Tfa Megop - Tumblr Posts

Hi everyone, I just put my first ao3 fic up. It’s kind of lengthy -I had word vomit and emotions at the times of writing it.

Please read the tags first (I know they’re a jumbled heap) but the content is not Tumblr friendly.

AJSKKDKSKD✨🦑

There’s only one way to impress sassy Primes with authority issues, and it’s not through meaningful attempts to convince him he’s being taken advantage of by his leaders.

it’s with Stronkness 💕baybee

I’m being predictable again.

How many times have I drawn/wrote about protective Megatron becoming prisoner Optimus’ sugar daddy now

Its Megatron Baby Hours for this sleepy binch.

This was written solely to make Megatron the hopelessly embarrassed one for once. Even though Optimus is still baby, he’s not nearly as baby baby as Megatron is baby. You know?

Prepare for cringe fluff that got way out of hand.

ALSO I’m pretty sure all my carefully placed italicized words are gone, and I can’t even look right now or else it’ll kill me.

Warnings in tags✨

——————————-

He knew he had a choice to make, and soon. Either leave this with someone trustworthy enough to deliver it to the little Prime and wash his hands of it entirely, or...

Give it to him himself- as he had intended to before realization came crashing into him with a thousand tonnes, that I’m doing so, Optimus might interpret it for exactly what it was: A gift.

Megatron stared accusingly at only visible sliver of the blasted thing tucked away in his massive servo, balled into a steady fist.

Nearly crushing it several times now.

It was with that embarrassing lack of self control in which the decision was made for him. Also partly in thanks to his sizably unholy ego.

Megatron was many things, but certainly no coward. If he had chosen this gift with the intention of seeing the Prime take it from his own servos then he better not second guess himself. That’d be half admitting that Starscream was right about her assessment of his leadership.

Megatron needed to hear more of that in the middle of a staff meeting after his gift’s impromptu discovery exactly never again. The smug look on Strika’s face… Urgh.

If Optimus didn’t go around shuttering his optics up at him every time he spoke in low, measured rumbles about the glorious feats of millennias past, or turn a pretty color when Megatron had to reach over him to grab something, he’d be a lot more worried about Optimus rejecting such a blatant attempt. But clearly -thank Primus- the smaller mech was enchanted in such a way when it came to him, and that was all the convincing Megatron needed in order to pursue it.

More than enough.

But his worry was in whether Optimus might find the gift itself acceptable, rather than whether he though Megatron’s advancing on him in such a flirtatious manner appropriate.

Megatron couldn’t help glancing at the thing again, his uncertainty mounting.

Optimus seemed to like to challenge himself, and this gift was a challenge of sorts. But was it too juvenile for being purposely made a rather easy accomplishment?

Optimus was easy to agitate, though -not in part to Megatron’s constant teasing- and perhaps presenting him a ‘challenge’ of this kind would be as demeaning as Ultra Magnus thinking it a ‘challenge’ for the young Prime to follow directions.

It wasn’t that Optimus couldn’t, obviously- it was simply that he possessed a brain module and some extraordinary self-sense.

Megatron’s spark began to beat faster. He did so prize the other’s ability to recognize absolute slag when he saw it. Including his own. Even more than that, he was enamored with Optimus’ strength of spark to act on it, unafraid to condemn himself for the greater good.

Like fleeing with the Allspark all that time ago.

It didn’t matter what sort of enemies that had earned him on the way- his high commander included.

Megatron couldn’t help but smile, terrifying the hapless minicons he passed on the decking, just trying to move out of the way of him marching on dazedly.

For a mech so tame and accepting, Optimus was wild at spark in the most surprising ways. If he’d never forsaken his commander’s direct orders, Megatron would have never met the thoughtful mech, or have been forced to endure the chaos only a youthful, headstrong prime could have caused him for the entirety of their stay on that dirtball planet.

The irony in his wistful urge to return to that time, to a place horrid and foreign, trapped together in the most unaccommodating circumstances.

Megatron heard another creak and quickly loosened his grip on the hapless gift being squeezed in his massive palm.

Remembering Earth had become something bittersweet. Megatron knew their chance encounter had been anything but ideal. The time they spent in each other’s unfortunate company consisted of even greater atrocities than trying to tear each other apart on a crashing ship had.

He shuddered to think he’d once used the object of his most ardent affections as a shield.

His thunderous scowl at the memory caused another stir of desperate mechs trying to dodge his path as he continued down the flight deck.

Thankfully -to spare anymore civilians in all this wayward self-reflection- there was Optimus. Completely immersed in his work, overseeing a new hanger designed to accommodate frames many times his size. Gigantic bots like Blackout, clipping his wings on his entry and exit thought the shuttle docks had been the Prime’s inspiration to push for its construction. And he’d stayed, after arguing and eventually winning his proposition, thanks to deeply invested ex-Decepticon flight frames at his back raving with him, to supervise his little project.

Megatron felt his chest swell with an overbearing heat at the thought of such conviction for the welfare of his own mechs, coupled with the sight of the little bot hard at work. This compassionate little thing...

Megatron’s spark swelled.

Just then, Optimus’ finial twitched, and his attention was drawn like a magnet over to where Megatron was stood making good use of the new sizable room with his shoulder proudly squared. Seeing for himself his efforts so rewarded finally brought a little smile to the mech’s face.

