#transformers ashes of cybertron

[autobotprime]

“You can’t save everyone, kid.”

still from Transformers: Ashes of Cybertron | The Rebel’s Story

Season 3, Ep. 40 “Burning Paradise”

I’ve spent the last 16 months planning, writing and drawing. I’m a third of the way done…and haven’t truly completed a single aspect of this project…so of course I skipped all the way ahead to create a mood piece from the literal climax of the series because I was feeling *anxious*. All 62 episode titles are also the titles of the songs that inspired the series. For this one, “Burning Paradise” by MEJKO was the inspo. Talk about despair.

[tomorobo-illust]

See hi-res version here: patreon.com/posts/tf-starscream-114678238

What's left to say? These prayers ain't working anymore ~ I hear you call my name And it feels like home Why YES, of course, I also went to see Deadpool & Wolverine. I meant to draw Deadpool and Wolverine things, but I was also stuck in Transformers land and my brain decided to make this instead.

Starscream FINALLY became Cybertron leader, but barely a day passed when he found out his timeline is dying because his universe's Optimus Prime is very GONE. No problem, just find another one and everything is fixed right? Congrats Starscream, you found the saddest one of them all 8D

The quote was inspired by this video I found regarding the Matter and Antimatter: youtube.com/watch?v=vXd3UY_F8OI

And this fantastic mashup of I've been listening to nonstop while working on this piece, "Ashes & like a Prayer - Ultimate Mashup (Edited Version)" by Penguin Performances: youtube.com/watch?v=GmDwgw2erDs

[lets-try-some-writing]

Concept: the entire Transformers franchise is one giant time loop. Every new iteration is another attempt to get it right and avert the Great War.

I wrote an entire one shot specifically for this ask. Enjoy.

Aversion at its Finest

Primus has never been pleased with the fact that his creations always go to war with each other. Thus, in an attempt to keep the Cybertronian civil war from occurring, he has chosen to periodically rebuild reality and try again with the help of his chosen. Unfortunately for Optimus, Primus is learning the ropes just as much as he is, and until they both get it right, neither can rest.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The skies were thick with smog. Fires burned in the distance, but only their crackling filled the void. There were no more cries. No more moans of pain or the curses of the most hardened warriors of both sides. All was quiet. Everything was gone… save for Optimus and his foe.

The hole in his chassis burned. He could feel his frame shutting down as he lay in the ash, his limbs useless now that he had no enemy to fell or weapon to hold. He would have liked to see the stars as it all came to an end, especially since he was not surrounded by friends and family as he had been during his first death. Yet, he didn’t dare turn his gaze away from the blackened skies. If he did, he knew all he would see was Rodimus’s body stabbed through with dozens of pieces of rebar and Elita torn limb from limb.

Both had fought so very hard for him. Trying desperately to buy him just a little more time. If they had only had the chance to activate the space bridge, maybe they could have brought their species to its bitter end on their homeworld rather than dragging Earth down with them. As it was… this was to be the end. The end of everything. No more games. No more laughter.

Only silence.

“We had a good run, didn’t we, Prime?” Megatron spoke up, his voice as deep and grating as ever. There was a faint tremor to it, the barest inklings of fear that threatened to peek through the persona of madness he usually wore. After so many millennia of fighting the mech, Optimus could tell that he was seeking companionship, even now as they lay waiting for their respective ends.

“Yes we did, Megatron.” Optimus replied just as faintly, his right optic flickering just enough to annoy him even with the pain of death creeping at the edges of his every waking thought. He kept his optics on the sky, not wanting to see the devastation. At least the black above was without blemish. It was solid, not filled with horrors. Merely the echoes of them.

How had it all come to this? Cybertron was restored. Their people were thriving. Optimus and Rodimus were ruling together and Galvatron left for the stars? Just how had it all gone so wrong?

A renewed war.

A plague of hate.

The Quintessons and their creations.

Unicron’s wrath.

So many little things… all of it leading them right back to where they started. War and violence, pain and anguish… without a hint of hope to be found. When had Optimus heard any of his soldiers laugh? It had to have been centuries.

“Rodimus was a poor replacement. I never did get the same thrill fighting him.” Megatron chuckled and Optimus had to fight the urge to work up the strength to throttle him to death for it. Even now as everything they could have possibly worked toward lay burning to ash, his foe was still laughing about it all. Like it was some grand game.

“He was never meant for war, and you were hardly yourself when you were Galvatron.” Optimus was unable to stop the hint of bitterness that entered his tone. Rodimus had not asked for the burden. He never deserved such an end.

“Very true.” Megatron responded with a faint huff that died down soon enough.

Silence consumed the battlefield for a while. Perhaps it was mere minutes. Or maybe it went on for years. Time meant nothing now. But eventually, as if to spite him one final time, Megatron opened his mouth again.

“You were a good rival, Optimus. Always taking me by surprise.” The comment briefly took Optimus by surprise. But the cold was already settling into frame, making his processor slow and his reactions more controlled. He said nothing, opting instead to observe the skies as he had since he fell.

“I’m going to miss this.” Megatron’s faint wish rang in his audials. Optimus acknowledged it with a soft hum, his final offer of amiability considering the circumstances. As much as a small part of him screamed that he should let Megatron suffer at the end of it all, the rest of his spark could not handle that idea. They were dying anyway. Might as well do so in relative comfort. 

So many millennia of conflict… Why had they battled at all? Megatron was a power hungry villain, yes. But how did it reach that point? Why did Megatron attack him and his friends at the docks? Why had Megatron risen to power at all? 

Why had it turned out this way?

His processor ached as he thought back, dredging up ancient memory and finding nothing. Had there even been a point?

“Why were we fighting to begin with? Why did you choose to do all of this?” Optimus found the question escaping his vocalizer before he could stop it. Against his better judgement, he looked over at Megatron and saw his foe grinning, but not meeting his gaze. The beam stuck in Megatron’s abdomen left him spitting up energon as he cackled.

“Come now Prime. You should know the answer to this.” Megatron’s optics blazed between flickers, his servo reaching up toward the sky as if to grasp at some invisible goal. Optimus wondered what the answer would be. Glory? Some strange ideal that he’d never seen fit to share? Perhaps to avenge a long dead loved one?

“Power of course.” 

Ah.

He should have known better.

“But why? You were a state of the art model. You had the whole world in front of you, and instead you chose to burn it all down.” Anger and despair boiled in Optimus’s very core. All this death had been for some twisted power fantasy? At least if it had been due to some old rivalry or goal Optimus could have died with an answer.

By the stars… what a life he’d lived.

“I’ve forgotten.” Megatron’s response to his anguished question came soft and oddly thoughtful. Yet, Optimus could only respond with a grim scoff, a sound he hadn’t made since he was Orion Pax.

“You’ve forgotten why you killed millions?” 

“You act as though you haven’t slaughtered thousands yourself.” Megatron shot back with a vicious retort before laughing. If Optimus were capable of shaking in rage, he would have. But his frame was weakening, his systems failing faster now. He simply didn’t have the energy.

“Does it really matter, Prime? Today we die. So shut up and do it with a bit of grace.” Optimus’s optic twitched in agitation. Megatron was one to talk when all he’d done was screech at Starscream and Soundwave the times he lay on death’s door.

“Never would have taken you to be a mech to go down quietly.” Optimus snarked as he sensed the Matrix going quiet. That was his sign to hurry up with his final will and testament if he’d had anyone aside from the glitch next to him to express his thoughts to.

“Normally, I wouldn’t. But I dragged you down with me, didn’t I? Ripped your Autobots apart and blasted you half to pieces.” Oh for the good of Vector Sigma-

Optimus’s optic twitched again, anger bubbling so hotly that if he’d had even the barest inkling of strength left he would have gotten up and shut Megatron up himself, mercy forgotten. As it stood, all he could do was clench his fist and rage internally.

“You are the worst.” His bitter remark was met with a laugh, one he didn’t bother responding to. Not even a few minutes later, the faint sounds of Megatron’s venting vanished, leaving Optimus alone with his fate. A bitter part of his processor cursed at his old foe for being selfish yet again and dying before Optimus could. But most of his spark was simply weary.

Anger faded into sorrow and lamentation. Strength slipped right through his digits and the only comfort Optimus had in his final moments were the memories of better times. Even those did little to ease him as his venting grew harsher.

It wouldn’t be long now.

“Elita… what would you think of this madness?” Optimus coughed weakly, an instinctual response to try and clear his soot filled vents. He knew it was useless, especially as his processor started furiously running through every memory file it had access to.

He saw his soldiers in their final moments. He saw the war at its worst and the peace Rodimus brought. He saw his first clash with Megatron after his reformat. But most importantly to him, he saw Ariel’s fair face smiling at him as she guided Orion Pax along the docks for one of their usual dates. He felt her derma against his as they danced under the moonlight, and with that memory held close, all was right with the world.

It was a pleasant vision, one Optimus clung to as his optics shut down and the rest of his frame quickly followed suit. But instead of the Allspark greeting him, Optimus found himself in a void. Formless and alone. 

He had no idea how long he spent there or if it even mattered. But eventually, as thought and consciousness grew less important, a voice rang out.

“So much death…” 

The chorus-like nature of the voice washed over Optimus in waves, reviving memories that had gone dormant and bringing him back to full awareness. He could not identify where the song came from or if it came from anywhere at all. All he knew was that it was powerful and demanded respect he knew not how to give.

“You were all such innocent children. It should not have come to this.”

Children? Strange.

“We will try again. We will make this right.”

What was that supposed to mean? He died. That was it. He was one with the Allspark once more. Wasn’t he?

“Who’s there? What’s going on?” He tried to ask questions, but his voice felt like a faint wisp in the wind compared to the power of the entity which spoke as if the whole universe hung in its grasp.

“Hush now. Rest while you can. Your duty is not yet done.”

Optimus’s vision was flooded with images of things he could hardly comprehend. War. Death. Fire and brutal combat. The forms of the fighters changed, sometimes thick and sometimes spindly. But through it all, there was one figure Optimus knew by spark. Gunmetal gray and built for war, he knew the frame of his foe without even having to think about it. With his blaster raised to the sky and a roar bubbling in his vocalizer, Optimus understood what was being asked of him.

The battle was not yet over. He didn’t know how or why, but Megatron was out there, and he had to be stopped. That was the only possible conclusion Optimus could come to.

“How long must I fight?”

“Till All Are One.”

And then everything faded away once more.

----

Optimus came online slowly, memory washing over him in an overpowering wave that left him shaking on whatever berth he was laid out on. There was much to sort through, but the first thing he remembered was his current identity. 

He was Optimus Prime, brought to life using a protoform and trained at the Academy to serve the Autobots and guard Cybertron against their greatest foes, the Decepticons. He was raised under the belief that the war was over and that his programming defined his reality. However, he fought against both of these concepts and strove to be something more, a hero of all things.

He had friends during training. Elita-One and Sentinel. Both betrayed him, although at different times and with varying justification. Cast aside for his ‘crimes’, Optimus was allowed to keep the rank of Prime, a position that came close to equaling that of General rather than supreme ruler of the people. From there he was all but demoted and supplied with a crew to repair space bridges.

It was a simple life, but ambition and one unfortunate crash led them to Earth. Megatron and his Decepticons remerged. He made friends, growing close to his team who were so similar and yet so different all at once. He did not know a Bulkhead until now, or a Sentinel for that matter. But Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Elita? They sparked recognition in him. 

Slag, his processors hurt.

“Bossbot! You alright?” A far too excitable voice prompted Optimus to unshutter his optics, coming online fully with a groan. He sat up slowly, rubbing his face and trying to comprehend his reality as he began to recall more. Looking at the bot who called him, Optimus logically knew him as Bumblebee. But half his processor screamed at him that Bumblebee looked and acted differently. Boxier, more mature in some regards, and yet playful all the same.

This Bumblebee was his, but he was wrong. All so very wrong.

“Bumblebee? What… happened?” Optimus’s optics tried to calibrate, but there was something off about it. These optics were a little different from the ones he knew. Where was his battlemask? Why was he so… lanky?

No. He was always lanky. The memories… they were not his. 

“You were holding the Allspark and got a bit too close.” Ratchet put a servo on his shoulder, stunning Optimus as he stared at the medic. Slag, he was ancient. His records stated he was old, but contradicting memory indicated that Ratchet was meant to at least act a bit younger with humor and laughter. What the frag happened?

“It knocked you flat on your aft!” Bumblebee laughed, and that much at least was familiar. Optimus touched his chassis, feeling his spark pulse within as memory settled. Ancient and now useless protocols faded away to make room for data he could actually use. 

“I… yes. I remember.” He was a dock worker once. Orion Pax was his name. He was shot. He was reforged. He claimed a relic his current reality did not know until the Allspark was placed within it. He fought against his enemy, Megatron. He went on adventures, made friends.

Then he lay in ash and ruin, his world shattered.

“I died.” His voice came out softer than intended as Optimus looked down at his servos. They were not covered in scars like his old ones. They did not reek of plasma, nor did his body ache with familiar pains from centuries of hastily tended wounds. He was young, and now he had wisdom.

“Yeah, but that was forever ago back on Earth!” Bumblebee tapped his arm lightly, but Optimus hardly reacted. It was difficult having two personalities settle, but purpose guided him. The voice in the void ordered that he fight Megatron. Did he have to obey?

Looking at his team, his friends… Optimus found himself leaning into the order regardless of the validity of the voice and its authority. The wisdom of the Prime he once was, or at least the Prime that existed in another time and place, would aid him in saving his own people and saving them that same fate.

He was Optimus Prime, and his mission was to stop Megatron at all costs.

“His processor is scrambled.” Bulkhead gestured nervously, earning a huff from Ratchet who began taking scans. Optimus paid him no mind, instead standing up and squaring his shoulders. The joy of his first existence was more subdued now, calmed by reawakening and determination.

“Where is Megatron?” The question came sharply, more so than Optimus intended. His voice shook as he attempted to speak with a vibrato he no longer possessed. His friends looked at him strangely, and Ratchet took the chance to quietly begin assessing his frame. Optimus allowed it, his focus elsewhere.

“In prison. We brought him back to Cybertron, remember?” Bulkhead informed politely, only earning a low hum from Optimus as he considered. Megatron was defeated. So why had the voice done this and ordered that he fight? He’d won, hadn’t he? Surely there was something missing… Perhaps another Decepticon? A Galvatron in the making? Or was Unicron the threat?

“And the rest of the Decepticons?” He could feel his spark sinking in his chassis as he considered the possibilities. If so much as Starscream managed to get away-

“Unaccounted for.” Frag.

Optimus cursed under his breath, a habit that his prior self would have never approved of. He crossed his arms, thinking and reviewing memory for a long moment until something stuck out.

Tender touches shared in the dark. First with Elita-One, and then with another. A blue visor that shone in the moonlight, the simple pleasure of digits laced together. A soothing voice and dozens of hours spent in meditation he never quite understood but engaged in anyway for the sake of companionship. The adoring glances exchanged when the others were deep in recharge or otherwise engaged…

“What about Prowl?” His spark knew the truth, as did his processor. But some small fragment of Optimus’s being needed confirmation.

“He fell in the final battle.” Ratchet’s words hit harder than expected, and Optimus couldn’t help but sit back down with a sigh.

