary, doing exactly what Orion needed him to do if Orion could simply convince him it was for the benefit of their endeavors to free the people of Cybertron. Meanwhile behind the scenes, Orion used the influence he garnered to begin his search for his fellow Prime.

Vorns were spent going through records, visiting locations, and trying to find anomalies. It was an impossible task, and quickly ended with Orion deciding that moving along and preparing the way for Thirteen was the best course of action. He had already cemented himself as a 'freedom fighter' amongst his allies, so he might as well use that reputation to make greater contacts. Thirteen would naturally be drawn toward things that aligned with his duty, at least, that was the hope. Thirteen was most likely to be involved in organizations and communities that focused around freedom and care for the weak. As such it simply made sense for Orion to seek out a mech with growing influence down in the pits, if not to find Thirteen, then to increase his own sphere of influence via association.

Alpha Trion: You wish to go to Kaon and use archival funds to do so.

Orion Pax: I do. There is a mech there, one who has named himself after our fallen fellow Prime. He speaks of freedom and fights for it.

Alpha Trion: You have never cared for freedom Liege. What is it you really want?

Orion Pax: Now, don't be hasty Trion. I am going to Kaon to look for Thirteen, just as I said I would. He is most likely to be around those fighting for his precious freedom.

Alpha Trion: What do you gain from this Liege? Don't play games with me.

Orion Pax: So untrusting. If you must know, I intend to establish contact with the gladiator Megatronus and extend my sphere of influence. There is much to be gained from eliminating this ridiculous waste of resources you call the caste system.

Alpha Trion: Such as potential for you to manipulate the order of this world?

Orion Pax: Why I never insinuated anything of the kind Prime. I merely wish to see the people of this world free to act as they will-

Alpha Trion: Preferably for your benefit.

It was quite the affair to convince Alpha Trion to find his expedition, but once it was done, Orion Pax studied Megatronus and prepared the perfect personality and arguments to use. He needed the gladiator to find him useful if nothing else, and due to his position, he brought much to the table. There was no way Megatronus would turn him away, and with the gladiator's help, Orion could ride his way straight into a position of power able to manipulate Cybertron. Finding Thirteen would be a bonus since he could throw his sibling Prime into the position of poster mech and control things from the sidelines. It was a perfect plan, one with little room for egregious error.

Only as soon as he finally secured a meeting with the gladiator, he suddenly found himself vividly remembering the chaos that was his first attempt to control the flow of things during the first age as one mech stuck out like an energon crystal in the rust sea. He came expecting to meet Megatronus, and possibly even locate Thirteen hiding away somewhere as a small domestic worker or even settled with a family. He was not at all ready to meet Megatronus and find himself being stared down by a masked mech who looked nearly nothing like his brother Prime, but was quite clearly the one and only Thirteen.

Orion Pax: Greetings, it is a pleasure to meet you-?

???: Greeting accepted: Orion Pax aknowledged.

Orion Pax: You know my designation? How-?

Megatronus: The moment you reached out to me, I had my associate here look into you. I do not like acting without the input of my second.

Orion Pax straining to keep smiling: Oh? I was unaware you had someone with such capabilities on your side, much less a second in command.

Megatronus: Why yes, Soundwave is a highly capable friend and compatriot. I would have never gotten this far without his aid in planning and management. He is a true ally and the only who I believe could best me in the arena.

Orion Pax struggling to not break character: I see. In that case, shall we begin discussion? As I stated in my message, I wish to hear more of your ideals and operations.

It was against all the odds, yet somehow Thirteen happened to be the mysterious spymaster and second in command of Megatronus of Kaon of all mecha. The Thirteen Orion, or rather Liege Maximo recalled was soft spoken, a diplomate of few words but endless empathy and consideration. This mech... he had to be Thirteen, his spark signature and everything about his told Orion as such, but he was different, wiser, and no longer the naïve Prime from so long ago. He had not been idle during his time in the living realm, and yet no matter how hard Orion looked into "Soundwave" he could barely find anything. All information on the mech was hidden behind Prime and council level security. If he went to Alpha Trion asking for the information, the recorder Prime was likely to become outright hostile.

He couldn't risk it. He would just need to work on his own. Now that he knew who Thirteen was, he just needed to move him into a position where Orion could manipulate him. But that quickly proved to be a challenge as the moment he tried to use his persona on Soundwave, his brother Prime noted him immediately and cornered him.

Orion Pax: Soundwave! I would be in your debt if you would look over these speeches I have composed for Megatronus-!