“Megatron?” His voice rang out over the constant drilling and clatter around him. That voice so familiar and welcoming, Megatron didn’t even have to strain to hear it. Having committed his soft little coos while whispering to one another under the stars of the observation deck to memory, his processor instantly filled in the gaps.

Megatron’s recent absence from the smaller mech while he’d spent cyber-weeks off planet side had admittedly made it easier to. There hadn’t been a klik while he was gone that he hadn’t replayed a vivid memory file of his dearly missed, little Prime.

Optimus -refusing to abandon his tireless work- beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. His finials held high on his helm.

Smitten, Megatron helplessly obeyed.

“I thought you were on leave at the moment?” Optimus asked when the war machine was close enough to hear. Just a few short feet away.

The stupid smile that spread Megatron’s own lips fell, realizing he’d been caught somewhat.

“I... needed to make a stop…”

There was a tense moment of silence, as the implications sank in, but thankfully it did. Megatron hadn’t wanted to explain it himself, embarrassed enough he’d turned an entire warship around.

“For...me?” Optimus murmured, hazarding a guess. Megatron shifted uncomfortably.

Then the Prime’s optics did that demure little thing they often did where they lowered self-consciously to stare at the floor, causing the larger mech to feel eerily similar to being stuck in a tailspin while in his altmode.

Megatron sparing more time out of his busy cycle to have ‘runins’ with him weren’t much of a surprise anymore, surely. But Optimus was a humble bot -an enormous turn on for a mecha having dug himself up from out of the pit with his own two servos and carried an entire revolution on his back with him.

Which Optimus would know a thing or two about that himself.

When a curious looking Prowl sauntered by the pair just out of his peripheral, looking over with those keen optics of his, Megatron chose that moment to move things along and hopefully excuse himself sooner from his own impending embarrassment.

He reset his vocalizer, then pulled the thing he’d been sent here -by his previously fearless ego- to deliver out from behind him.

At the sight, Optimus’ engine startled.

“What’s this for?” He asked, blinking down at one massive paw. Seeing it instantly gave him some vague idea of what it was, having tried his servo at deciphering a similar mechanism before in his travels to fight off deep space boredom. He hadn’t really applied himself then, deciding reading was more worthwhile, but suddenly, looking over this object now resting in Megatron’s extended servo, it seemed imperative he accept the shiny thing with the utmost enthusiasm.

Optics going wide and glittery, a smile slowly spreading his astonishingly pretty mouth, hanging open in surprise.

Like it was anything so spectacular than it was just a measly three dimensional puzzle.

Never mind what it was made of- Megatron thought it would be unfitting to tell him the value of its material until after he’d crafted the beautiful thing, which would likely only take an hour.

For now, handing it over with a bit more force than Megatron had meant to in his eagerness to escape would do.

“No particular reason.” He finally answered when the gift was secured in Optimus’ tight, clutching servos.

He tried his hardest not to let his confidence over inflate so, when Optimus grinned up at him with the puzzle of crystal clusters looking much bigger and heavier in his hands, held close and careful to his chest.

Gift received and appreciated.

Megatron’s work here was done.

“Enjoy that little Prime.” He shrugged, trying pathetically hard to ignore the thump of his spark at the endearing sight of a happily surprised Optimus.

“It’s the only thing of me I have to keep you company with while I return to my work.”

A very sad excuse of a thing, too. The Prime deserved riches and recognition, as any consort of a lord high protector of the lands should… Future consort.

Optimus felt otherwise.

“Thank you, Megatron. Thank you... I... I only wish there was time for me to give you a piece of me in return.”

Megatron blinked.

That was as blatant a reciprocation -and an explicit one- as Megatron had ever gotten from him before.

He struggled not to entertain any implications -not wishing to speculate on behalf of the delicate little civil frame in his company- for all of 2 nano kliks before he looked again and saw the hooded optics and lazy smirk on the other’s faceplate, condemning his innocent efforts entirely.

Megatron’s engines roared to life over the drum of construction work.

“Yes, right- We’ll- We will have to make sure we… plan accordingly for- for… that in the future. Won’t we?” Was he talking fast? He felt like he was talking fast.

Why was his temper gauge popping up?

“Be safe on your flight.” Optimus replied coyly, clearly feeling similarly swept up in all the thick, unexplored emotions of this incredibly raw encounter.

“Flying is second nature.” Megatron said dumbly, belatedly realizing he was missing the point.

“You be careful working yourself into stasis.” He deflected.

“Thankless, arduous work is my second nature. Well- mostly thankless.” Optimus held up the jagged mess of crystals in his hand. Probably already setting a challenge for himself for how quickly he could decipher it.

Megatron excused himself with a bow of his helm before he could ruin their perfect moment by asking for a kiss farewell.

———————————

“The last time jou ordered a sensible retreat vas when, Lord Megatron? Jou our too certain of jour own abilities.”

“I’m certain of the power of my mechs, Strika. I know that they can push through, that is all.”

“If they succeed with even half the injuries they sustained in the first strike, there is the matter of the Sepertines’ waiting with a third wave of missiles on the other side.”

“That is of no consequence, Shockwave.”

“They’re quite familiar with our biology, now. These missiles are loaded with infectious rust.”

“That is of consequence...” Megatron backtracked, finally losing some traction in the midst of his genius strategizing between all his officers’ complaining. Then he smirked.

“But they’re not strong enough to weather an onslaught from Blackout.”

“Zhey are vaiting for a clear path through.” Strika added, the mech in question under her direct command.