It was never official. What he shared with Prowl was a simple companionship that walked the line between something deeper and mere brotherhood. They never used words to describe themselves because such labels were dangerous. They both claimed it would hurt more that way. And yet, as Optimus reviewed his memories of their intimate moments shared when no one was looking, he felt nothing but grief. No one knew what they had. None would understand.

It was like leaving Elita-One on Cybertron all over again. The ache would never fully fade, but it was dulled by the memories of his prior existence which diluted his affections, spreading them out over others who he had not even met in his current reality.

“I see…” Optimus took a moment to sit in silence, a grace period that even the likes of Bumblebee respected. Memory supplied him with countless battles, and from the experiences of his prior self, he had a feeling that he’d already come too late to stop what was brewing. His memory would do little when the Decepticons were already a fully trained, highly organized militia. There was no stopping it now.

“This… is not going to end well.” Optimus’s words were hardly a whisper, but they felt dooming.

His declaration turned out to be entirely correct as time wore on.

The Autobot empire fell apart in brutal fashion, with Ultra Magnus dying and Sentinel Magnus making a fragging mess out of everything. Optimus raised a militia of his own with the help of his other self’s memory, but by the time he had his people in line and Sentinel in prison, war was already upon them. Megatron matched the vision the voice shared as he burned their cities and killed their warriors. Optimus fought as well as he could, but this Megatron was far more cunning that the one his prior self knew. Not quite as vicious perhaps, but highly intelligent. 

One battle after another, and Optimus watched history repeat itself. The laughter and joy of his people dimmed. Stoicism and anger set in as the Allspark failed and their war grew more destructive. It was like the great war from long before his forging, only a thousand times worse. Optimus had no words to describe it as he led his warriors onward, fighting for something even he no longer understood. He acted because that was what duty demanded. Heroism and personal agendas were irrelevant. 

Vorns upon vorns of conflict, and he ended up right where he began. His warriors had all been slaughtered, with Bumblebee and Sentinel of all bots having fallen in his defense instead of Elita-One and Rodimus. His frame was slowly shutting down from yet another brutal blaster wound to his chassis, leaving Optimus on his knees. But instead of having the satisfaction of bringing Megatron down with him, Optimus sat alone amidst the rubble of their world, a blaster pointed right at his helm.

“This is the end, little Prime.” Megatron’s voice rang out, but he couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry. This Megatron was not a glitch about his victory. Instead… he seemed somewhat solemn as he lowered his weapon temporarily, allowing Optimus a chance to speak.

“Why? Why go this far?” Optimus couldn’t help but ask the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since he woke all those vorns ago, before he was bitter and scarred. His Megatron had been a power hungry glitch, insanity driving his every action. But this Megatron was far wiser. So why had he done this? Why burn it all down?

“Because your people, the society you built, are corrupt. My kind were bound in chains, told they were monsters and enslaved.” Megatron knelt down, a sign he recognized as indicating respect. Optimus released his axe with a faint cough as he clutched the wound on his side. There was no point fighting now. And beyond that… there was truth in Megatron’s words.

Reviewing the history of both his lives, he could see that there were cracks. Orion Pax had been oblivious to the hidden discrimination toward the frame types that fell out of acceptable ranges. In his current existence, Optimus could now clearly sense the lies that had been fed to him. Thousands of warframe and only warframes would not rebel without reason. They would not flee for millennia instead of blowing the planet to the next solar system. They weren’t an organization built for seeking out power.

Megatron had reasons for his violence, and that at least was a vague comfort.

“I may have had to wait millions of years, but today my people shall have their vengeance and their freedom.” Megatron’s optics were blazing, and yet offered no emotion except eerie calm. Optimus coughed as he tried to respond. It hurt so much now…

“I… I fought for the freedom of my people too. I have fought for so long.” He hated whining, but he was unable to stop the tremor in his voice as he sagged in defeat. He’d managed to fail a second time.

“And I do not blame you for your struggle. You had no way of seeing through the lies.” Megatron, in a gesture of good will Optimus would have never expected, carefully pulled Optimus to his pedes. He held the back of Optimus’s neck, keeping up the illusion that he had the strength to walk himself as Megatron guided him to stand before the Decepticon army, now reveling in their victory.

“Here stands the last of the Autobots! The only one among their number who shall die with honor!” Megatron’s voice rang out. But instead of cheering, the Decepticons stood quiet and firm. Their optics were all locked onto him, but none were disrespecting the dead. The Autobots who had fallen were laid out, gathered by lower ranked Decepticons to be put to rest respectfully. It was enough to have Optimus’s venting hitch as Megatron’s blade came to rest against his neck.

He had failed. But at least this end was an honorable one.

“You were a good rival, Optimus. Die well, and know that I have respected no other as I have you.” Optimus managed a faint laugh as he looked up, uncaring of the doom that awaited him as he once again found himself staring up at smoke filled skies. 

He missed Elita. He missed Prowl.

“Till All Are One.” With his final mutter, the blade came down, and Optimus knew no more…

Until the voice rang out as it had millennia earlier.

“Too late. You woke too late.”

The chorus washed over him again, soothing and yet dejected all at once. Optimus felt a flash of anger infused his being as he snapped back, pain and anguish from both lives overwhelming reason.

“How was I supposed to have remembered earlier? I only got my memory back when I used the Allspark-” Before he could finish, the voice cut him off firmly, but not unkindly.

“It was not your fault. You fought well, my chosen.”

Optimus wanted to stay angry, but the faint comfort kept him from doing more than bristling internally. 

“We will try again. Just as we did before.”

Oh. 

So the voice was going to send him back again. But why? What did this thing care about so deeply?

“Who are you?” He tried to pose a question, but again the voice silenced him as it washed around him in a maelstrom of love, determination, and conviction.

“Not now. We are out of time.”

----

Once more, Optimus woke. This time however, he came online with a start. 

He shot up, clutching at his chassis as his spark spun and his processor burned with new data. It was easier this time to know and to accept. This frame was built for larger stores of information, a genetic quality of his lineage. He heard others around him, but he was far more focused on the meshing of personalities that now overwhelmed him.

He was forged a Prime, rather than made into one. He was of an ancient line, but only by the standards of his current reality. By any other metric, he was still young, practically a newbuild. He had a brother, Megatron. Together they were raised by Sentinel Prime, but only Optimus was chosen to lead their people. Megatron was to be his Lord High Protector, but too many squabbles and differences of opinion led to jealousy. That jealousy boiled over into war.

Optimus led his people as well as he could, but compared to the experiences of his other lives, he was all but a child. He had strength and he had wisdom, but he lacked the necessary exposure to truly wage war successfully. Megatron was no better, and so their war waged until their world burned and the galaxy crumbled in their wake. Countless good mecha died, including close allies and companions during the battle to save Earth and reclaim the Matrix.

And Jazz… by the Allspark, they’d lost Jazz.

“Prime, slow down.” Ratchet pressed a servo against his chest, forcing Optimus to sit back down as he unknowingly attempted to stand. Only then did Optimus note how erratic his venting was, or how hard his servos shook as he tried to calm his anxious spark. 

“Slaggit mech, scared the scrap outta us.” Ironhide tugged on Optimus’s arm as well, forcing him to settle. Optimus looked at both their faces and had to fight back a flinch. Ironhide looked… wrong by the standard of his prior lives. As did Ratchet for that matter. Their face plates did not exist, instead replaced by ever shifting parts to facilitate movement that he logically knew was required for proper functionality in their kind.

After a moment, Optimus’s initial fear response settled and he began to review anything of importance. Immediately he recognized the fact that he was far too late to do what the voice was asking of him. He still wasn’t entirely sure if the voice wanted him to kill Megatron or win the war. But both options were practically impossible to reach considering his situation. Their people were all but extinct as it was. Even if he won the war and ended his brother, their world was still dead.

It would be like the first life he lived. Eventually, they would all perish. Considering how upset the voice was about the death of so many, Optimus assumed it would prefer a different outcome. Slag there was so much to do. He was already too late to save what was lost. Jazz would have already had a plan-

Jazz.

His servos shook as Optimus buried his face in his servos, remembering yet another loss that weighed on him. First Elita, then Prowl, and now Jazz. 

Jazz had been with him since the beginning. He was a friend during training, a comrade as Optimus found himself accepted into the ranks of Primes, and later he became something more as the war began and dragged on endlessly. His spark cried out in grief as he recalled the countless times Jazz had come to spend time with him when he was but a scientist. They shared so many moments, tender touches and deep conversations. Jazz was, despite all his joy and whimsy, a highly educated and thoughtful mech.

Many of their youthful plans had long since been discarded. But Optimus remembered talk of hatchlings. He recalled many long nights where neither of them could recharge, so they cuddled up close and instead talked about better times. Slag it all, they had made a promise to formally join their houses once the war came to an end.

Now it didn’t matter. Not only had he failed to do as the voice asked, he’d failed to save the one person he really cared about aside from his former brother.

“I’m too late.” Oprimus’s voice cracked as he spoke. Ironhide and Ratchet stalled in their attempts to comfort him. The others were likely just as confused.

“I don’t understand it all. But I know now that I’m too late to change how this will all end.” Optimus muttered more to himself than to the others, grief overriding reason. He did not understand the voice, but by the Allspark he wished he could curse it for doing this to him.

“No matter how hard I fight to end this accursed war, it always ends in sorrow.” Always in ashes. Always alone. 

“Why? Why did it have to be me? Why was I chosen?” Curse it all. He should have died with Elita and Rodimus back on that forsaken battlefield. Perhaps then he could have found peace until the Quintessons inevitably revived their species as slaves once more.

“Losing Jazz hit us all hard… but we’re going to be alright, Optimus. You are going to be alright.” Strong arms wrapped around Optimus’s shoulders, drawing him into a firm embrace. Looking up, Optimus found it was Bumblebee who held him, his voice a mix of radio clips and static, but just as comforting as ever. This was a mech he recognized from all his lives. Despite all the minute differences, this was still his Bee.

“Bee’s right. You aren’t yourself. That last fight really fragged up y’er helm.” Ironhide patted him on the shoulder, offering comfort in his own gruff way. It did little to help, but Optimus appreciated the gesture anyway as the lamentations of two other lifetimes settled in his very core.

“I have to agree with Ironhide for once. Take some time and rest, Optimus. You need it.” Ratchet tried to smile, as did the rest. Unfortunately, it did next to nothing for Optimus’s mental state, even though he would have liked it to.

Battles came and went. Megatron died and was revived. The stakes continued to grow ever higher. When Quintessa came, Optimus was too tired to resist her call. He wanted to be done with it all, and if her offer of revival was what it took, he was willing to do what was required of him. Even when he broke free of her spell through Bumblebee and created a tentative peace between his kind and humanity, it was all very empty.

Megatron was unaccounted for. The Decepticons still roamed. Their war was not over… merely stalled.

There was no point in fighting anymore… at least not in this life.

“Hey Optimus.” Bumblebee called out to him as Optimus sat on a grassy hill, overlooking the landscape. He’d already made his decision, but he could tell Bumblebee sensed it.

“Bumblebee… it is good to see you again.” Optimus replied curtly, his sword resting firmly by his side. His optics were locked on the setting sun, enjoying a brief moment of peace before he tried again. The voice would surely make him fight once more, so for a mere klik, he wanted respite.

“You haven’t been around for a while. You know you can talk to us about stuff, right?” Bumblebee came to sit with him, a servo resting on Optimus’s leg in a friendly manner. Optimus regarded it with a faint hum, feeling calmer than he had in several Earth years. Such turmoil… such hopelessness. He had no idea what happened to the world when he perished and the voice took him, but Optimus hoped that those he left behind kept on living. He hoped the galaxy recovered from the war, back in his first realm. And as much as he hated the suffering of his last life, he did partially wish that the Decepticons were indeed ruling Cybertron in peace now that the Autobots were gone.

By the stars… it would soothe him greatly if his people managed to find a safe source of energon and began raising hatchlings again. He could never accomplish what the voice wanted, but his people, if they were lucky and didn’t annihilate each other in his absence, would endure.

“I know.” Optimus’s response was stalled, but Bumblebee didn’t seem to mind as they both sat there quietly. The sun continued to set, and as it did, Optimus felt his time drawing to a close. He had not had the chance in prior lives… but maybe this time a final will and testament was due.

“I’ve done this before, Bumblebee.” The words flowed easily from his vocalizer, relieving tension that had hung heavy in his shoulders since his waking. Bumblebee regarded him nervously, but did not interrupt as he continued.

“Countless battles, endless conflicts. Yet I cannot seem to complete the task that was given to me.” Looking up, Optimus was relieved further as he saw stars instead of smoke. It was going to be a pleasant deviation from his prior existences. 

“What task is that?” Bumblebee questioned hesitantly, his concern evident in the way his optics cycled and his door wings twitched. Optimus felt a hint of guilt bubble up in his spark, but it was soon smothered by exhaustion. The voice would return him soon enough. It didn’t really matter.

“I… do not know. Not entirely.” He admitted his ignorance without shame. The voice had given him a duty, but that duty was vague and uncertain. “How can you do something if you don’t even know what you are meant to be accomplishing? You treat yourself too harshly.” Such comfort from one so young. The two other lives within him smiled at the offered kindness. But Optimus merely sighed. 

Born too late to stop the war… This was all he could do.

“The one who gave me my purpose, the one who keeps making me fight… that being showed me a vision of my brother. The fire… the death… I felt that maybe he was the key. But he’s no longer a threat, and I do not feel complete.” More and more of the weight lifted from Optimus’s spark as he poured out his woes. There was a certain melancholy to the whole situation, but speaking was freeing.

“I think I was meant to preserve our world and our people. But I came too late to do that.” Optimus had his opinions when it came to the voice and its vision. Now that he’d lived three times and failed in each attempt he made to target Megatron specifically, he had a feeling the voice wanted something else.

But even if that were the case, there was still nothing he could do in his current state. His work here was done.

“We live and there is a chance at restoration. You did all you could. You are not to blame.” Bumblebee’s tone indicated he was more than a little concerned. However, Optimus simply hummed. The ache of loss hurt more than it should have. But Jazz had meant so much to him in this life… and the loss was fresh.

“So I’ve been told… but I know in my spark that this is not what the entity sought. I shall be forced to fight once more. Of that I am certain.” Optimus again looked back up at the skies, trying to find familiar constellations he learned while talking with Spike all those vorns ago. What would that boy think of him now? There was no joy in him anymore. At least, not the open variety.

“Maybe you should take some time off… go join Drift and explore for a while. I’m sure Sam would love to see you again.” Bumblebee offered with a nervous uptick of his doorwings. The air between them was tense, unspoken understanding radiating on both their ends. Bumblebee was doing his part, but it was clear that Optimus was going to do what he planned to, and no one could stop him.

“I shall consider it.” Offering a gentle smile, Optimus clasped Bumblebee’s shoulder and memorized his features. He hoped the voice’s next attempt would let him keep his oldest friend. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep marching on if every time he woke, his dearest companion was always deceased.

“Optimus, I know you’ve got your own monsters to face, but please… don’t give up on us or yourself.” Bumblebee drew Optimus in for a hug, one that lasted a while. But eventually the time came for his companion to leave. Bumblebee hesitated, looking back periodically as he made his way back to base. Optimus kindly did not act until long after dark, and even then, he ensured he was far from prying optics as he recorded a final message and raised his blade for a final time.

Guilt hung in his spark as the void claimed him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as the voice again washed over him.

“You hurt so deeply, my chosen.”