Soundwave: Liege Maximo's games are waste of time. Megatronus: No fool. Tolerates you because of usefulness. Hard to win trust.

Liege Maximo: Why Thirteen, I do not wish to harm him or anyone for that matter. I merely wish for this world to be made into the best version of itself. Does that not start with removing the caste system?

Soundwave: Liege Maximo: Betrayed us. Had Megatronus kill Solus. Was punished by Megatronus. Liege Maximo: Does not remember last attempt at manipulation?

Liege Maximo: I am well aware of my faults Thirteen. But that is why I need your aid. You were meant to inhabit this frame, not me. If I had my way I would never have come to the living realm as I am. You are far better suited to lead this people. Can I not help you get there?

Soundwave: Manipulations: Useless. Liege Maximo: Will refer to Soundwave by designation. Not Thirteen anymore. Soundwave: Has no interest in ruling. Megatronus: Better suited.

Liege Maximo: Then why don't we put aside our differences for the time being to help him? He wants to fix things doesn't he? If I prove untrustworthy by the time he gets to speak to the council, then we can discuss this further. How does that sound?

Soundwave: .... Parameters: Acceptable. Liege Maximo: Will be killed if Megatronus is harmed.

Liege Maximo: Of course brother. I would never touch your Champion, at least not without cause.

Soundwave: Final warning: Do. Not. Touch. Megatronus.

Orion or rather Liege Maximo finally found Thirteen, but it seemed that his fellow Prime was not at all trusting. It was an agitating turn of events, but manageable. Now with Thirteen at least within his realm of influence, Orion could finally begin working to accomplish his own aims.

[lets-try-some-writing]

⭐️ You got anything cool you wanna share? 👀

Of course!

Pretender AU Ramble:

The Pretender AU is currently my favorite Tumblr AU and let me tell you, I am slow writing for it because the plot THICKENS. The idea came into being when I saw an image of some creepy looking Megatron & Optimus artwork. Then as I sat down with my writing buddy to discuss the AU and go over some of the asks I have gotten for it to create a coherent plot, things got deeper than they originally were.

Literally no one is the good guy in the Pretender AU, despite how it may look. Megatron may seem like the hero, but he is still on his crazy train (which will be showcased later). Optimus may seem like a monster (which he is), but if you look at it, he is simply a being who was born of the wrong host. If ANYONE else had been his host, he would have been fine and the Pretenders could have integrated without issue most likely. Orion Pax would have learned of them, and possibly even gone so far as to create an alliance with these beings considering they operate a great deal like an ant colony and their abilities cannot be overlooked.

Why do I bring this up? Because Megatron is a hypocrite. He wishes to free all sentient beings. Well guess what? The Pretenders are very much sentient. He can't see that, or rather he refuses to due to the trauma of witnessing Orion Pax's slow death. He also does not see many others as sentient in light of his fear of the Pretenders. The Insecticons are on the chopping block just because they share traits with the Pretenders. Beastformers have never been looked on fondly, and in light of the Pretenders, they are also not taken to kindly. By seeing them this way, they have turned to the Pretenders (which will be shown in later writing I have planned).

By refusing to see the Pretenders are sentient beings, many other minor factions are also being thrown under the bus. This has unintentionally given the Pretenders the tools they need to endure. The Pretenders were made for a purpose, and they are really fragging good at doing their job. But Megatron refusing to let go of his personal vendetta was pretty much the only thing dragging out the war. And by doing so, he forced the Pretenders to become less emotive, more calculating, and hyperactive. It is a self destructive cycle and no one is the good guy here. Both factions make things worse for each other and they make the other group more and more fanatical just by existing. There is no victory here.

Well.

That is except for Smokescreen.

He plays the LONG game.

Extra:

Fun fact about the LTSW writing process:

Almost ALL of my fics and AU's are run past my dear friend @spreadwardiard. I come up with the concept and the base for the plot, and then they help me build the idea until we settle on an amazing story. Occasionally I work on something entirely alone, but at this point pretty everything except surprise gifts/small writing projects unworthy of serious note are given to them to think about prior to the actual written work being completed.

My work would not be nearly as interesting without their input. Having a friend to polish up an idea with really is a lifesaver.

You can tell which AU's I didn't run past them because I either don't touch them anymore, the plot/timeline is rather disjointed, or its a goofy thought rather than anything super serious. That's how much I lean on the commentary of others to really get the ball rolling for my work.