Megatron paused a moment to consider the brooding seeker in the corner of the war room, still pouting from their earlier… disagreement.

“You’ve been too quiet.” Megatron scowled.

“Nothing to say about Blackout leading the air strike?”

Starscream sneered.

“Other than he lacks half the intelligence of the average idiot Decepticon? Nothing.”

“You don’t want the position?” Megatron pushed. He thought he caught an optic roll from Strika out of the corner of his eye.

Starscream shrugged.

“I don’t envy him for being sent head first into that mess.”

“We sent scouts.” Megatron assured.

“Before the Sepertines exposed their artillery was capable of chemical warfare. Who knows what’s waiting for us? And besides, Blackout is too slow for this ‘position’- if you can even call it that.”

“There hasn’t been an opportunity to break through their shielding and send a tunneler.” Shockwave felt the need to say in defense of his master.

Strika had rather watch him struggle, though, as she had said many times before that he deserved it for keeping Starscream in their ranks.

“It doesn’t matter.” Megatron insisted, confident in his abilities, as much as he was any other mech in his military that wasn’t blasted Starscream.

“He may be slower, but far sturdier than your flimsy, tinfoil wings-“

“What the frag is tinfoil?!” Starscream screeched.

“Blackout will go, and he will prepare the field prior to our own heavy artillery coming through. And be commended for it.”

Starscream looked disgusted that Megatron would insinuate it was a feat worth praising, Blackout playing frontline pawn. He was damn hard to kill, made exclusively to cleanse the battle field in every unnerving sense of the word. But the point was that he would be serving as nothing more than fresh fodder.

Starscream would never.

“If it worries you so,” Megatron began slowly, aware Starscream only ever worried about where she could find her next opportunity to stab him.

“Lugnut can go assist him.”

Shockwave began to furiously type something into his wrist monitor then. Calculating, doubting.

“And Lugnut can offer any functional support?”

“Jealous? At a time like this?” Megatron glowered over the little holograph of Shockwave’s increasingly convoluted catalogue of percentages. Curious about existence of the ‘Visits to Cybertron’ one.

“You’re aware of his ability to eviscerate life for miles, aren’t you?”

“You’re aware he’ll be too slow to doge the missiles, aren’t you?” Starscream whisper-hissed. Megatron ignored her.

“He’ll make short work of them in the time it’ll take them to recover from Blackout’s first strike.”

“I stay well informed of our troops, my Liege.” Shockwave amended. Strika rolled her optics again.

“Only, you see, the Sepertines will have a counterstrike ready from the oceanfront. With an abundance of water, and their bodies adapted over eons to their wet environment, they have the advantage. Who do you have in mind for a naval assault?” If anyone.

They didn’t exactly thrive under thousands of tonnes of water hindering their every movement. Nor did their weapons.

Before he could blunder his way through that, Megatron’s commlink crackled to life. He checked the caller, expecting to find that it was Straxus on his last leg and suffering deliciously, then suddenly went rigid.

“I... have to take this.” He told the room.

Starscream didn’t even bother to make a stir of things. Throwing her arms up and leaving them all with a huff.

Among the curious optics, Megatron caught Strika giving him a look, and for once in his lifecycle, it had him feeling rather sheepish. Struggling to make his suddenly dry intake form the necessary words.

“Excuse me a moment.” He finally managed, as her optical ridge hiked ever higher, and turned away.

He cleared his throat tubing and put on his best air of confidence.

“Optimus-“

“Megatron, I love it! It’s so beautiful, I love it! No one has ever given me a flower before! It’s, its- I can’t even say!”

Megatron felt a pressure rise in his tanks, filling up his abdomen.

“Oh... yes...”

Optimus had called to gush at him.

He meekly tried to return his enthusiasm.

“I... Right then…”

“My first flower! Never thought I’d be excited about one of those.” Being infinitely less romantic than Megatron.

“And this one I can keep forever! It’s perfect- I- I just... Thank you!”

“Right... it’s... it’s yours forever.” Megatron said absently, bringing a palm up to cover his optics and squeeze. Feeling oddly exposed all at once.

“You...like it then?”

“Yes, he likes it, jou idiot!” Strika hissed from somewhere over his shoulder, having immediately become invested.

“Vhy else vould he be calling to tell jou so!”

Megatron was still uncharacteristically surprised to hear that Optimus might want the thing for that long. For forever.

The shock of it had him working his glossa before he had even fully processed it,

“I was hoping to gift you something that might represent my... connection... with you.”

Of all the things to say, he definitely shouldn’t have chosen that, because a simple puzzle sculpture -made of Earth’s precious rhodium, the insipid planet the civil bot so loved- was only as good as its value on said planet for its parts in pieces. The rest of its worth was purely sentiment.

He owed Sumdac exactly one favor for acquiring the stuff... but if Optimus thought a pretty, shiny flower was a flattering enough sentiment to gush at him for, and in a tone Megatron had never heard him use before -even in his sweetest dreams- then damn the mortification of having to ask him for it. It was beyond worth it, and he’d already reaped the reward for his efforts.

Optimus sounded happy, and Megatron couldn’t help feeling the effects of that- trying to ignore his erratic sparkbeat.

“I wish you weren’t shipped off on some excursion of the masses.” Optimus said then, tone suddenly playful.

Megatron felt another stupid, loopy smile grace his lip plates at that.

“Oh?” He murmured, helm dipped and hip cocked.