Oh so now the voice pitied him. After sending him through suffering meant for Unicron’s servants, only now did it regard him?

“You did this to me and I don't even know who you are or what you want from me.” He wanted to be angry. By the stars he wanted to rage.

“Oh dear one, we did not mean to cause you such suffering… but one of ours must bear the burden, and you who carried such spirit touched us deeply with your devotion.”

What the frag did that even mean? The voice chose him to endure life after life and seemingly didn’t anticipate that it would hurt? What a joke.

“You make me live again and again in realities that are ever changing and yet still the same. How could it not bring me pain? Why would you make me do this? I watch my people die over and over again and nothing I do seems to bring it to an end.” Grief and anger surged forward in a brief flare of rebellion. Despite that, his wrath died down all but instantaneously. Rage would earn him nothing. Not when the voice apparently commanded his reality.

“Not yet…  we cannot repair what is broken yet. But soon we will succeed. You learn and we grow.”

How ominous the voice was…

“What are you?” He asked yet again, not really expecting an answer.

“All that is and will be.”

----

For the fourth time, Optimus shot awake coughing as lingering pain from his reformat eased out of his tense and tight cables. He fell to his knees as knowledge washed over him once more. This time, however, it did not burn as it had in lives before. Knowledge was quickly filed away and understanding set in as soon as the information did. The Matrix pulsed in soothing waves, the relic finally of use in ways it had otherwise not been in prior lives. 

He was Optimus Prime, formerly Orion Pax the Archivist. He was taken from the wilds while young and raised in Iacon under Alpha Trion where he spent much of his time reviewing history and taking note of corruption. He allied himself with Megatronus of Kaon, the Gladiator. Through their combined might, they eventually developed a bond and reached the High Council. Orion was chosen to be the Prime instead of Megatron, formerly Megatronus. That single decision tore them apart and sent them spiralling into war. Only when it reached its peak had Orion gone to receive the Matrix of leadership from one familiar entity.

Primus. The god of all Cybertronians. He who made them from dust and starlight. The connection between Primus and the voice was an easy one to make, and above all, it made sense. Primus, the all knowing ever patient god of their people was bound to be the entity trying to preserve lives. Why wouldn’t he? Above all, his inexperience made sense. Primus had not even been a concept in his first life, or his second for that matter. There were whispers in his third, but they were distant things.

It seemed the god that had taken him as a champion was finally beginning to change reality in meaningful ways. The story had changed to include their creator and actually make use of the relic that continually gave Optimus back his memory.

A fascinating change indeed. One that had the potential to actually turn out the way Primus intended.

Optimus followed quietly as he was brought to his pedes and returned to base. He knew what path stood before him now. Even still, Ratchet pulling him aside as soon as time allowed surprised him for a moment before memory reminded him of who the medic was.

“Orion… are you still in there?” Ratchet touched his face, feeling his now sharper features and assessing his frame for damage. Optimus smiled, nodding as memory returned to him. Anguish for loves lost still hung in his spark, but more than anything, he felt adoration as it stirred in him. It hurt to have a partner live and vent beside him, but more than that, it healed.

“I am here… moreso now than ever.” Finally, the Matrixdid something useful and toned down the emotional weight of his extended memory. If he’d had this in his prior existence, he might not have ended things so suddenly. Poor Bumblebee likely felt horrible, if he was still online at any rate.

“The Matrix, what has it done to you?” Ratchet's question was sharp, but still tender in his unique way as he looked at Optimus’s chassis accusingly. Optimus fought back laughter that he had not known since his first life.

“Memory, Ratchet. So much memory…” With a smile, Optimus pressed a kiss to Ratchet’s brow, reveling in the closeness of one he held so dear. This was what he needed. Time, composure, and connection. Primus truly was developing.

“I remember loves from lives that were not this one. I recall battles, wars and death so great the bodies coated the earth.” Ratchet held him tighter as Optimus’s field, a new addition to his biology, flared out in sheer relief and joy. For all the sorrows he endured, it all seemed less important when he was with his love, at least for this life.

“I remember the torment of not knowing… and now the grief of revelation.” Ratchet stiffened at his statement, likely running through a thousand grim scenarios in his processor. Optimus saw no need to correct him since it earned him a tighter hug.

“I’m here, Orion. I’m here.” Ratchet, in a rare show of open affection, did his best to soothe. Optimus returned the gesture by resting his chin on his dear doctor’s helm, enjoying the closeness. 

“Of that, I am more thankful than I can properly express… it has been so long.” Ratchet’s field flared in concern as Optimus pulled away to look out the nearest window and out at the stars. Oh how he loved the stars…

“I now understand my design.” Primus did not wish for death. He desired life. 

Lucky for him, Optimus’s memory from his current existence supplied him with countless plans for victory. If all went well, the war would come to a close in short order and he would finally be free of Primus’s grand mission.

However, unfortunately for Optimus’s grand aspirations, the war dragged on despite his knowledge. His newest Megatron was a cunning creature backed by strength and age. His followers were just as intelligent, and no matter what Optimus threw at them, they adapted. His efforts were useless when pitted against such wrath.

As the war went, Optimus felt his chances of success dwindling. By the time they got to Earth with their conflict, he was fairly certain Primus would have him try again. Even still, he managed to salvage the situation. With Ratchet by his side and his team supporting him, restoration was made possible. Optimus was even revived as he had been once in his first life to facilitate the repairs being made to their home. He took that to mean Primus was at least partially pleased with the outcome, even if Megatron was still out there lurking and Unicron cursed.

The people mourned the dead, and Optimus certainly felt weariness in his core. But the war was over, Autobot and Decepticon were coming together, and if all went well, Cybertron was to be fully functional in a few centuries. Was it ideal? No. But there was hope to be found.

“Optimus, are you coming to berth or not?” Ratchet tapped his pede impatiently as Optimus waved Bumblebee off as he set toward Earth for another diplomatic mission. He smiled, content with his situation as he responded.

“In a bit, beloved.” Watching the space bridge close was strangely calming. Millennia of war, and for once, he wasn’t about to die on a battlefield or alone drowning in grief. He’d played his part, even if the loss of life still weighed on him in the dead of night.

“Berth. Now.” Ratchet looked more annoyed than truly upset. Optimus couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the expression his dear doctor was making as he obeyed the given order.

“Very well.” Wrapping an arm around Ratchet’s waist, he guided them both to their habsuite. He settled quietly, pressing a kiss to Ratchet’s audial and watching as his love drifted off for a while. It was peaceful, a blessed relief.

As his optics closed, Optimus smiled. Megatron was still a threat, but he was finally done with his mission-

“I died?” Optimus couldn’t help but gawk as he found himself in the void once more. He tried to think about what happened, but he got the distinct impression his death was not a natural one. What was Ratchet going to think? By the Thirteen, what went wrong?

“It was not intended. But we expected it sooner or later. Your work is not yet done.”

What? Had he not restored Cybertron? It was an imperfect restoration and the war still occurred, but all was as it was meant to be.

“Why did you restore me if I was simply to die and do it all again?” He wasn’t necessarily upset this time. Just… confused. He’d had his moment of peace, but why did Primus see fit to try again? The people were happy, or at least getting there.

“We believed we might salvage what remained. We did, and you fought well.”

Optimus internally sighed. He knew how this was going to go. 

“But we lament the loss of life. We grieve over what could have been. So many children… extinguished so young.”

Primus was a god, but he was, at his core, something above mortality. He had no reason to understand loss like Optimus and the rest did. Of course he grieved. To him it was likely a numbers game.

“I know what you are now, Primus. Why do you continue to strive for this strange perfection? Cybertron was restored. The people were happy. Why have me do it all again?” He tried to express his concerns, but Primus seemed to be displeased as he responded, his voice firmer than before.

“Your other half falls to our counterpart time and time again. Our children are massacred when it is not needed. If it can be prevented, then we wish it so.”

So that was how it was going to be. Perfection, or nothing at all. Optimus could already feel exhaustion settling in.

“Go. Try again. Soon… we will make things right.”

----

Waking was easier this time. The reality Primus made was much like his first, and as such, Optimus knew how to act quickly. He went straight for Megatron, charging in with all his knowledge and experience. He had no love to hold him back and his happier existence prior to his current one eased the grief enough for him to focus. Even still, the war occurred. Megatron seemed to become more intelligent every time they met in a new life. Perhaps it was an equalization factor. Regardless, war came without an end in sight.

At least until Optimus beat Megatron in a duel, earning their people a tentative peace under a Council made up of an Autobot, a Decepticon, and a neutral party. Optimus was fairly certain Primus would not be pleased despite Cybertron largely avoiding complete desolation and chose to isolate himself to keep away from further incidents. He could have ended himself, but he saw no need. He took the time to simply live, helping where he could and keeping Megatron in line when he wasn’t doing that.

He let life pass him by, at least until Windblade arrived, speaking of Titans and war. That was when he knew it was time to act, and he did so without complaint. He didn’t even mind working with Megatron. It was just like old times, like when he and Megatronus talked over revolution matters. Although, much to Optimus’s agitation, his current Megatron was beyond fond of prodding at his emotional weak points.

Despite that, there were times when he enjoyed conversing with the glitch.

“I asked once, in another life, why you did all this.” Optimus stood quietly, watching the stars just as he always did. Megatron huffed as he cleaned his blaster, the only part of his body he seemed to actually give a frag about.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Megatron snarked, his optics never leaving his weapon.

“Why did you rise up? Why did you go to war? You had the whole world before you, and you chose to burn it down.” It was a question Optimus recalled asking his first Megatron, only to get laughed at in response. His second Megatron spoke of corruption, his third was a jealous creature, and his fourth had legitimate reasons for waging war. But his current one and the first? He never really understood, even though they were technically the same mech in many regards.

“Hmm… I would think you would know the answer to this, Prime.” Optimus sighed, expecting laughter.

“Power?”

“To a degree.” Megatron’s response earned a momentary glance from Optimus, his finials twitching in mild surprise.

“I wanted the power to change the world, to mold it in my image.” Megatron, smug as ever, crossed his arms and gestured out to the planet they were now attempting to save from itself. Optimus followed his gaze, but he still found himself questioning.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t like the way things were, or the corruption that set into our society.” Megatron huffed, clearly quite pleased with his answer. Optimus however found himself more contemplative. He knew how to see corruption after so many lives, but he still wondered…

How much had he missed?

“Was that corruption always there?” He pondered aloud, more to himself than the mech next to him as he ran through ancient memory. It was blurry now. Distant and no longer as applicable.

“Of course it was. You were just so lost in your little dock worker world that you couldn’t see it.” Megatron, either not knowing the question was not aimed at him or not caring, responded with a huff. He gestured to Optimus in a dismissive manner, and that was enough for Optimus to think back on his life, back to Elita.

Their lives were simple. Of course they failed to see corruption.

“You fought for freedom?” Optimus wondered more and more if they were truly the same mech given different paths to walk. Megatronus was similar to Orion Pax in many ways. Was that simply an aspect of his and Megatron’s relationship?

“In a sense. I wanted every mech to be able to choose their future for themselves.” That was very Megatronus of him. It seemed it was not only Primus who was learning.

“Then why were we fighting at all?” Optimus took the chance to step a little closer, remembering nights spent with his Lord High Protector in his third life. He missed his brother, even if the glitch was a pain in the aft.

“Because you were a fraggin pacifist and a weepy newbuild until I beat some sense into you. By then your Autobots were dead set on the destruction of my Decepticons.” Megatron punched him in the shoulder. Optimus simply sighed. He’d forgotten how much of a brute his first life’s Megatron could be when not otherwise engaged.

“For what it’s worth, I apologize for how our war ended. I wanted to end the needless death.” His attempt at apologizing was met with laughter, a mirror to his end lifetimes ago.

“And instead you brought more. How comical.” Megatron slapped his back in what could have been a friendly manner if not for the force behind it. Optimus internally cringed, but allowed it. How familiar this all was.

“You are the worst.” His comment was met with even more laughter, to which Optimus simply walked away.

When the time came for him to die for his people, Optimus took the burden without complaint. He was done anyway.

And just as predicted, Primus met him once more.

“You did better this time. But still not enough. Too many died. Too many children lost to war.”

Optimus didn’t even have the energy to be surprised.

“You seek the impossible, Primus. No matter what you do to me or how you reforge reality, war is inevitable.” Attempting reason was likely impossible, but Optimus gave it his best shot. Perfection was impossible, but here Primus was, trying anyway. Granted, if anyone was to aim for such a thing, it was only really plausible for a god to pursue such a goal.

“Not so. We will make it right.”

But at what price?

“I remember too late to change things if I have a relationship with Megatron. And if I do not, I hold no sway over him.” Again, Optimus put forward his objections. Anyone from his prior lives would have likely gawked at him, save for perhaps Ratchet, his ever faithful atheist.

“We know. We are learning. Soon, all will be as it should be.”

That much Optimus could attest to. It was already far easier to operate than it had been the first few times. Still, he didn’t want to do this forever. He’d had moments of peace and he wanted them back.

“I’m tired. I want to return to those I have loved. Elita, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet… I miss them. I miss the versions of them I adored.” He sensed waves of understanding from his god, but Primus spoke all the same.

“We will give them all to you when the work is done.”

That was a pleasant promise, if nothing else.

“Stop the war. Stop the death. Stop your counterpart from falling. That is your design.”

----

Another life, another awakening. Optimus tried his best, especially since reality was again similar to his first life. But guiding and succeeding were two very different things, and war seemed to be inevitable. He wasn’t able to put a stop to it, so he simply resolved to observe as Bumblebee and Windblade worked. He did offer his assistance when the Quintessons came and the Tarn from another time popped out of the void, but more often he preferred to watch. Especially since he got humorous commentary from Megatron when they weren’t at each other’s throats.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… why is it that you’re always so-” Megatron, between sips of his drink, gestured vaguely to Optimus’s form. Optimus chuckled, leaning back in his seat a bit as he and Megatron sat observing the city. It was still on fire in places, but it wasn’t exactly their problem. They tended to cause more trouble when they did anything outside of combat.

“Aloof? Uncaring? I don’t know how to describe it.” Megatron tried to find the words for his question. Optimus politely did not interrupt as he nursed his energon, content to be since he knew his current life was a failure anyway.

“You always preach your talking points about freedom and all that, but I never see any drive in you. It’s boiled my energon since the war began.” His once foe huffed into his drink, seemingly annoyed. Optimus saw through it easily, noting the genuine curiosity there. They both had secrets, but Megatron was never one to leave them alone.

“Because for me, there is no point in passion. I failed in my only purpose long before I took the Matrix.” Optimus, having long since grown apathetic to anything and everything related to his continual existence, shrugged. “What in the Allspark are you talking about?” Megatron made a face that was worthy of the human ‘memes’. Optimus fought to keep his composure as he tried to keep it serious and failed, at least in part. He was unable to keep from smiling, despite the situation.

“I have loved and lost, Megatron. I have done all I could to try and prevent war… but I always arrive too late to change things.” Taking the chance to chug his glass, Optimus sighed in contentment. Warm energon really was the best. Living so long, one learned to appreciate the little things.

“You… what are you?” Optimus raised an optical ridge in mild surprise as he looked up at his former rival. Megatron was glaring at him, not necessarily in anger, but suspicion. 

“You sense it?” 

“I always knew there was something off with you. So spit it out, what are you? What happened to Orion Pax?” Well that was an odd way to phrase the question, but who was Optimus to judge. The Archivist in him probably would have asked something similar.

“He is me and I am him. Except one of us is wiser. One of us remembers realities that have long ended.” Keeping the answer as simple as he could without giving Megatron an existential crisis, Optimus put down his now empty cube and casually checked his HUD for anything important before continuing.

“One of us cannot rest until we prevent the Great War.” That was about the best way he had to describe it. Until he remembered, he was just an idealistic fool with far too much ambition.

“Unmaker cursed?” Megatron, with all the subtlety of a Titan in a city, squinted as he made his accusation only barely veiled as a question.

“No, the opposite.” Taking it in stride, Optimus kept his answer simple.

“Slag… that’s worse.” That was putting it lightly. At least he understood.

“I can know no rest until I stop the war before it can start… and keep you from falling to the Unmaker’s touch.” Optimus gave Megatron a look without really meaning to. It was more of a sidequest at this point in his long life, but he was getting tired of having to divert Megatron away from drugs or other less than pleasant curses.

“Why would I-?”

“Other versions of yourself were desperate. Far more desperate… they needed strength and knowledge, so they sought it where they could.” Instantly, Optimus thought back to his fourth Megatron. That mech was a monster in many ways, especially when high as a kite on the Unmaker’s blood.

“Have you told anyone else about this?” Megatron, with a surprising amount of concern evident in his tone, crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. Optimus regarded him quietly for a moment, unsure if he should respond. However, after a klik, he concluded there was no harm in it.

“No. Even if they believed me, there is no stopping it. When I die, Primus shall restore me to life in another time and place to attempt to stop the war… to stop you.” Saying it out loud was… rather depressing. The air grew heavier in response, and Optimus almost regretted opening his mouth. 

“Sounds lonely.” And then Megatron came out of nowhere with a strange amount of sympathy.

“It is. But I take comfort in lives like these… ones that are lighter on my spark.” Trying to stay positive and not think hard on the grimness of his situation, Optimus smiled. Megatron didn’t seem to buy it, but played into it anyway.

“How about you tell me about the other versions of me out there. Get it off your chassis for a while, eh?” Bless him, he was kinder than the rest.

Life went on after that, with things changing and Cybertron being saved a few times. Eventually, Optimus got tired of it all and let an assassin get to him. But his return to the void created a whole new set of problems.

“You did not use this life wisely.”

And there came the disappointment.

“You sent me too late. I cannot work with nothing.” Too tired to be upset, Optimus mentally projected a shrug. He wasn’t sure if it went through, but he hoped it did if only for his amusement.

“It is your duty to do this work. We give you wisdom and opportunity. Why do you struggle so?”

Oh to be a god and not understand mortality.

“I share next to nothing in common with Megatron. I cannot stop a war if I cannot relate to its leader. I certainly can’t kill him when we are always near equal in strength. We are too different… and even with knowledge, it means nothing if I can’t make him see reason.” Optimus expected exactly nothing from his attempt at reason, but to his surprise, Primus paused. Things went quiet for a while, long enough that he momentarily wondered if his god had up and chosen a new champion. Then, Primus’s voice returned with renewed energy.

“We have never rewritten the world in such a way. Your counterpart was always meant to be so. Different, unique.”

By the thirteen, he’d managed to make Primus see some reason.

“We can come from the same roots and still have a chance to be different. Please, if you want this war to end before it can start, you must put me with him when we begin. I need time.” Internally crossing his digits, knocking on the organic substance of wood, and praying to every version of the thirteen he knew of, Optimus threw out his request.

“Then it shall be so. We have eternity to complete this work.”

Fraggin yes.

----

Waking was no longer a stressful thing. Optimus came into being, knew he was fragged, and waged war as usual. The shared origins helped, and he did his best to make the most of it, but Primus was a fickle being on a good cycle, and Optimus knew this was a test run more than anything else. Being a miner had sucked, but it gave him and Megatron connection that finally manifested itself vorns upon vorns later on Earth when, in a grand middle finger to every other Megatron, Optimus managed to convince his foe to side with him.

It was brilliant, and for the first time in forever, Optimus was outwardly joking and having a fantastic time as he waited for the end. Sure, he probably could have been doing more, but he didn’t feel the need to. He’d tested his theory. Shared origins were perfect. Now he just needed to get the Matrix and his memory at a better time.

Until he kicked the can, he was more than happy to watch as Primus’s newest additions to reality bounded and played, goofing off with their human family. Optimus personally found it odd and wouldn’t have made the choice himself if he were Primus, but it wasn’t exactly his problem. Wait, watch, observe, step in if need be, and wait to try again.

But of course, waiting was boring without company, and it had been many vorns since he’d taken a lover of any variety. He considered Elita, but his version was too different from the one he knew from his first life to really sit well with him. Instead he went for a thrill in Starscream of all mecha.

Quite frankly he enjoyed the wild card attitude, especially when they were attempting to be domestic.

“I don’t think I’m going to have to fight for much longer.” Optimus remarked as he fiddled with his ration. He almost wanted to poke holes in it for fun, but the older and more bitter aspects of his personality shut that idea down quickly.

“Oh really?” Starscream snarked from across the table, likely thinking about their current affairs. Optimus smiled fondly as he pulled out his favorite tactic to mess with mecha aside from using human tech incorrectly for fun.

“You will not understand… but Primus has learned. He’s setting the pieces right. Soon I expect he will give me the proper setting to do as he desires.” Letting his voice drop an octave, Optimus leaned into the ominousness of his time as the archivist. Starscream was unimpressed and threw a spoon at him.

“Stop talking like you are right out of the fragging Covenant. What are you trying to say?” Ah, Starscream was so refreshing.

“It may not be in this life or the next, but sometime in the near future, there will be no war.” Optimus lost a bit of his jesting attitude as he fiddled further with his ration. So many lives lived in rage and confusion… soon it would all be over. How strange that feeling was.

“Sure Optimus. Keep dreaming and using your emojis.” Starscream rolled his optics and chugged his drink before sauntering over in a familiar demand for intimacy, one which normally began with threats of violence.

“Now are you going to eat that or should I?” Optimus smiled, letting Starscream drape himself over his shoulders like a makeshift cape. Things could be worse.

He just had to wait.

And wait he did, until the time came for him to give his life to open the space bridge back to Cybertron. It was an easy choice to make, and Optimus went with a cheery whistle.

“Almost. My design improves once more.” 

Primus’s voice was more composed than it had been. His intentions seemed clearer, his emotions less out of sorts.

“So you are singular now?” Optimus noted the change in interest. Primus had gone through some changes, and so had he it seemed.

“I have grown, my chosen. Through your optics I have seen, and with your aid, I now know what I must do.”

So it had all been worth it. That was… relieving. The memories of toil and struggle from his first few lives eased dramatically in the back of his mind as Optimus considered. If Primus had things right… then he would soon rest.

“You promised me my loved ones. Will I have them this time?” It was hopeful and presumptuous, but he had to ask.

“Yes. The world is changed once more, and now all is as it should be. Act swiftly, my chosen. For the time to end this great war is upon us.”

Optimus’s spark flared in sheer determination as the first real confirmation of anything he’d had since his mission began. This was his chance then. No more waiting. No more wars. No more long agonizing realities where all he had to do aside from suffer was perish.

“When my work is done, do I have to remember all of this suffering? All the pain I have endured?” Part of him didn’t want to forget the few moments of joy he’d experienced, especially in his time as the archivist and onward. But the rest of him was tired. So very tired. He laughed and joked in recent lives, but that was more to cope.

He was done with all of this.

“No. Once the threat has been averted, I shall take from you the torment you have endured for the sake of my progression.”

At least Primus was kind enough to offer him that much for his service.

“Will I see you again?” He doubted he’d miss the mission or the void, but there was a certain comfort in Primus’s presence. He did not wish to simply cease being at the end of it all. 

“My chosen, I have always been with you. That shall never change.”

Worries he had not known eased into nothing and Optimus found himself calm as the cycle he’d first been forged. Everything was going to be alright now.

“My thirteenth Prime… my chosen champion… go now and complete this great work.”

Primus’s voice washed over him, firm and adoring as the void faded.

“You have served me long enough.”

----

Wakefulness came in a flash, and it settled quickly. Optimus shot toward the surface, fueled by Primus’s intervention and the Matrix’s power. When he landed, he locked optics with the one mech who mattered most for the sake of his success. Megatron, his eternal foe and rival.

They clashed, but wisdom guided Optimus to victory. As Megatron fell to his knees in defeat, Optimus was quick to pull him up and into a hug. Memory from his current life urged him on, encouraging him to hold his closest companion tight. D-16 was a kind spark, and he did not deserve a life of violence.

“You’ve done enough. I’m sorry I could not stand with you when you needed me most.” The mech in his arms tensed, rage etched onto his features as he pulled away, albeit with reluctance.

“How could you? How could you defend him?!” Megatron shook, gesturing toward where Sentinel’s body lay. Optimus was unphased. He’d seen far worse versions of D-16. He knew that the mech before him still had a chance.

“I was scared for you, Dee. I do not wish to fight you. Please, don’t make me.” The words came easily, emotions of all his lives imbuing his every glyph with honesty. Never once had he wanted war, and that fact had not changed.

“You betrayed me.” Megatron bristled, clutching at his damaged arm. Optimus took the chance to step forward, reaching out with all the kindness he could muster. This mech, his Dee, was just a scared newbuild. He’d been exposed to too much all at once.

He needed rest and support.

Those things Optimus could offer him.

“Perhaps I did… but no others need to suffer because of the sins of our ancestors. Let it end here, with us.” He hesitated a moment, considering if this was going to be the moment he messed it all up. Would he have to live again? Another life in another reality? What would Primus think of him if he failed here? Would he be alone?

A thousand thoughts raged, but ultimately, Optimus found the will to grasp Megatron’s servo firmly, but not so much as to be seen as a threat. It was a symbol of peace, one he hoped his companion saw.

“Let us stand together as one.” More hesitation, this time from Megatron. But as Optimus watched, he saw how those vicious red optics eased into orange, then back to a calm yellow. Silence followed as D-16 considered. Optimus could almost feel the whole world weighing on him as he waited with a baited vent.

Then, blessedly, D-16 squeezed his servo back.

“We will talk.” Sheer joy flooded Optimus’s spark as lives upon lives of relief washed over him. In his excitement, he drew D-16 in for another hug, clutching at him almost desperately. Finally, finally, he was going to be free.

“Thank you.” Releasing his hold after a moment, Optimus smiled as he had not in eons and parted his chassis plating so that the Matrix shone clearly. D-16 regarded him suspiciously until Optimus took the Matrix in his servo and grabbed D-16 with the other. Guiding his brother in arms to grasp the ancient relic, Optimus raised both their arms to the skies, a symbol he hoped conveyed unity.

The masses watched in awe, the High Guard stalling in their attacks. In that brief moment, Optimus sensed confirmation from deep within his being. Locks began to settle into place. Memories dimmed.

“You have done well, my chosen.”

At last, his mission was complete.

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian fem reader & other characters.

#TAGS: trauma. talks of character death. hopelessness? mentions of prostitution. no appearance of canon characters because this is an intro. hunger games reference!

#NOTES: hi! still alive, just not writing for kny atm because my head is like a powerpoint presentation with all my hyperfixations and i can't write for requests when it is on another slide. hope that makes sense. this is the first chapter of my megatron x reader, a strangers to lovers to enemies featuring pre-war cybertron, a magnanimous amount of lore, a lot of non-cannon stuff like sparklings and stuff because i can do whatever i want, and my flickering motivation to finish it. i don't have a specific transformers i'm basing the timeline off, so we will see. i thought of publishing it on ao3 or smth but i have better judgement so i just figured i would upload the first chapter on tumblr. the new transformers movie was soooo good and it inadvertently rekindled my transformers obsession. enjoy? let me know if you like it, i would appreciate it if you have questions or anything :) THIS BITCH IS LONG SO BEWARE

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

"Y/N, my optics hurt."

"I know, sweetspark, I know."

This place reeked. Pure flowing smoke and vapor, stinking energon, and the smell of the gray coal and ash that powdered the laborers' and miners' bodies like scintillating glitter filled the pavements of that day—such fragrant poetry. 

The barely perceivable light that shone down could not even be called proper illumination in the first place. Every once in a while, the wells of your optics danced up to gaze toward where the sweltering sunlight was supposed to be.

Still, your spark did nothing but wail at you when, each time, all that you caught were mountains upon mountains of pitch-dark vapor, dull particles of dust from the mines, and the visualization of the austere whispers of despair and anguish among the workers of one of the mining towns from one of Cybertron's Primus-forsaken satellites, Nuna 5PY.

Even if you turned to look towards the downtown streets, the particles infiltrated your vents and blistered your optics.

Some workers used gas masks, while others retreated to the mines, where the synthetic stench wasn't as foul, but most were forced to return to work. They snatched up energon everywhere they could, recharged in fits and starts among their screaming. You seriously needed to leave.

As Vaportrail coughed onto the city street, you held her small servo. Even with the torrential acid pouring last night, the smog got to her well before the rush hour. 

You realized things would not improve today, so you hurried in fear of the younger developing tear-streaked optics and a headache to match. It saddened you that Vaportrail would never know what a normal life would be like. It was as though they had collectively given up years before she was born, which was unjust to her and all the future sparklings. 

You grabbed her and pulled her into the cart. Traveling was enjoyable, but not at the price of introducing additional hazardous particles into the environment. 

Mining Outpost R–02 was one of the towns from Nuna 5PY, where unnamed members of the lower classes labored interminably, tediously. The gloomy, smoky shambles of a metropolis required the Communication Grid to communicate with other areas and locations simply. It was no place for a sparkling. 

The infant cybertronian lay quietly on the sulfurous mine carriage attached to the railway, more vulnerable than the glass that was painstakingly constructed for the masses of the High-caste buildings and just as giddily colored.

You wondered if her peds are dirty; how would you know? You pondered what she ate back when Starlight was still living in this downtown slum; where did her mother get energon to nourish her? 

Your servos were callous from several scars and defects, and a part of you ached to sweep her up in her arms and shelter her eternally. But. How could you ever live with yourself if you didn't allow such an innocent being to live a tranquil life?

"I'm sorry about your carrier," You told the sparkling wistfully, making sure she was comfortable for the long ride from here to where your late best friend wanted her youngling to go if something ever happened to her. You gave her a small pad which contained personal information like her name and situation, along with a plead for somebot to take her to safety, "Cybertropolis is a nice place, just make sure you reach the police station safely, they'll know where to take you." 

"Thank you," Vaportrail squeaked out, her knees pulled up to her chest plate. 

The train inevitably started, and you walked in tandem with the slow speed of the carriage just to get a good, final look at the sparkling's dainty, cheerless face. Vaportrail would surely be a problem when she got older because all of the mechs would swoon over her—deservingly so.

With those optics and a grin as charming and gauzy as that, she was the very picture of the youthful beauty who had once bored the name of Starlight. You believed she was the sweetest femmeling on the planet.

"I love you, okay? And I'm sure your carrier is so proud of you. Good luck!"

Eventually, you had to withdraw from the train, which only allowed you to stare at the vanishing small frame of a waving Vaportrail, whose response had been forever lost in the sad, sepulchral winds of the town. 

Despite that, you could still stare at the sparkling's naive, callow features and find colossal gratitude and admiration in its place, which made a lump form in your voicebox and squeezing palpation beat inside your spark chamber.