“Yeah...” Optimus… Optimus purred.

Megatron swallowed.

“I’d like to… thank you… But you’re all the way over there.”

“O-Oh?”

“Idiot!” Strika snarled.

“Tell him jou vill have him just as soon and swiftly as jour victory! Civil bots love grand gestures!”

“Tell him you will accept his appreciation with more of your own.” Shockwave whispered at her side. Unfortunately invested in his lord’s blossoming love life, too, now that’d he’d bared witnessed to his master appearing so happily flustered.

The first time he’d ever seen such a look on him before.

Megatron wished he had more control of his spark to focus on dealing with that, than he did with Optimus’ lovely full lips speaking such sweet promises directly into his processor.

“I’ll- I’ll have to stop by again soon.” Megatron answered, ignoring them both.

Strika took a moment to process this.

“Jou had us halt our attack to stop by and hinder him vith jour pitiful attempts?” She growled low and dangerous.

“And jou didn’t even get behind his panel-“

“It was necessary!” Megatron hissed back.

Shockwave pulled up that holograph on his wrist monitor again.

“The law of probability. We make a frivolous trip back to Cybertron every 3 deca-cycles to meet Lord Megatron’s quota. Scientifically speaking, it’s bound to happen the next time.”

Strika chose to ignore most of that.

“….Which quota is zhat now?”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Megatron sneered at the pair, finally having the sense to leave the room with his scarlet faceplates.

“You sound busy,” Optimus murmured, and there was a strange clattering sound on the other end as Optimus shifted himself straighter, embarrassed to have complicated things. Ever the sweetspark.

“I’ll let you go-“

“No, no! You have my full attention now.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Optimus said shyly. Likely turning a pretty color on the other side of the line. Megatron should be more disappointed with himself for mirroring it.

“Please do.” He purred, fighting his desire to hide his face into something soft.

“Talking to you is a much better use of my time, after all.... I’m glad you called.”

Megatron worried his lower lip, considering the cons of expanding on that thought and revealing himself as a mech so uncertain and unconvinced of his own courting abilities to the very bot he’d been steadily pledging his devotion to. The bot he was supposed to remain a steadfast, unshakable beacon of strength for- not one that was so terribly flustered over a little easy flirting.

But this was Optimus. This was the compassionate, genuine mech he’d come to find was always more pleasantly surprised by Megatron’s company when it was the honest sort.

He could afford to be vulnerable for a moment, just for him- though he had to take a page out of Optimus’ own book and remind himself that he was no coward for doing so. Despite what Decepticon rhetoric would say.

Optimus had been right as always when he’d said that being vulnerable took a kind of strength that was depthless and determined.

“I’m glad you like your gift.” Megatron continued after a moment. Ready to be vulnerable.

“I… wasn’t sure how it would be received.”

“Are you kidding?! I haven’t been given much of anything before. Energon goodies and extra fuel, maybe... This was so, uh... s-sweet.”

Megatron felt his chest swell again, this time with pride in his ability to provide for his potential mate. And pride, too, for his courageous mate’s willingness to be vulnerable with him.

Though, maybe it wasn’t so much a matter of him being a ‘potential’ mate anymore.

“I’ve been thinking,” Optimus began, as if magically reading his processor. Rather attuned to the larger mech these days.

“I-I’m not sure how you’d feel about this... You’re a very busy, um... leader... and I’m just a maintenance bot-“

“You are more precious than Primus has seen fit to tell you.” Megatron said seriously, smile slipping. As if Optimus would be able to see it and Megatron’s deep offense at his mate being disrespected from over the line.... ‘Potentinal’ mate...

Optimus snorted. Quite familiar with Megatron’s protectiveness of him in regards to his -apparently suffering- self esteem, and continued on. Thinking all of it a wasted effort.

“Well, to be clear, you said you wanted to give me something that reminds me of our connection.”

Optimus agreeing to use the word ‘connection’ added another layer to their conversation. Making it feel much less like passive flirting and that is was now more imperative than ever that Megatron answer each every question he had with the utmost seriousness.

Instead of succeeding to so do, Megatron sucked a breath in, forgetting to release it, and stood there frozen out in the corridor. Looking every bit as foolish as Starscream often insisted.

“Yes...” He simply mumbled. Fighting valiantly to force his composure to return.

“I wanted s-something, *ahem*, something that you could have forever.”

“Right.” Optimus was definitely smiling on the other end, and Megatron could hear it.

His tank flipped.

“So, ah, would you like to make this... more official? Like… a ‘forever thing’?

“Yes-“ Megatron had to steady himself on shaky pedes after tripping over thin air when he hadn’t even been moving, and reset his vocalizer for a third time that evening. Oh, how he wished he had been the one courageous enough to sweep the other mech off his stabilizers and pose that question.

Shyness was very unbecoming of him.

He was about to correct himself and try again for a more assertive, active role in this precious moment when Optimus spoke again, sounding much more like his old, calmer self now.

“Good- I’m getting started on the Ritus, then.”

Megatron promptly shut his mouth. Having a single nanoklik to wonder when exactly he’d gone through the Intimacy and Disclosure sects preluding the Ritus with him.

He supposed he’d shown his Devotion quite prominently in his mission to eliminate every conceivable threat in the universe to Optimus and their newly rejoined Cybertron (though mostly for Optimus).

But they were still missing some crucial components for its completion.