With Vaportrail gone, the smell of blazing smoke burned your olfactory sensors and induced you to cover them with your suitable servo. You had never before realized that the shrilling blare of the injectors, the drills, the massive excavators, and the wheels of the trucks could be so overwhelmingly loud, either. From the corner of your optics, the flashes and instants of the sparks that aimlessly flew around whenever metal met metal brought you out of your bewildered daydream. 

But then you turned and saw the portrait of shattered ambition, lost hope, undetermined origins, opaque bitterness, damaged honor, futile dreams, and wavering will that assembled the cybertronians of Nuna 5PY.

It was a blow to the back of your head.

Starlight was dead.

If you closed your optics, you could still see the glow on her metallurgical protoform, the spark that no longer burned, and the sound of her laughter that still reverberated in your audio receptors and processor.

Oh, you missed her desperately. 

She'd spent her days as a young and daring cybertronian who didn't let the vacillating shame of her prostitution career ridicule her or anything she was. A good, pleasant, and kind femme that thrived and existed, only for some mech to tear her from her home and forever close her laughing optics. She was a femme, a friend, a sister, and a carrier.

She was someone.

"Oi, femme!"

You knew that whoever was calling that word in such a degrading manner was referring to you and you only. You were aware that you were one of the few femmes working on that hellhole.

Sourly, you turned your helm to the source of the voicebox and found your boss—if he could even be called that—staring at you rigorously from across the street. Other mechs were beside him, and in their hungry optics, you could see hunger, amusement, a blatant lack of respect, and other things—all of it for you.

"You said five minutes. Start moving your aft before I tell someone to move it for you."

The group of despicable mechs started laughing at the humorous, unique, spectacular, utterly not-ever-done-before knee-slapper comment. You wondered what comedians told to get a chuckle or two out of their audience nowadays. 

You detested yourself when you started walking back to the mines with crystal-clear coolant forming in your optics and with the words caught inside your voicebox.

Even the clicking of your battered timer had a languid touch in the fading light of their (your) chamber as if it were a spark-beat at rest. The perpetual rhythm of it became more of a white noise inside the transparent yet spurious safety surrounding your beguiling, chimerical space bubble. 

The memory of the lingering perfume of Starlight's aromatic utensils saturated you far more intensely than it did only days before, making you want to pound and bang your head against the wall until you ran out of energon inside your body.

Your spark chamber was wrenched apart in the core by a hollow cavity. It had been there for forty-eight groons. Faithless and cynical, the pit that took form inside of you pulled you to the very depths of your revolted mind.

You were immobile, your bare servos lying at your sides and your digits tinkering with the berth. Everything within the room drove you crazy and made you want to tear out your optics under the scrutinizing, deep-rooted omnipresence of both the carrier and the sparkling.

Vaportrail was not napping on her carrier's bed; her small chest plating was not rising and falling according to her mellow, smooth breathing. You remembered how she would spring from Starlight's berth just to greet you after every single burdensome solar cycle of nothing but suffering under the cruel comments and sometimes spiteful actions of mechs and their superiors. 

You knew and understood that she left for a better life in Cybertropolis, yet you just can't comprehend why you are not hearing her dulcet giggles and her voice as soft as a feather.

"Y/N, look at me!"

You turned your helm lightly toward the soft-spoken sparkling from your spot on your berth. 

One of your stabilizers was crossed over the other, your servos snuggly behind your helm. Due to your horizontal position, you were seeing Vaportrail in a somewhat awkward manner, whispering something to her carrier excitedly, which made you turn your whole frame so you were resting against your side, lifting your helm with your right servo.

"What is it, V?"

Vaportrail, who had her mother's laughing optics, stood proudly atop Starlight's berth beside her laying figure, servos on her hips and grin on her dermas, meekly waiting for you to look at her so she could show her spectacular stunt.

She was no bigger than a mining pickaxe, which is why she was never let out of Starlight's and your’s shared chamber. She was still tiny, even for a youngling her age, but that was not unusual, as the impoverished environment and the mediocre energon didn't do much to help anyway. Primus knows what could happen to someone so small and so weak.

Her confident, puffed-up stand made you laugh casually, as while typically Vaportrail was a modest sparkling, never one to demand attention or directly ask for what she wanted, whenever she got like this and let out her inner childishness for the silliest of things, both you and Starlight would get tons of laughter out of it.

"Go on! Show Y/N what you've been practicing," Starlight encouraged.

When you nodded at Vaportrail, signaling that your attention was entirely on her, her optics lit up. She walked towards the end of her carrier's berth, planting her peds at the very ends before turning around. 

Vaportrail crouched, and with a slight push from her servos and an impulse from her peds, she successfully rolled forward in the berth, landing on her bottom before scrambling to get up and putting her servos up in the air, muttering a small 'Ta-da!'

You had smiled warmly, watching Vaportrail giggle to herself giddily. Starlight clapped for her and swarmed her in a big hug, proud of her sparkling and happy that she had gotten her little trick right. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. You wished you could be this happy by doing something as simple as a gymnastic maneuver.

Vaportrail cheered along with her carrier, excitedly thumping her peds against the surface of the berth. Then she turned to look at you, her optics gleaming with happiness. "I did it! I did a forward roll!"

"Oh, did you?" After your rhetorical question, you languidly returned to your original position, lying with your back plates on the berth and your servos behind your helm. You cheekily turned to Vaportrail and Starlight, a sly, good-natured smile pulling at your dermas; you closed your optics. "I wasn't looking."

"Y/N!"

Both femmes happily laughed at the moping undertones of Vaportrail's voice.

"Just kidding!"

That day was a long time ago, at least it seemed to be; it felt like it. Those words were spoken in the same chamber you slept and resided in. That comical stunt was performed in the berth across from yours. They were not here anymore. Even if you wished they were back together, that deceitful dream would only be achieved by death.

No one can pursue their dreams or be free enough without it. Freedom is for the rich because dreaming costs money.

Starlight wasn't there to hold her youngling and hug you when you needed it. You weren't hearing her voice either, singing lullabies to help you both fall into a much-needed recharge. Her presence was so needed, so sought; in places like this, femmes like her were what one needed to forget about the harsh burden that was the act of being alive. To think that only forty-eight groons before she was still living, she was still here. 

Her memory made you miserable because best friends comprehend you like no other. Starlight was overly protective and brutally honest—as if she ever needed that. You felt so enraged and resentful at not being there to protect her that you feared you might break. 

Although you dug Starlight's grave, blatantly refusing to let the body of your best friend turn into waste parts or scrap metal, a part of you still suppressed the image. One day, you would properly weep for her, but first, you had to accept that she was truly gone. A part of you would never be able to accept that Starlight would never appear, skipping around a corner to tease you for falling for her clever joke.

‘How can she be dead?’

Harsh knocks against your metal door made you jerk from your position on the berth.

"08, are you in there?!" 

The boisterous tone of the mech standing behind your door made you remember that you were still real and breathing inside your crude, undeserving, unworthy existence. Your bubble-turned crystal cocoon inevitably started collapsing at the reminder that life could still go on without Starlight because, after all, no cybertronian knew who Starlight is—was. No cybertronian knew who Starlight was. The world moved on without her.

Without thinking much, you got up from the cold berth, chills flourishing in your metallurgic skin before walking the small distance towards the oxidized door and swinging it open. You would not have considered the thought of opening (being too engrossed in your self-pity and wallowing in grief, you know?) in the first place was it not for the genuine undertones of chipper motivation that were painted over H–01's usually harsh, asperous voice. 

Wait, why was he at your door anyway?

His hulking, rusted frame was as corroded as ever, and it was honestly a little sickening to look at. Despite the awful veil of dust and ash that littered him, the grayish, crimson, and dull turquoise glares of his deteriorated paint job could still be peeked at; his wheels were decaying, and his melancholic optics had lost their love for life— as had everybot else's.

Ancient as a cosmic star and twice as intelligent, with his towering structure and terse personality, H–01 was by far one of the town's most elderly seniors—and, may you add, one of the most cordial. 

You remembered the day you first arrived here, back when you were still an inexperienced femme in life, gullible, back when you dreamed dreams. 

After an accident in your old work establishment,—one of the mech coworkers had stepped over the line with you, resulting in a mining pickaxe protruding from his knee plate and a lot of energon spilled around— you had been sent to Mining Outpost R–02, and H–01 quickly took it upon himself to become a mentor of some sort as you shared letter unit. 

You recalled that he laughed as he had never before when you told him the story of why they had banned you from your previous workplace. Later, you met Starli—

"08?"

You blinked owlishly, and realizing that he was calling out to you, you grounded yourself and met his preoccupied gaze.

"What did you need?"

He frowned at your mediocre attempt at lying. H–01 was by no means stupid, and sadly, you didn’t give enough credit and didn't acknowledge how easily he could pick apart your facade, layer by layer, until your shell was utterly ripped apart.

"Kid, I may be rusty, but I'm shrewd enough to know that you're not well." You became conscious of how absurd you must have seemed in his words. He continued. "I'm sorry about your friend and her sparkling."

There it was again, that funny feeling, that blow to the back of your head. You felt your spark wail painfully, and your limbs tensed up, your optics frantically searching into H–01's face plates for any sign of mockery. You found none. You almost crumbled at his sincere words until your response was unwillingly driven back to your tanks when the piercing siren started blasting across the halls of the chambers.

Instinctively, you covered your audio receptors at the discomfort. At the same time, H–01 merely stared into the speaker device right up against the wall, a bit far away from them. From the corner of his optics, he saw many of the workers exiting their chambers, each of them confused, some of them covering their audial receptors as well, and others staring, irritated and visibly vexed at the gadget that was currently stripping them of their much-needed recharging hours.

The workers of the 8th unit, otherwise known as the H unit, approached the oldest mech from their division, questioning themselves about what was going on. Their optics wilted, and there was a slight lolling to their helms, drunk with weariness after a session of an endless cycle of mining.

"01, what's going on?" One of them asked rather loudly, trying to shout over the siren, coming up to them just as you got used to the loud siren and pulled your servos away from your audial receptors. 

You moved out of the entrance of your chamber to shut the door behind you, joining H–01 by standing beside him. They shared a brief glance, one filled with puzzlement, the other brimming with uncertainty. But before anyone could share their answer or even make a single move, the horrendous blaring of the alarm stopped. 

The speaker against the wall went completely silent, and a single red light started beeping. The Cybertronians looked at each other, baffled.

Someone talked via the speaker.

:: Attention, all workers. You are summoned to the patio at this instant. Once you reach the area, stand in your respective branch line and don't question your current predicament; ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining. I repeat: ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining ::

I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

That was what you were thinking when you, H–01, and the others walked among the congregation of cybertronians—you would have said mechs were it not for the few femme 'nurses' among the outer lines of the crowds, who as far as you were concerned, were the ones who took care of the workers who suffered minor accidents like infected optics, fractured limbs or something along those lines. 

It was not like they counted anyway. Primus knew what they were actually in this town for and what they did to survive.

The patio, used for Cybertronians during their spare time, was circular, wide of range, and littered with damaged devices and compartment containers, a whole mess of passed-down gear and materials. 

Whenever they got their energon rations and stopped here to rest, H–01 would remark that only the fuel granted to them wasn't recycled—well, that and the smoke. The patio boulders formed a patchwork, with stones obtained as useless scraps and waste from renovations resting together as lovely as crystalline statues from the High-caste buildings. It had artistry to it, as well as smoothness. You and H–01 used to sit there together.

You saw the executives of Mining Outpost R–02, violently shove some of the workers towards their specific department, yelling something at them that you couldn't quite catch. Considering the calm and easy-going attitude of the mistreated miners, you could just tell that they were the prissy, fastidious mechs of the upper divisions, maybe the 1st or the 2nd, where they didn't get punished for slacking off or harassing other workers along with the bosses just for the fun of it.

Your unit quickly got on its respective branches and neatly stood in line. You all exchanged terse nods, mentally preparing yourselves for whatever was about to happen. 

In front of you and the rest of your division were the mechs of the 7th unit, and behind them were the workers of the 9th, and so on. Judging by the others' facial expressions, they, too had no idea of why they'd been called here nor could muster up a word, which only fueled your desire to learn what was going on. The patio got tighter, more claustrophobic as cybertronians arrived.

You were the last number in your unit, meaning that you were placed in the furthest spot from your old friend. You lightly reclined your helm backward to attempt and catch a glimpse of H–01, but to no success, as you saw him and all the other mechs, for that matter, focused on the temporary stage ahead of them. 

It held a podium, a small staircase, and fifteen glass balls with electronic chips on them. One for each unit of the Mining Outpost. A chill went down your spinal plate at the thought.

An overwhelming, ominous silence suddenly governed the patio when a mech no one working here had ever seen before climbed up the staircase. The way he moved caused cybertronians to stare at him in fear. 

The mech was brawny and towering, and the way his helm fell over his lifeless, devoid optics and left shadows smeared on his cheek plates made others shudder. He was directly in front of the plain, pitiful microphone stand. However, an almost charming smile crossed his dermas.

"I suppose you're asking yourselves why were you brought in here."

Because of the microphone, his voice, profound and with a baritone tone, boomed across the patio, making you wince lightly at its loudness. You, of course, were desensitized from loud noises due to the continuous straining sounds of the mining machines around you day after day, as everyone else was. However, his statement caused many cybertronians to look among themselves, clearly disturbed.

"Gentlemechs, my name is Bullway, and I've come all the way here from Kaon to offer you a choice. I intend to give fifteen of you the chance of coming to Kaon with me and becoming gladiators."

Hushed whispers and inaudible sentences started falling from everyone's dermas at Bullway's words and what they implied. From the corner of your optics, you saw most of the mechs look at each other in mute amazement at what they had just been offered.

Their superiors, who were at the base of the set-up podium, quickly took it upon themselves to silence everyone with a loud yell, the absence of sound appearing once again.

"Think about it! Money, power, glory, fame, all laid at your digitprints!" Bullway threw his arms out to emphasize his words. "Join me, and all you have ever dreamed of will come true. A life of nothing but recognition! Isn't that what you deserve?! Isn't that what you dream of as you stare at the ceilings of your measly stations?!"

Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money.

Almost as if he had read your mind, H–01 subtly leaned his helm forward to take a peek at the workers of the section he conducted. Most of them remained stoic, and he was very glad to see that, but what worried him the most right now was H–08.

His facial plates morphed into that of slight disturbance because as he peered into your face, he clearly saw what could only be described as contemplation, doubt, and consideration, which both bothered and worried him.

Bullway smiled at how he had you under a forged delusion and continued his speech, "See the crystal globes here? There's one for each unit of your Mining Outpost. They all contain chips with your respective electronic signatures. Each vorn you have worked here, your signature will be entered an additional time. You can figure out the rest, so let us begin!"

Each vorn?

You suddenly realized that the globes were not in order because, in the same minute that you let the circumstances sink in, Bullway had already slipped a servo inside one of the spheres and grabbed one chip from it, reading it aloud so everyone could hear the letter and number clearly.

"G–10!"

All of the divisions started looking among each other, searching for the (not) lucky mech, a pregnant silence following suit as the group in front of them all glared sympathetically at the chosen one, who stood frozen in place, optics blinking several times, wishing to Primus that Bullway had read the designation incorrectly and it wasn't him who was just chosen.

You felt a shiver run down your spinal plate when one of the guards roughly seized his shoulder and made him start walking toward the platform, ignoring the mech's begging and lightly dragging him across the patio as everyone stared in horror. Your intake suddenly went dry when Bullway moved to the next globe, grabbed an electronic chip, moved to the microphone again, and read it aloud.

This time it was from the upper divisions, A–07, you heard.

Just like that, another mech was whisked away from his branch line and thrown across the patio. He then ascended the flight of stairs to stand beside G–10, who apparently was still encapsulated in deep denial, continuously shaking his helm in disbelief. It was tenaciously obvious that Bullway did not concern himself with their worries and imminent fear as he once again moved toward a globe and grabbed another.

You wished cybertronians would step outside their own frames and oversee from the outside what was actually happening at that very instant in Nuna 5PY. Plucked from their workstations like flowers in a garden, sent off to Kaon for the purpose of entertainment for the Upper class with the bombastic excuse of 'MONEY POWER GLORY' behind it.

Prisoners inside their own bodies, trapped to fend off for themselves on a planet where no one cared about them.

Electronic signatures continued rolling off the mech's glossa like energon from a wishing well. The mechs that were chosen always did the exact same thing. They stood completely aghast for a few nanokliks, staring at the soot-stained ground in front of them in absolute shock, their frames deflating like rubber balloons, dermas parting in awe at themselves because they just couldn’t believe it.

F–03.

I–11.

D–04.

E–07.

K–15.

O–02.

When they got prodded by one of the guards, they stared at them, silently begging for compassion, but they found none. Eventually, they were pulled out of their place and shoved towards the staircase on the stage, where Bullway gleefully welcomed all the newcomer 'gladiators' just to grab another electronic chip and call out yet another designation, and so repeating the cycle.

C–01.

M–06.

B–09.

L–01.

J–02.

N–14.

Oh, there was still a globe left. The H unit.

The crowd drew in a collective breath, and then you could hear a pin drop. You were feeling nauseous, your servos clammy, your whole frame tense, your processor hurt, and your spark ached. You longed to see Starlight, you wanted to chase after the train where you sent Vaportrail off to Cyberpolis, and you didn’t know how much H–01 was desperately hoping that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you.

"And the last one! H–08!"

[pompadourrguy]

❕ This post contains spoilers for Transformers: ONE.

Transformers ONE edit

⤷ Plastique Noir - Catedrais em Chamas

This song matches with D-16 / Megatron's vision of everything that happened during the movie, including his relationship with Orion, Sentinel's betrayal, the new upcoming Cybertron in war era and the consequences of everyone's actions.

If you wanna know the translation and my whole ass rant about why I chose each scene for each part, everything is under the cut!

Again, this should be all interpreted in D-16 / Megatron's point of view.

[Millions in despair, I don't understand]

This phrase can be seen in two ways: Representing how he wants to destroy the Cybertron that Sentinel built, all that Sentinel ruled and owned, and Megatron doesn't understand why everyone got so desperate as he destroyed it all. In his vision, they should be grateful that he's destroying everything that someone as bad as Sentinel, the Betrayer, built and took care of. Megatron also doesn't understand how all Cybertronians, mostly the low-class who suffered the most, could follow Sentinel's system for so many years without noticing his antics and behavior.

[Putting your faith in the wrong guy]

Pretty self explanatory. Everyone on Cybertron trusted Sentinel "Prime", only to be betrayed by him. Once Megatron learned about the truth behind Sentinel, he got furious that he put so much faith in him.

[Talking about merit doesn't make sense]

This shows how Megatron would think that Orion Pax / Optimus Prime getting the Matrix of Leadership and speaking like he deserved it shouldn't make sense. D-16 wanted Orion by his side, he believed that Orion would join him to rule Cybertron, and then Optimus Prime appeared once he got the Matrix, leaving Megatron in disbelief.

[If a dark past creates an arid future]

This is about his view on Sentinel's situation in specific. How Sentinel killed all the Primes in the past, and how he's finally getting what he deserved. This would be his arid future, according to Megatron.

[I wish there was a tsunami over the cathedrals]

[The skies would be gained by dark smoke]

[It would also rain ashes]

The "cathedrals" here would be all those things that Sentinel once ruled, including the entirety of Cybertron. How Megatron wanted to destroy it all, to rule it all, to cause a revolution and be the one true leader. This is the beginning of everything, of a new era, a new revolutionary group called Decepticons.

[I wish there was a tsunami over the cathedrals]

[The weight of all the aces]

Now in this line, the cathedrals would be his relationship with Orion. A tsunami destroys everything, and D-16 / Megatron's actions destroyed absolutely everything they had, even if he never wanted it to end like that. Their bond being friendship or not, it's all over now. About the aces, ace cards either begin or end a match, depending on the game. In this case, Megatron is reflecting about the weight of ending everything he and Orion once had. The impact, the weight, the consequences, and how it would now change everyone's lives in the upcoming war.

This was fun to create, thank you if you read it this far! If it's not too much trouble, I highly encourage reblogging this post, I put a lot of thought on this edit lol. Again, thank you <33

[robby-bobby-tommy]

Well, it's time for my hcs. (Mostly UM and KO)

Ultra Magnus has a terrible CPTSD. Sometimes he hears a plane and immediately transforms his hands into blasters. When he talks to someone he tries to continue the dialogue, but all his attention goes to figuring out the location of the enemy. (+ he has bad sleep schedule)

I'M also has a terrible case of 'bad things happen to bots when I leave them'. He doesn't like staying away from the battle, because he cares very much for his new found family. He isn't afraid of dying for the cause, but he doesn't want to lose anyone.

At the free time he has helped some Autobots make their battle skills better. Like he spared with Miko in Apex armor so she could practice her punches and also had classes for medics (Ratchet and KO). They didn't have blasters, which is disadvantage, but they figured out the way to fight almost as good as others.

Speaking of KO. He wasn't very welcomed at team at first, so he was watched very closely. Yet sooner or later they've warmed up to him. KO was a bit afraid at first, but seeing that they meant no harm, he came back to his sassy attitude.

Also KO has some appreciation problems. When he was a decepticon he had to earn the respect and after Shockwave came along he felt very replaceable. He wasn't thanked for his work half as much as he should. So when Ratchet thanked KO in 3 season he genuinely said "you're welcome".

But the moment he felt he was accepted into team prime was when OP didn't let him on some mission. It went like "Why can't I join?", "Knock Out, comrade, you aren't in need of another warrior, yet we may use the help of a second medic." "We can't just lose medics around. Too important." Ratchet adds. After like the whole team nods. And KO felt so appreciated

After that he became very close to Team Prime and (if they stayed on earth) to kids. When some bully is rude to Jack, KO would let Darby drive himself in school just to show off. He'd watch horrors with Miko, and even tell some interesting stuff abt Cybertronian culture, organism ect to Raf

Also he'd race with Bee and Smokescreen, but he is hella competitive. Like this scene in Avatar The Last Airbender, where Azula plays volleyball. "You'll never rise from the ashes of humiliation!" "Dude... It's not that deep bro.."

Oh, and he'd be very awkward with Smokey cuz like... He tried to open him up. But Smokey doesn't mind it, saying that they're even after he put KO in the wall

The other very strange relationship he has with Bulkhead. It's because of Breakdown. Bulkhead hated him and, as we all know, KO was in a relationship with him. Bulk ofc doesn't hold anything against KO for his relationship, yet they'd have a lot of different opinions on BD. They would talk a lot, finding out more about BD's past

And boy oh boy he had a wild one. Him and Bulkhead were born in the same class. They were builders, as Bulkhead said 'I can build stuff, I can break stuff. That's all.' Yet both of them wanted to do more good in the world, so they joined the Wreckers (before the war it was a gang that helped everyone in need and protected the weak), where they've met. Bulk and BD quickly became brothers in arms but the war seperated them

Once BD heard a broadcast of Megatron's ideas of reforming Cybertron and became a great supporter. He joined the decepticons cuz he thought it was his chance to make the world better. He was so blinded by Meg's promises that he thought this crimes were justified. Bulkhead was more observant, and felt something shady and was grossed out by bombings. But the thing that brought them apart and made them enemies was BD's betrayal. Early in the war Megatron was merciless and Wreckers mostly opposed him. Breakdown pledge allegiance to Megan. He wanted whole gang to join, but they refused and Big M wanted to destroy them all. Breakdown told the location of their hideout, and when Wreckers met there, they were greeted by pistols. It was a big fight, some lives were lost. After that BD went with Decepticons and Bulkhead with the Autobots. Now Bulk hated BD for his betrayal

KO never knew abt that cuz he met BD later. Knock Out was a doctor in one of the neutral cities, that were captured by Decepticons early in the war, and decided to join the "winning team" Just to survive

After all the talks Bulkhead started to respect KO more

Knock Out, Bee and Smokey regularly forcing the gang to go to the drive in theaters.

Arcee, June and Miko have a girls nights where they judge everyone

OP and UM are very close. To the point they're mistaken for brothers (they call each other that in private)

Ultra Magnus doesn't like to show affection in public, so when someone wants to hug him or smt like that, they always ask him to another room. Like after OP came back in season 3, Optimus said smt like "Ultra Magnus, old friend, for a word". And then they are just hugging in another room

Optiratch. Just them. Married. Conjux endura. That's all

Megatron, Soundwave and Shockwave are mean girls.

Megasound cuz you can't stop me. And Shocky just third wheeling his spark out.

Shockwave actually started to like Starscream when they were left on earth.

Agent Fowler and June dating, cuz they both deserve better

KO, Arcee and Ratchet form a widow club after the film.

KO and Arcee beat Arachnid's aft together.

That's all for now.

[tidxbit]

Transformers X Overwatch ideas

optimus prime = orisa ultra magnus = reinhardt cybertron / alpha trion = wrecking ball / hamond optimus primal = winston bulkhead / miko = dva pyra magna = zarya elita 1 = sojourn rodimus = soldier blurr = tracer transmutate = echo prowl = cassidy arcee = mei wheeljack = sym maccadam = torb bumblebee = genji drift = hanzo nosecone = venture strongarm = brig springer = pharah minerva = mercy ratchet = ana jetfire = baptiste blaster = lucio perceptor = zen beachcomber = lifeweaver windblade = kiriko wing saber = illari blitzwing = bastion wreck gar = junkrat trashmaster = roadhog megatron = doomfist starscream = reaper shockwave = moira soundwave = sombra blackarachnia = widowmaker astrotrain = sigma lugnut = mauga shadow striker = junker queen flamewar = ashe nemesis prime / ultra magnus armored mode = ramattra

[hallucinateonpaperspines]

How do you think cybertronian society would react (pre war) to ashlyn like unleashed on their planet, because personally I think that would be hilarious and also terrifying. Do I ask this mainly because the thought of young D-16 and either current story Ashlyn or pre story Ashlyn interacting is both terrifying and interesting? Yes.

Honestly, it could go so many different ways, *evil cackle*

Speaking of the new movie, is everybody else hyped? CAUSE I AM SO EXCITED! FINALLY, we are getting a fun animated Transformers film ヾ(*´ ∇ `)ﾉ

I saw that cross-eye megatron reference from Bumblebee, tfp anyone?

ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

ehem, happy dance aside, here's what I think a Golden Age Ashlyn would have been like...

Presuming that she fell into this situation as a Human things get awkward very quickly. Organics aren't very well received on Cybertron nevermind how their products are luxury goods apparently

Running through the streets, ducking under vendor stalls, and darting between peds like a literal street rat, Ashlyn is very very confused on what the utter frag happened to her.

Unfortunately, as an organic alien lifeform, especially as one that is currently undiscovered, she is VERY distinctive. Her small size helps her a bit with sneaking, but eventually, it becomes common knowledge that a weird creature is hanging around. It doesn't help that her need for breathable air severely restricts potential roaming areas, and only a handful of stores/merchants carry edible food items.

Already making a name for herself as a pest... in a surprisingly literal sense.

When she's eventually spotted and caught by a Cybe with particularly good reflexes, Ash is forced to come up with something fast so she doesn't get squished. By now, you all know where her self-defense tendencies tend to point to.

On the plus side, the twerp survived. On the negative, he's going to need a new servo since the wiring that articulates his digits is beyond saving. Also, a small feral organic that goes for joints is apparently entertainment enough for these people. Welcome to the mini and illegal gladiator battles, Ashlyn! The unregulated leagues for those who can't afford to go watch the real thing.

Look at her go, gaining all the XP fighting alien bugs and other mini-bosses.

Of course, 3 things occurred during this time period. 1) Ashlyn is actually picking up on Neocybex and proving surprisingly adept at it. 2) She's starting to gain a legitimate reputation and doing Humans Are Space Orcs proud via creative/brutal takedowns of her opponents, and biological features that can be terrifying to an alien. 3) Someone in Iacon has quietly been looking for a creature resembling her specifications, but due to the fact that Ashlyn is in Kaon and an asset of an illegal fighting ring, she is unidentifiable.

Of course when Ashlyn finally gains enough of an affinity for Neocybex, (with a very thick kaon accent) she wants to wait to reveal her sentience until it's at a point where she can't be knocked off or ignored. That plan does not last. No.

Because Ashlyn Moore, covered in robot gore, looks up one day to see a very familiar outline.

"ɎØɄ"

D-16, for his part, is very confused as to why the little alien just looked at him and started chittering like a sparkling while shaking.

The crowd is in an uproar.

See humans do look very similar in structure to a basic Cybertronain model. Even more so when you compare it to a sparkling model which is squishy. eh, Unicron connection?

The point is, an unidentified, kinda sparkling-ish thing, that sounds like sparkling, has also just fulfilled one of the oldest Sparkling-Guardian rituals of choosing an adult to protect them. Look at ze adult, go to ze adult, don't let ze adult leave without you.

Ashlyn might not have had such... noble intentions when she launched herself at D-16 while rambling, but such is the beauty of cultural miscommunications. And dehydration and malnourishment. And an almost chronically activated stress response. You get situations like these!

"ɎØɄ!-гЅ₮₳₭Ɇ ₴Ø₥Ɇ ⱤɆ₴₱Ø₦₴ł฿łⱠł₮Ɏ! …-₣Ɽ₳₲ł₦₲ ฿Ʉ₲₴ ł'VɆ ₭łⱠⱠɆĐ?"

Ashlyn is only half understandable in this state, but it's fine. D-16, and soon all of Kaon understands perfectly.

A scrappy deformed sparkling, likely originating from an unidentified hot spot, beat the odds and has chosen an ex-miner and soon full-time gladiator to be her sire/mentor. What a spark-warming story.

Oh yeah, and someone in Iacon is still hunting that human.

The end result would probably culminate in an overly suspicious Ashlyn accidentally causing a chain reaction that would lead to a Decepticon Orion Pax, a proper coup of the High Council, probably Emperor of Destruction Starscream, and Big Villian Shockwave. The Autobots would not exist. Does anyone want to try and theorize why?

D-16 would realize pretty quick that this tiny bundle of chaos isn't an actual sparkling, but it's an argument he'd use to keep her should any outside influences try and take Ashlyn away. Why? Because a highly intelligent and vicious mystery just dropped into his lap, and someone on the Council wants it really badly. That's more than enough of a justification.

Now, if only he could find out why the organic hates him so much... and why she's so valuable.

Now Ashlyn as a bot would be VERRRRRY different.