And then his stalling brain module -lingering on a power saving mode, after all the Energon in his lines had run too hot earlier when he’d allowed himself to get so worked up- switched on again, and his engines roared to life as realization punched its way through the exhausted thing.

Official? Ritus? As in... Conjunxing?

Was he just proposed to-

“You’ll need me to officiate my side of the courtship.” Optimus said then, throwing Megatron’s processor for an inescapable loop.

“Come home to Cybertron. You’ll need my mark- I want to do this right.”

‘Do this right’?

Megatron nearly collapsed from under his boiling core temperature, heating him up into a dizzied mess.

Optimus did nothing in halves, he had come to find.

Oh, Spark…

He knew he surely looked a fool, clutching at his abdomen with a clawed hand. Leaning all his weight against a wall to keep himself upright, trying to make sense of things moving at light speed, and faster still.

“I… I will.” He said simply. It didn’t take an ounce of thought to, his instincts driving him towards what ever direction was necessary for him to acquire his mate’s mark. That was all that mattered.

“Just as soon as I can.” Now would be a good time actually. He’d look and feel better going to war with Optimus’ sharp denta having punctured his throat plate.

“Be safe, please.” That sweet, soft voice had made its return, turning the inside of Megatron’s belly to a pool of liquid heat.

“I will.” He said even less convincingly then. His helm felt stuffy, and his frame felt weak. He wished his mate was there to hold him together.

Though Optimus was far more adept at reducing him to nothing more than a gooey puddle.

“I know you will, honey. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Megatron swallowed thickly. He could do without the ridiculous organic nicknames. Honest, he could.

———

Spelling and grammar errors for day

Cute Tfa -earth bound and abandoned- Megop things:

•Optimus is finding he somehow prefers Blitzwing and Lugnut’s company to Megatron’s obnoxious aft a lot of the time

•Optimus has zero self-preservation when it comes to pissing off Megatron, and will question and interrogate and push him at every opportunity

•Optimus refers to Megatron’s romantic-ness as a ‘character flaw’

•Subsequently, Optimus (stiff as a board and impossible to make swoon over nonsense poetry and daring acts of romanticism that could get Megatron killed) is rarely moved by Megatron’s theatrics, and more so prefers the aftermath of a pouty, disappointed Megatron when his attempts fail

•Starscream thinks this is hilarious and tries to befriend the Autobot for future overthrowing reasons (Optimus is too loyal though)

•Optimus thinks of Megatron as ‘just a mech under all that armor’ (because he’s seen him and his legendary status crumble by his own hand) and is becoming steadily more convinced he isn’t the disease immune, wholly uncrushable, worlds eating powerhouse he actually is

•This leads to opportunities to thrust his personal, overly-cautious parameters upon him (one’s that should never apply to gladiatorial warlords) and embarrasses Megatron further when he shouts at him to ‘follow the carefully constructed safety procedures’ he has in place for all his crew mates. (Newsflash little Prime…)

•(this is Optimus’ love language, Megatron eventually realizes)

•Optimus will yell about Megatron’s PTSD in front of his own army to get him to go see Ratchet for a checkup, but this stops working when Megatron’s troops speak openly about PTSD like it’s all part of the Standard Decepticon Experience and is totally an ok thing to ignore

•Megatron will bring up Optimus’ own PTSD and further ruin his hypocritical attempts to control his lover into better mental health and a happier lifestyle

•Optimus can drink him under the table, but only because he’s built a high tolerance to drinking absolute tasteless, garbage, Academy booze and Megatron would never

•Optimus can not act normal when Megatron does the Hip Touching Thing ™ on him

•(At any given moment, Megatron will grasp one of Op’s hips by sheer subconscious impulse, hauling him close to his side. Then fails to connect it with the wild, biting attitude Optimus exhibits towards him in response)

•(Boy is flustered and confused about liking soft touches from a person he can’t believe genuinely likes him, even tho he’s his literal boyfriend) (and Megatron’s a possessive, touchy romantic so that’s nice) (definitely nobody ever gets hurt)

•Optimus nitpicked Megatron’s idea of a first date despite secretly loving it (because snarky ass Megatron can’t be allowed to have nice things)

Then accidentally cried later in the date when things got too real and ruined the evening probably

———

•Megatron thinks a lot about stepping on Optimus when they argue

•Thankfully he does not and simply dies instead- or usually just runs off in a huff to do something questionably ethical to soothe his nerves ‘til he can continue arguing with the righteous little sass machine. Feeding the endless cycle of ‘reasons that Optimus yells at Megatron’

•Megatron has been scratched in the face before while Optimus was wrestling his sword away after threatening a human, and Optimus never apologized for it, and Megatron won’t stop bringing it up

•Megatron does more insidious things than he usually would to be on the other end of Optimus’ ceaseless fussing. (He is clingy and attention seeking in the worst way possible)

•Megatron will not let him be a big spoon. Ever.

•Megatron also has zero self-preservation about pissing Prime off

•In retaliation to most of his sassing, Megatron will freely advertise what a masochist Optimus is for liking how nasty and awful his boyfriend is in front of anyone willing to listen. This includes Sumdac

•Megatron frequently steals Op’s axe to make unauthorized adjustments to it

•Megatron doesn’t get jealous of anything or anyone, because if he ever wanted something, he would just pull himself up and make it so. Take what he deserves.