Same as the first, she pops up in Kaon (may or may not be a narrative reason for that (・ω<) )

Unlike the human version, the poor girl is caught almost immediately.

Turns out, stumbling around a foreign area, being unable to speak the language, and lacking identification doesn't get you the best treatment. Unfortunately, her more bestial-looking design doesn't help much either in a Functionist society.

Actually, the Enforcers processing her are pretty confused by it, the wings and taloned servos say Seeker, but the spines and fanged denta hint at something else completely... and the subject refuses, or is unable to, transform into an altmode...

Oh well, can't put it in a category, and then toss it out.

Flagging the weirdness for the bosses to deal with, the anomaly is sent to the mines, and a record containing her image and newly given designation is sent to the higher offices. YN-013 is soon forgotten.

Ashlyn, by the time she figures out written translations for Neocybex, finds the designation hilarious. Her fellow miners don't understand why she giggles when she introduces herself.

The mines are horrible, that much is undeniable, but at the same time, Ashlyn can't help but feel like it should be worse?

Her form proves adept at collecting energon, her claws far more efficient than the half-rusted pick-axe she's handed every day. The energon is easy to find too, almost like there's a sixth sense in her brain for where those shards are hiding.

She doesn't realize that the tunnels she's stationed in quickly gain a reputation for being more productive. That her peers end their days not quite as run down anymore. That miners switch shifts and bribe to be in the same branch of tunnels. She's quickly become an omen of good luck and temporary revival.

Ashlyn also doesn't realize that someone in Iacon is tearing through every rumor on Cyberton looking for her... or the organic her.

D-16 hears rumors about the newest unfortunate spark that's been sent to join them in the dark, but he doesn't believe it. Not until he sees it.

There is something about this individual that's different, maybe the stories are true. Solus reforged, perhaps? The missing Thirteenth? Or is this a new prime, come to save them and bring Cybertron back to its glory.

Ashlyn for her part is vibing collecting pretty rocks, and would prefer the future genocidal maniac to stay far away from her, please.

The not-yet-future-genocidal-maniac does not leave. Instead, he talks.

D-16 is actually the one that teaches her proper Neocybex, not the fragmented version she's been getting by with. In return, she tells him what the surface was like for the brief bit of time she was there.

Over time, the strange happenings around YA-013 are normalized and forgotten, but not by D-16. He knows she is not just some wild-forged thing that had the bad to stumble into the wrong city-state. He knows that she can't just be some bestial new-forged, because her optics are far too aware, too knowing. She hesitates, as though shuffling through information when she speaks. The alien babble she talks to herself in, while basic, is too natural to be anything but a primary language. Her smiles are sad even if the laughter is easy. She says things, and calls him Bucket Head, and Mega-arse.

She already knows who his favorite Prime is.

YN-013 never comments when he explains his plans to become a gladiator and gain his freedom. But he can feel the judgment. The resignation. Like she already knew. "Forget about me when you become one of the most famous bots to walk on Cybertron, yeah? Little old me will be nothing compared to the masses that'll scream your name."

YN-013 never talked about her own future, not in a way that sounds lasting. "I'd like to sightsee while I can. Never know when city walls will go tumbling down."

Megatronus doesn't forget her. Not in the Pits as he battles against foes and realizes how much healthier his frame is compared to his opponents, how much stronger, despite them all feeding off the same scraps. He doesn't forget as he meets an Archivist and hears all the snide jokes about his type being "boys in red and blue. Sweet nerds that take forever to commit to ending you."

Orion Pax, quickly becomes a close friend. Megatron never comments on his paint job. He's yet to see Pax exhibit anything but an agreeable and slightly excitable disposition... but he can't help but hold back even as he chides his own superstition.

"I don't think you'll have much luck in the friend department, Bucket. "

Why had he never gone back for her? Why had she never joined him in the arena?

"That's your origin story, D, and I'd hate to incinerate your undefeated record."

Megatron doesn't forget the stranger hidden in the mines. Not when he meets Orion's mentor, not when he stands before the Council, not as every veiled barb, sorrowful mutter, or hidden revelation comes true.

Even when he goes back for her and finds her gone, the Warlord never forgets the seer of the mines.

YN-013 had never realized, that just as D-16 had taught her a language, so too had she taught him hers. Every private word, every thoughtless exclamation, he remembered.

No, that unfortunate spark in the mines was not a wild-forged femme with bad luck. She was not a prime, remade, or replace. She was something different. A puzzle, a friend, an asset.

Lord Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, never forgot.

So how strange was it, to find a planet that spoke that same tongue?

The Autobots seek a relic and the Decepticons search for a seer. Optimus inherits a charge that can only be fulfilled through a missing person and Megatron wants closure to the fate and identity of someone he might've considered a friend.

Ashlyn struggles with guilt over choosing to not change the timeline and has been hiding on Earth since the last few centuries of the war. She's spawned more than a few stories in her wanderings, triggered some changes she never realized. A shifter who went rogue after a drunken conversation at a bar and never swore his loyalty. Bartering fuel with an Autobot vessel, allowing the Ark to avoid Decepticon Scouts and remain unharmed. A Prime who learned the truth about his predecessors early, and resolved to do more than simply restore his planet to what it used to be.

Ashlyn can't hide from the plot forever. War or not, things have changed, and now she's part of that story.

[thenamesblurrito]

ask dump fourteen(? pretty sure it's fourteen)

haven't done this in a long time! for new followers, this is all questions about SNAP, my magical girl tf fan canon

lore topics this time are: pollution, spambots, the Onyx Triptych's powers, v-tubing, Depression era food, squishing Optimus, monoformers, Rodimus's flames as a shield, hero transformations, and Ariel vs boar

uhhhh probably pretty similar to what creates pollution here on Earth, just with different effects since it's not an organic ecosystem? "adapted to it" is kind of impossible to answer though, considering how many forms of "pollution" there can be. strip mining, pumping liquids or gas, and excessive drilling will end up dumping a lot of dirt and byproduct into the surrounding area, only it's less likely to be toxic. more like covering the area in rubble, runoff, or mudslides than "pollution", bc heavy metals are the norm there, and leaving large valleys, caves, or empty cavities in the crust that may make the area unsafe to navigate. one of the usual bad effects is accidentally or on purpose diverting the flow of energon in the area, or even damaging hotspots and leylines. on Earth this would be the equivalent of damming/draining a river, messing up the water table, removing citywide plumbing, or cutting power for weeks/months with no fix. their landfills aren't pollutants so much as they are recycling on a planetary level

airborne pollution is less of an issue, not bc they don't have a lot of "pollutants" in their atmosphere but bc the mixture of gasses is less important to their ecosystem than it is to ours. they've got weather control stations scattered around Cybertron (first ask here) and some of that work is air purification/atmospheric preservation. fine grit and dust can have negative effects, in the same way volcanic ash getting into machinery or blanketing roads can be detrimental, and they often have issues with heavy precipitation causing floods, so those are the usual culprits for airborne elements

probably the thing most widely considered to be pollution is rust, even tho it's a perfectly natural part of Cybertron's ecosystem. the Rust Sea is like that naturally and should be like that, but the harsh effects of rust still give it a cultural connotation of a polluted wasteland. huge patches of rust, oxidization, or other enbrittlement outside of the Rust Sea can be a sign of environmental degradation which may be caused by pollution, but not necessarily. the other big one is organic material, often fungi, molds, or bacteria that have adapted to live on metals or plastics and form big colonies that outstrip the ecological balance of the area to the point of "pollution". this can happen with invasive species from Eukaris or Caminus as well. actually speaking of which, Eukaris as a technoorganic ecosystem and Caminus with some native organic flora would be more susceptible to the kinds of pollution we're familiar with than other planets

GOD. FROID REALLY WOULD, THE LOSER AHFHGKF. i'm taking this ask as an online suspicious ad/random phone call asking for ur credit card info type of scam and not just any situation of someone lying

first of all, Soundwave and minicons would be the scammers, of course. uhhh Rodimus is p easy to dupe if it's about the right thing or if he's not paying attention. Windblade has her moments of naivety which would make her a potential scam target if her cityspeaking didn't often give her a heads up. Chromia WILL click on ragebait just constantly and really needs to invest in an adblocker for this reason. Hellscream, if he spent his time on a computer, may get suckered by beauty scams and consider buying into an MLM. Ariel can be convinced that she broke some rule or another fairly easily, but the trouble is that can't be used to scare her into participating with a scam bc she thinks breaking rules is a fun pastime

Orion is susceptible to begging and playing nice by ppl irl like Sentinel but not rly online scam stuff. Minimus would accidentally pick up the phone for an insurance scammer and then spend the next hour lecturing them about how this is not how anything works and here is every single law and procedure about it. Blitzwing would accidentally pick up the phone for an insurance scammer, realize it, and then scream and pretend to die in a car crash to freak them out. Makeshift would probably do the same

as for non heroes: Oil Slick has definitely gotten his credit card info stolen like, seven times. TG unironically believes in MLMs. Swindle is an even bigger scammer than Soundwave

could not locate the post this is quoting rip. i'm certain i mentioned this somewhere as a one off but i cannot for the life of me find it so! lemme just say it all here

the Onyx Triptych mask is primarily an othersight related relic, which is sorta a catch all term for any kind of vision-like extrasensory perception like Drift, Soundwave, Cyclonus, etc. each of the three masks can hone in on different things. Mournsong sees the trails of sparks moving thru life to death ala sunrise to sunset, and can see them going to/existing in the Well. Predator sees into those sparks, into the person they are, what they have done, the ripples they have left, and so on, and then track them that way like a bloodhound. Farsight sees… potential? or metaphors made real? or places and times and realities that aren’t this one shaped by the concept of people, in a confusing and dazzling display of Everything that (probably) means Nothing. it doesn’t matter which face Triptych is wearing at the moment, those visions are technically available to him all at once, the masks each are focusing tools that block out a “spectrum” of othersight so he can pick the right thing to look at

the way he sees sparks, dead or alive, isn’t like seeing ghosts! Drift sees them as people, faces and frames and echoes of who they were and what they did. Triptych sees literal sparks, zooming around like comets, leaving afterimages looping back and forth wherever they go like infinite comet tails. kind of like looking at a long exposure photo with those long light trails! and it’s just sight, it’s not interaction really, unlike Drift who can “feel” the ghosts in a way that lets him speak with them if they’re strong enough to sense him back. Triptych uses his othersight more to hunt down living people (or at least, the living ppl with sparks he manages to identify in all that visual noise. they’re just balls of light, they don’t come with name tags!) bc he can see where they’ve been + what they might be doing + what kind of creature they are no matter the distance. it’s handy when he shows up late to the monster of the week and has to track down the other cons

the experience of being Triptych is basically the visual equivalent of this song, and explains why he’s so… like that. even tho Blitzwing tries rly hard to be a chill guy and manages his triple fracture pretty well, it all goes out the window when he powers up and leans into the crazy. this is uhhh kind of detrimental to his mental health, and he knows it, but who said teenagers make wise decisions???

re: the ghost interview thing, that’s more likely to be a Deadlock moment, since his form of othersight and empathy is much more fitting. comparatively, he can’t actually see into the afterlife like Triptych can tho!

i mean... i guess? something about my brain means i hate watching videos that aren't movies/documentaries (and sometimes even then) so streamers and youtube in general aren't my forte. i'd imagine generating a virtual avatar for a mech is a lot quicker and the use of it a lot smoother, especially via object interface, so yeah sure! i know nothing about the world of v-tubing tho so that's kind of all i can comment on?

i missed "era" the first time i read this and really went geez what depressed person is making peanut filled onions in the depths of their apathy???

it's probably going to be just the staples of iron (and other metals) and energon in various forms, most conveniently a silted shake, and if they're lucky enough to live anywhere edible cyberflora grow, some supplemental fruits/veggies. they can mix up the form and presentation for personal preference, like crystal energon vs liquefied fuel, etc, but that's always going to be the cheapest and most necessary things to eat that are easy to acquire. heck, plenty of people who aren't poor or suffering a depression economy live exclusively off silted shakes just for efficiency

uhhh if i'm going for realism, no he couldn't survive being squashed literally flat bc that would destroy his body and rupture his spark (not that Optimus dying is a big deal tbh)

if i'm going for a funnie cartoon logic gag which would definitely fit in this magical girl anime genre, then sure! Pancake Prime roll out!

the most relevant analogue to monoformers in SNAP would be Mutacons, an actual frametype like triple-changers. people who have lost the ability to transform due to injury or the like (ala Terminus and his loss of mobility) aren't really called monoformers, they're just called disabled. or some other less savory terms, depending on if the speaker is a bigot, i suppose

considering functionism is all about sorting people according to both useful body types and social connections, people who are unable to transform get the short end of the stick by a big margin. if their function doesn't require transformation, if their support network is solid, etc, then they will probably be okay, but it won't be fun. and there isn't really a "monoformer movement" here either, for a variety of reasons. maybe surgically removing the t-cog was something that occurred in the past, maybe voluntarily or maybe at the command of a despot, idk, but it's not a thing currently

oh sure. depends on the speed/material of the projectile, but Rodimus could certainly spew enough flame to burn something away or at least change trajectory with the heat/wind/pressure. for some examples, if it's like uhh... Cheetor at top speed? no way, some fire isn't going to do anything to someone moving that fast. if it's Optimus barrelling thru in truck mode? mmmm probably not going actually stop him, it's just fire and not an actual explosion or physical force that could push Optimus back, but the heat would do some damage and the light may sour his aim. bullets? i'm actually not sure about this one, he could definitely get it hot enough that bullets melt midair but the splatter of molten metal may not be great either. nets or other capture gear thrown by Enforcers? oh sure that's a piece of cake to burn off

huh, i hadn't even thought of this before... i think they could absolutely go from kid root mode to hero alt mode, or vice versa/whatever combination thereof. considering their hero forms are, technically, straight up different bodies that they manifest and inhabit when powering up, the root and alt modes of both aren't necessarily linked (and aren't even equivalent for folks like Blackarachnia or Deadlock who become triple-changer heroes, or Makeshift who has no alt mode)

(post this is referring to)

she's kind of hardcore so she would actually try going up against a beryllium boar! would she win? debatable. her odds are much better now that she can become Elita 1. assuming she could successfully slaughter a boar, she may not know exactly what to do from there, as she's more on the violence side than the culinary skills side, but she would at least be able to stomach killing/processing/eating an animal!

[blueikeproductions]

So the current hullabaloo is Hasbro isn’t funding any more movies going forward due to a string of flops, TFONE among them, and people are freaking out.

Now having looked over it, they never say they’re NOT making more movies, they’re just not going to help fund more going forward, as stuff like Snake Eyes and TFONE proved to be a huge money sink. They’re also not going to be creatively involved as much either, though going by some fans’ poor reaction still to Bayformers, maybe Hasbro was never THAT involved to begin with.

So what does this mean going forward?

Heck if I know. None of us truly understand what’s going on here, but what we can infer is at the end of the day is Hasbro doesn’t want to pay out of pocket for more potential flops.

Most likely it’ll just be purely licensing similar to Skybound, where the Energon Universe was given the opportunity to do what it wants, and in this case, did so to great success after they won over Hasbro with their pitch.

In other words Paramount and/or Skydance pay Hasbro a fee to use the Transformers in movies, vs it being a more direct collaboration like before.

Until something else is stated, it sounds like the GI Joe team up movie is still a go, along with future TF projects with Josh Cooley. Transformers as a brand still does well for Hasbro overall, and we’re still on track to get CyberWorld and Wild King next year. So situation is mostly normal.

Still, the best we can do is speculate.

A big problem with IDW and post RiD15 cartoons were this huge insistence on making the Decepticons sympathetic, there by making Megatron into an Autobot. I will die on this hill, this has been a major issue. The average Joe wants Megatron to be a villain again, they want the Decepticons to be an evil empire bent on galactic conquest. That is the story we’ve had for 40 years, clearly that formula worked. Changing it now has led to same apathy the Pokémon anime is stuck in since it swapped out Ash for Liko.

The problem I continue to have is if they want to retire the Decepticons and Megatron as the villains that’s fine, they just need to pick a successor but they’re still so unwilling to do so. The Terrorcons and Quintessons feel like that’s what Hasbro wants, but for some reason we haven’t had a definitive modern take on the Autobots fighting them instead of the Decepticons.

Mandroid and his Arachnamechs feel like another attempt at proper villain faction, but they screwed it up too.

The Quintessons took over later in EarthSpark, but their main leader (that we know of) is dead now, and the show haphazardly has otherwise retuned to the Decepticons being the antagonists.

Prior to that in WFC and Cyberverse, it felt like there was a push to get the new Mercenary faction up and running as villains…

But that went nowhere too. Not helped is Hasbro seems to be ignoring this group entirely now…

Skybound started their TF book with the usual Decepticon conflict, albeit cranked up to 11, but trained the idea started with the first Bay film and TFA, by slowly building up to Megatron. The leaders now on Earth are Soundwave leading the main faction while Starscream has taken command of a splinter faction made up of the Combaticons and Astrotrain. Shockwave was the leader on Cybertron but, barring anything left field, he’s dead now, with an injured Megatron having escaped Cobra-La, but his current plans and whereabouts unknown atm.

So on top of being indecisive with replacement factions, it also feels like most want a return to basics, which means the traditional Autobots vs Decepticons approach. Skybound has largely succeeded in this front with Transformers, same with their GI Joe series. It’s probably because of the success of the Energon Universe Hasbro and Paramount still want to push forward with their own crossover movie, and as much as fans want to complain about Joes in their Autobots, the two series have crossed over frequently SINCE the 80’s. I’m actually more surprised Galaxy Force and Sigma 6 didn’t team up nor did Prime and its Joe counterpart. We ALL know Cobra Commander would want to use the Earth Cyber Planet Key for dumb nefarious reasons and I’m sad we never got Cobra aligned Destrons doing a Force Chip Ignition lol.

Anyhow, on the off chance more TFONE stuff continues, my guess is the former approach will be taken: the heroic Autobots vs the evil Quintessons, with Optimus convincing Megatron to begrudgingly help them.

I believe it was said the villains for CyberWorld are still Decepticons but the choices give me a Predacon and Terrorcon vibe.

Wild King on the Japanese end, post EarthSpark, makes me wonder if we’re reverting to how things used to be. Transformers is co owned by Hasbro and Takara, but both companies go their own directions with the characters, which is how we got stuff like Victory, Car Robots, Beast Wars II, and recently the Trigger PV.

What happens post EarthSpark and post TFONE will be very interesting going forward if nothing else. Skybound’s continued success will probably influence things to some extent as I strongly feel going back to basics is what’s going to help in the long run.

[autobotprime]

Some low quality sketches to /slightly/ peak your interest. I've got a comic series coming to you soon but after being back on Tumblr for even a couple months I can tell my writing and art are nowhere NEAR as genius as half of you beautiful folks. So, take this with a grain of salt but-

Transformers Ashes of Cybertron: The Rebel's Story coming soon.

DISCLAIMER: nothing is final here not even their designs!

[witchofthesouls]

(Okay, a snippet of the fic idea from the ask meme Burn your sins and wash away your virtues submitted by @skyite: )

< I am my brother’s equal, child of clay and stardust. My power may have waned after the long eons of my exile, but I am still tethered to Cybertron and its children for Solus is mine and I am hers. Prima is not the only one to ordain new champions for Primus, nor are you merely one of my lineage, little far-song echo of my own brand. If I am the Breaker, then you shall be the Reaper. >

And like a lifetime before, a lifetime where June was the only survivor and a god gave her a chance to go back, even if he never told her where, nor when, nor as what, Megatronus then levied himself down and breathed fire into her face and she had no choice to inhale it all. Damn the consequences because she already made her choice. Even with a body of metal rather than flesh, June melted and warped, painted bubbling, fuel flashed to steam, and robes were eaten by flames, her optics shattered and her chest imploded as she was wreathed in the very essence of his own power.

She transcended beyond pain and agony, beyond physical sensation, and would have flown away, freed from being fettered to a body if it wasn’t for the cage of Megatronus’ hands and he plucked her away and opened his own chassis. In her newfound awareness, she saw Megatronus what he truly was as he set her upon a new pyre made of his own churning spark.

< Arise, new Prime of my own frame, and Judge wisely for you shall reshape this world as I have done. >

___________

When Soundwave looked deep into the twisting flames of Solus’ legendary Forge, all he saw was a funerary pyre and Cybertron remade in the aftermath of its ashes and fury.

___________

Soundwave woke up, gasping for air. His entire frame boiling, despite the frigid temperatures several stories beneath the surface and in the sanctum where followers give tidings and thanks to the closest approximation to Megatronus’ Shadows. He shook with uncontrollable spasms and vents wheezed as cooling systems struggled immensely with Soundwave’s entire frame overheating to extreme levels. Even his own systems were prioritizing life-support and disabling others: his vision, weapons, transformative sequences, and all communications were among the considered lower priorities.

A pair of slim servos, blessedly cold and steady, held him down and dripped fresh coolant over his frame and cold fuel into his lips until the dire warning signs downgraded enough to allow him back his own sight and voluntary movement.

When he saw Juno’s face, blackened by soot and smeared in ashes, it was Megatronus Prime's own optics -twin suns of fuchsia blazing in the dark above him.

The dream was disjointed: the massive height of Solus, Liege Maximo’s gleaming horns, Megatronus’ melting glyphs, and the living flames of the Forge’s vision, but grounded in reality was the phantom cool touch of a scythe and the sword-shuttle-needle in both his hands as well as the heavy coating of residue upon his frame and smoke in his intakes.

Face bare and in his own voice, he rasped out the very name given from the blaze-turned-firestorm:

“Hail, Nemesis Prime.”

[lets-try-some-writing]

An interesting au-ish scenario i thought up

Unicron: Earth the spark in this physical body at one point is going to go out. It is a smelter that needs to smelt or else the spark dies i should've made a better design but eh

Earth: Oh..

Unicron: I can with ease create myself a new vessel frame i will do that when your children kill out themselves fully and then you'll be able to transform and move freely

Moon: Then what?

Unicron: We travel the three of us together what else? I have many sights i want to show to the two of you in person. And space whales are worth listening to

Moon: *touched* ...Oh

Earth:  Aww..

Unicron: Ahem.. Cat lady and murderhobo are welcome to join in too if they want i suppose..The more the merrier.. or something ..

Just.. Death and his companions..  Traversing stars together.. Celestial travelers..(potential au name?)

And imagine the potential shenanigans.. It would be especially chaotic if Mars decided to tag along with his sparkling horde *Unicron voice* This is star dust *cue rover sparklings repeating star dust*

I can see this happening eventually.

Unicron will need to break from his slumber eventually. It is the way of the universe, and as Primus becomes more active, so too must Unicron in order to keep the scales even. By the time he actually rises from his slumber, Earth's children will have long since fled to the stars. Earth will be ready for her death. That is the way it was always meant to be. She was born to fill a vacuum, and with that vacuum quickly about to be filled, there would be no need for her.

But of course, in this happier future, Moon and Unicron will have long planned for this. Sweeping in just as he'd waited to do so for so long, Moon will rush to transform and begin working to pull Earth away from her father's frame. Unicron will assist in the effort by forcefully snapping away as much of his connection to Earth as possible, hopefully loosening her with a minimal amount of pain. It will still ache and pain her, but after so long resting and recovering from the burning of Cybertron, Moon will have the strength to pry her off of Unicron just in time for him to properly wake.

Earth, now free of Unicron's frame, will quickly attach herself to Moon. Merging will not be the most fun thing in the world, that with Earth's need to take energy from whomever serves as her host. However, once it is complete, Moon's mission will be complete, and finally the Titans present can deliberate on their next choice of action.

Unicron: The humans will lament the loss of their homeworld.

Moon: They can get over it. Earth shall endure no more pain with me. My citizens will care for the both of us.

Mars: That's all well and good, but what do we do now?

Pluto: I am still very on board with the idea of shooting that Unmaker.

Mars: Pluto, no. He's not insane anymore. I think the millennia spent in his time out box did him good.

Pluto: A bold statement from the one who has yet to let go of those rovers.

Earth: Enough... my children are scattered... I wish to see them... and travel the stars.

Unicron: And your wish shall be fulfilled. Long have you endured the threat of looming doom. But no longer. I shall not come for you this cycle daughter of mine.

Earth: You call me your... daughter?

Unicron: Of course. You are of me, and it is for you that I remain here so that I might show you the stars.

Moon: Took you long enough.

With the stars awaiting them, Unicron will travel alongside his Titan companions to show them the universe he and Primus worked to create. There will be no need to kill Primus just yet. That can come later... whenever the universe needs to be rebuilt from ash and dust. Let Earth and the rest see the place he and Primus created. There is no need to rush the end.

Death comes for all in good time.

[zmioniks]

Almost done whit my transformers oc still havent decided on name but i have some lore . She was cybertronian scientist and lived in kaon when megatron burned it to ash she was cought in fire and sustained critical damage and lost lower half of body she used one of trypticons turets that fell in battle to ramake herself and in process given herself another altmode of that turrer she scavanges on whats left of Cybertron and tries to rebuild what she can

[elfmoon3]

A Shadowy Mist Chapter 26 (Transformers Animated story)

Pairings: Prowl x Oc, Bumblebee x Oc

Summary: With Reaper joining the group, things have been mystical lately.

Location: The Autobot Hideout in Detroit.

Everyone looked at Reaper, who calmly put his katana back on his back. Sari and the recent agents looked at him with amazement. Chris scoffed, "Show off." He said, "Dude, you totally helped us with those decepticon losers." Razor said. "Yeah, but the question is, how did you know Bumblebee and Prowl were in trouble?" Ash asked. Reaper sighed as he stood up, "Some weird looking spirit told me. He looked like a samurai." He said, "Strangely enough, he didn't look human." He added. That got Prowl's attention. Could this mysterious human be talking about his sensei Yoketron? "What other features did he have?" He asked Reaper, "Kinda white with black and gold. Seems wise, too." Reaper said, Shadow Mist looked surprised, "That almost sounds like.." She said, "..Yoketron." Prowl finished for her. "You know him?" Reaper asked, "He was my sensei back on Cybertron." Prowl answered, "I see. I'm sorry for your loss." Reaper said, bowing to the Autobot. "He must've been important to you." He added. "He was." Prowl said, "I've reunited with him at the Well of the All Spark." He added, "Then that tells me you were revived." Reaper said, "Yeah, by her." Prowl said, looking at Shadow Mist. "I used two types of energon to bring him back, regular and dark. But somehow, he's showing signs of Terrorcon likeness and is stronger, faster, and more agile." Shadow Mist explained. "That and the fangs." Bumblebee said, "But like I said in the forest, you're still the same Prowl we all know and care about." He added. Prowl smiled, and he's lucky to have a caring friend like Bumblebee. "Interesting." A familiar voice said. Everyone turned around to see LockDown at the door. "Never thought a human would be at the Well of the All Spark." The Bounty Hunter said. Reaper took out his weapon and was ready to fight. But Meagan placed her hand on her shoulder and shook her head as he looked at her. "He's not a decepticon." She told him. "Ya sure?" Reaper asked. "Positive." She said as she then explained that LockDown only works for anyone who pays him. Reaper sighed and put his weapon away. "You're an interesting human." LockDown said, "Well, to be honest, I'm not really human." Reaper said, the others looked at him with confusion. "Then your a vampire like Meagan?" Ash asked. Reaper shook his head, "I'm actually a spirit." He answered. "A spirit? Like an angel?" Sari asked. "You can say that." He said, "Then how can we see you?" Spike asked. "I consist of hard light, not only it helps me interact with the physical world, but I'm not subjective to the limitations of a living person. So basically, I'm able to cross from the physical world and the spirit world." He explained, "So that veil thingy that Meagan mentioned when she told us about the origin of Halloween doesn't bother you?" Bulkhead asked, "Not at all my giant green friend." Reaper answered. "Actually, Halloween is when I'm more busy." He added. Meagan looked at them. "You see, Reaper is known as a Demon Slayer, he and his comrades fight demons who enter into the physical world. But knowing the demonics, they stay away from technology." She explained. "That includes Cybertronians." She added. "Cool!" Spike and Razor said in unison. Skull stayed quiet, and left the room. Chris took noticed of this and excused himself to go talk with the young man. "Something wrong, kid?" He asked Skull. "It's nothing, sir." He said, "Just wanted to be alone." He said as he goes out the back door. LockDown also seems to noticed the young agent's sudden behavior as he saw him leaving into the night.

Sometime later in downtown Detroit.

Skull was at BurgerBot all by himself as the server gave him his meal, she noticed something parked near the window of where his seat is. "Cool car, is it yours?" She asked him, Skull turned to look out to see a green and black muscle car, he sighs as he noticed something about the vehicle, he said yes to the server so he doesn't scare her off. "I'll take this order outside if you don't mind?" He asked. As he got to an outside table near the green and black muscle car he sighed and sat down, "you know your not fooling me." He said, the car laughed, it turned out to be LockDown in vehicle mode. "Sorry kid, but I got curious when you left, but I'm not alone." He said as Chris came by with his own order. "Look, you can say what's on your mind, kiddo. Me and the Bounty Hunter are willing to listen." He said as he sat down. Skull sighed, "Alright, I give up. When Reaper talked about demons, memories of my sister's murder came crawling back." He said. "I was 15, she was 18, but one day she disappeared, and when they found her body, it was too late for her." He explained. "No one knows how she died, but suspicious cult activity was in our area and I feared she was a victim to that activity." He said sadly. LockDown looked into what he meant and sighed, "I may be working for the decepticons when needed, but I can't help but feel sorry for you, kid." He said, "Same here." Chris said, "But what happened to her wasn't your fault, mate." He added, "You don't have to beat yourself about it." Skull looked at Chris, for a strange person, he's really kind. "I know, I just wish I did something to save her that day." He said sadly. "You know what, kid. If I were a human bounty hunter, I'd find the sickos who put your sister offline." LockDown said, "But, I don't think revenge is your style. When you finish your fuel up, I'd like to take you somewhere. If you don't mind?" LockDown asked. Chris looked at the Cybertronian dead in the windshield. "As long as I go with him." He demanded. "Sure, Chris, if you have the fuel tank for it?" LockDown said. The Australian chuckled, "Try me, mate." He answered

To be continued...

[grantgfan]

Hey, (Hoenn) Ash and May…

if you two appeared in “Transformers Power Force” and got exosuits like Misty recently did in ep 7 of that show, what do you two think you’ll transform into?

ash: i would look like mudflap from transformers cybertron.

may: and i would look like pipes.