…..But then Optimus happened to him, and now he feels threatened by his own reflection trying to eye up the pretty little firetruck

•Megatron has incinerated all damning evidence that he’s been writing sonnets just about Op’s audial fins

•Megatron will threaten Prime with hand holding in front of his subordinates (an unspeakable sin in stuffy ass Optimus’ rulebook of things good leaders should avoid: showing feelings)

•Megatron chickened out during the first kiss, because Prime fed him a random compliment, and Megatron can only handle brainwashed pontificating, not genuine adoration

•He had the audacity to blame it on Prime’s siren going off and startling them both, though

—

•These two do not respect each other, but they are somehow down bad

•This changes when they find their way off Earth and Megatron has more room to prove he can prioritize Optimus’ needs to his own ‘I must be a bastard today’ addiction

Ambiguous Ceasefire AU

Everyone’s favorite trope- Megatron gets high in the medbay and flirts with Optimus ✨

(I cannot proof read this or I will die)

————————————-

“It’s processor damage, Ratchet-“

“No, it’s processor lag. Stop fretting, Prime. He shouldn’t of been drinking that slag with an injury like that.”

“It’s a common practice, stumpy. Decepticons do not have ze luxury of pain patches jou hoity-toity Autobots do.”

“This is peace time, Strika. He could have waited for me to get to him after he comm’ed for me! Overcharge interferes with medication.”

“Please don’t raise your voice, Ratchet. He’s likely very sensitive.”

Megatron made a pathetic noise of agreement. Though it was too great a chore to open his optics and see for himself who was yelling back and forth at one another over his helpless, prone form, he could at least summon the strength to wave his servo in a silent plea to be spared.

These bots sounded far too over involved, and Megatron just wanted to sleep…

He shifted to find his bearings and a tremor ran through him as a searing sensation nestled deep in his abdominal plate screamed at him in protest. He conceded with a hiss, falling back against the padded slab beneath him.

“Hey! Stop moving!”

Megatron flinched at the sudden shouting.

“Let him.” Said the thick accent.

“He has to learn his lesson.”

“But it’s not his fault- you said he was trying to numb the pain.”

‘Not his fault’.

If Megatron’s glossa weren’t impossibly heavy and he had a slice of a processor left to think with, he knew he’d be quite inclined to chat with the more forgiving of the three voices above him to help him make sense of things.

He liked having a sensible mech around.

“He’s an idiot, but he was also desperate, you two.”

Megatron took it back.

Sleep was clearly not an option anymore, nor was a moment’s peace of the burning hole in his tank keeping him on high alert.

Through sheer force of will -and the need to assert himself, especially as an incapacitated warlord- Megatron cracked an optic open to address the spinning room at large.

In seconds, the colliding world of colors and far too bright lights came into a hazy focus, morphing into a sight more arresting than his first view of the Iacon tower in 4 millennia.

Before him stood a stunningly vivid mech, painted in blues and reds, silvers and yellows, and peering down at him with such captivation.

Shielding him from the blinding light in his optics with his curiously cocked helm.

Or perhaps, Megatron thought, that was concern etched into his smooth features- rather unsure of how to behold the colossal mech laid before him.

Megatron had built an empire with… ‘physical persuasion’ and his dashing charisma, and this new recruit was clearly feeling out of his depths at the sight of his glorious leader. Even in the pathetic state he was in -which Megatron could tell by his aching joints.

He was simply too magnificent a mech.

“Megatron?” The young recruit spoke his name, and in an instant of clarity, as Energon rushed to Megatron’s helm -and with it, the euphoric tendrils of some unnamed emotion- Megatron realized in wonder and awe that this was no recruit he’d ever seen before- because the blue mech wasn’t one.

“….M-Megatron?”

He was a guardian sent by Primus. That was a halo above his angled helm.

“A holy architect of the AllSpark.” The helicopter murmured in a hushed voice. Lying there in worship.

“You are a messenger of Primus?”

Wide optics stared back at him.

“No- Megatron, you’re not dead.” That little billed helm shook.

“This is Cybertron.”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s dead and gone to the well of AllSparks.” Ratchet mumbled somewhere off to his side. Dialing in another boost of sensor blockers to rush Megatron’s sensor net and effectively muddle his already vacant processor further.

With the new surge of pleasure came another ping of inspiration, as Megatron’s sharp denta gleamed and curled back into the first genuine smile he’d fostered in ages.

The little angel looked at him, terrified.

“You are a messenger, here to give me strength to stand and weather these injuries to fight another day. I can feel myself returning to my full glory from just your presence here.”

“That would be the cortical patch.” Ratchet spoke again.

“You’re high. Feels good, don’t it?”

The angel began to shake his helm more frantically at Megatron’s blatant leering.

“I’m not a… a… u-um. I’m…”

“When I raise my sword again, fair Virgo,” Megatron’s rumbling vocalizer broke with the roughness of recharge attempting to take over him.

“Know that it is you I pray to victory for.”

Laughter burst throughout the little makeshift medbay as Strika heaved her vents empty. Ratchet struggled similarly.

Megatron did not mind the boisterous -frankly bothersome in this moment of rare beauty- laughter, as the angel’s blue faceplates turned kissably red all at once because of it.

Perhaps he was shy and unused to the thunderous sounds of war. The battlefield was always full of raucous mechs, and untouched by the appearance of a creation so pure and precious, did not know how to shelter one from it.

Megatron attempted to reach up and pacify the frightened thing by freckling each cheekplate with a gentle press of his lips to them, but found himself immediately knocked back by the weight of his own unresponsive limbs.

“Megatron!” The little mech reached out and grabbed his paw of a hand, barely able to grip one massive digit, squeezing for some kind of confirmation that Megatron was ok.

He was out, though. Giving in to the impressive cocktail of blockers Ratchet had calculated he’d fall victim to several minutes ago.

The laughter continued until Strika was on her knees on the floor, scrambling to string a sentence together.

“It’s processor lag…” Optimus reminded them.

———————————

Megatron had been subjected to the recording Strika had taken ten times over -or what little he could make of it over her deafening cackling. The wretched glitch.

Why he hadn’t permanently demoted her right then and there with his fusion cannon was entirely Lugnut’s fault, with his endless litany of loyalties Megatron needed to take into account.

He had to admit, while he couldn’t see most of what he and Optimus were up to by the end of Strika’s wheezing attack, he could not deny that that was his voice on the other end of the recording, promising his spark away to his former rival and crooning over him like he was the one bleeding out on a medberth.

Not that Megatron would be worried if he were…

At least their entire Earth teams hadn’t bared witness to the display, as they had when it’d been Blitzwing and Bumblebee accidentally confessing to one another. And that had been fairly explicit in its presentation, too.

So it could have been worse…

Optimus, with his flushed face, wasn’t looking at him like he shared that opinion anymore, though….

————

Actually, Optimus is gay as fuck right now and he wants to do that again please, but he doesn’t think he deserves it, you know how his insecurities are

HALSKEJE EKEKEK

Autobots join the ‘Nemesis exploration crew’ post war and their dOmEsTiC aTtRiBuTeS are completely forgotten about while issuing them war mech upgrades

Tldr; civil mechs have Energon reserves that war machines don’t

We do not shame bodies with big boobas (or tiny boobas) We must celebrate them 🥹🤲

(This is a personal assault on myself, because I like to imagine they all have these and Blitzwing is among those assigned some of the biggest, but Animated has always been the special exception when it comes to differences in species between the factions, so forbidden inspiration took hold)

@fluffythecthulhu said they wanted a fic in a comment under my Mother’s Day Megop art. I’m not sure how serious you were, but I still made one! It’s short for once, but it got embarrassing fast.

Thank you for the sweet comment, btw 💕🦑

TFA Carrier Optimus Megop

Warning in the tags✨

-/——————-

Optimus hadn’t touched his rations all cycle- more concerning still, he hadn’t fueled properly in a deca-cycle. He complained more about feeling nauseous or on the constant brink of downright purging than he ever did use that snarky mouth of his to consume his Energon.

Megatron had grown used to him neglecting himself in ways he formerly thought him too sensible to make the mistake of. Choosing to ignore fueling in lieu of finishing a communication relay at least a thousand lightyears out of range to reconnect a straying ship- which could take hours, where every precious minute counted.

Strika had ordered him not to work so hard to salvage the fodder that either purposely veered off their course, or were too stupid to read a set of coordinates correctly. She would insist that it was what they deserved for acting so foolishly.

And every time, Optimus would argue that that was no reason to leave them there to suffer both the chilling isolation of lost space or such a flippant branding from their superior. There was always some reason, he insisted, for their severed connection. There was always some argument he would make that Strika and the other high command -or any average Decepticon in close range willing to insert their opinion upon hearing the conversation- were being too harsh.

She’d leave in a huff, Optimus would resume working himself to death, and his rations would go untouched for another hour straight.

Megatron regretted assigning a brat with such an unprejudiced, smart little mouth a position in communications.

Unfortunately, Optimus’ abhorrent lack of charisma was unexplainably magnetizing…somehow. And he was by the book and strict in regulations, making him a fantastic -brainwashed- soldier to trust to carry out an order. His dedication to everything he was tasked with, as well as that odd charm, assured Megatron near immediately that he was the best choice for the job.

Optimus would always do what he was told and do it to a fault, so long as no one else suffered unfairly for it. It was perfect for Megatron who was looking for a mech willing to communicate with both halves of the reunited factions. Especially since no one else could be convinced to take the job. Those that were willing were sorely lacking the skills to delegate, and so it went to Optimus not a mere three cycles after his reassignment to the Nemesis exploration crew.

That meant having to deal with the sassy bot more than Megatron would have liked to- at least once a cycle, in fact.

Things…. Only developed from there.

It wasn’t Megatron’s fault- contrary to what Starscream insisted otherwise regarding fragile little civil frames, and their easily overwhelmed, shy nature. Never daring to make the first move and take up so much space in the affairs of their large counterparts.

As Decepticons, thus far, hadn’t the single most qualm with inserting themselves into the matters of their new, tiny crew mates.

But truly, it wasn’t Megatron’s fault. He was not the instigator.

It was the fault of limited worthwhile conversation for so many millennia and the equally refreshing opportunity to have an unbiased presence in his life once more. One, unlike Strika, who wasn’t adverse to talking about subjects unrelated to warfare and maneuvers. One that was keen to show Megatron respect as his newly appointed commander, though not to defer to his every whim and judgement and roll over for him in niceties.

It made their time together less like the chore of keeping basic communication with his personnel, and more a thing of thrill and fancy.

Megatron was having fun again.

More fun than he’d ever had attempting to destroy the mud ball planet his new officer so loved. Who knew?

Of course, it…. Quickly turned into something else….

Which was more or less ignorable for a time, since both parties knew best that they would benefit from an aloofness and detachment while resuming their duties. Keeping to formalities anyplace outside the berth.

It helped that Megatron had deluded himself into thinking he actually meant it.

But their coupling had admittedly lead to this new current issue Megatron was having. The matter of his once dependable -brainwashed- soldier refusing to feed himself, and Megatron caring a lot about it…

None of that was to say how unsettling Optimus’ sudden bouts of stasis were.

Whether the mech was walking peacefully on his way to deliver his reports, or merely sitting in on a barely mandatory -but damned if Optimus wasn’t going to be there with bells on- conference Shockwave routinely made Civil bots sit through on cross-build interactivity regulations, the little mech was always seen falling into recharge. Cheekplate propped up in one palm or with pedes propped against the table.

It was horribly unsettling… Horribly. Had Megatron mentioned that?

Strika said he was paying too much attention to the colorful thing (and chalking it up to that). Somehow oblivious to the scents still faintly permeating Megatron’s armor where little servos had held on to him tight the night prior.

He knew it was true all the same, that something was wrong with his former Prime.

Megatron blamed it on his extended workload, combined with the appalling lack of Energon he was consuming. But that theory only lasted for so long.

When even Ratchet was petitioning him on Optimus’ behalf to allow the firetruck to take a temporary leave, Megatron was certain this strange new behavior was something far more sinister than an overworked Officer.

This was… stressful. Worrying.

The space between them had grown much smaller over the vorns. Their relationship had significantly changed- whether Optimus shared that opinion with him or not.

Staying over in Megatron’s berth had become a much more frequent occurrence. As of a few cycles ago, a proper nest -normally a construction reserved for two settled mechs- had appeared, and was drenched in their combined scents to the point they left Megatron’s quarters each morning practically wearing the other out.

That was comforting, smelling the irritating aft everywhere he went throughout the day. Megatron didn’t want to lose that.

Was Optimus’ condition dire?

Was their time soon to be limited?

Would their bond nest come to unravel with the eventual loss of its imperative second occupant? Their time, was it to be cut so short so soon, fated by Primus as punishment for all his wrong doings?

They’d only just started sitting together in the command center when Megatron ushered him forward to give his report- finding him a place by his throne. On the armrest…

Was there to be no more late night rendezvous where Megatron graced him rare glimpses of his poetry and Optimus laughed at the absurdity of the writings?

Was he doomed to spend his entire functioning a solemn, bondless mech, now that he’d had a surprising and unforeseen taste of a partner worth sharing one with?

Was he to give up his dignity and dilute all their ship’s resources into traversing the galaxy for some impossible cure to safe his sickly lover?

Was he going to have to replace his only willing Communications Officer?

Optimus approached him in the middle of another one of these fantastical spirals on the bridge one evening, while Blitzwing stood awkwardly at his side, waiting patiently to be given his dismissal post debriefing.

To Megatron’s surprise, he looked more alert and awake, frankly, than he had in nearly two Earth months.

When he looked down at wide, frightened optics peering up at him with so much uncertainty and fear, Megatron dropped to one knee in an instant. Uncaring who was seeing such a display, when insanity had muddled his processor so throughly into thinking the worst of his last moments with this precious mech.

“Optimus, what ails you?” He crooned, trying to pacify the quivering thing. Barely able to resist grabbing ahold of him.

Optimus said nothing- could say nothing, as his throat tubing began to tighten.

Megatron looked at him so earnestly, so despairingly…. When had this change occurred? When had they begun to care so deeply for one another? So openly.

Optimus assumed the answer to that was sometime around the creation of the tiny passenger he was carrying that they had both been oblivious to- or else the little one couldn’t have ever come to be…

Megatron blinked worried, narrowed optics at him, just as that thought seemed to fully integrate itself into Optimus’ logic unit.

He…began to smile up at the towering mech. Though it vanished in the next instant with the realization that Optimus would need to explain his… ‘ailment’.

“Megatron, sir. I need to discuss… This isn’t about my reports…. Actually, I… It’s….”

“What is it?” His new commander urged him on. No longer able to keep large palms from encompassing his shoulders in a caress for every pair of curious optics on the bridge to see.

“No need for formalities, even here, Optimus. Just tell me what’s wrong- you haven’t been fueling.”

Optimus lost his courage -or ability- to speak then. As his mouth clamped shut again and his optics grew wet, pointed finials began to droop down his helm. Clearly still frightened by something.

But whatever it was, he could always tell Megatron.

They were lovers now, destined to share a nest and a sparkbeat- Megatron would have it no other way. Regardless of what it was going to cost him to lead the excursion for Optimus’ sickness’s cure.

“You can tell me anything, beloved. Anything at all. Speak to your spark’s content, I shall listen-“

“Should I leave for zhis?” Blitzwing murmured cautiously from behind, still waiting to be released after the last time he’d been punished for breaking formation early.

“No matter what it is, speak it to me now, Optimus, and I shall tend to the matter however is necessary.” Megatron continued to soothe his little Sweetspark.

“I will not fail you- I will not leave you behind-“

“Even if it’s really bad…?” Optimus burst out.

“…And pretty permanent?”

Megatron blinked. Optimus swallowed, maintaining optic contact through sheer force of will and…. Hope?

There was a strange glimmer in his eye, and Megatron, no matter how keenly he tried to chase it as it bounced around the other mech’s shimmering optics, he couldn’t discern its meaning.

The smaller mech’s question, however, was easily answerable.

“Nothing at all could stand in the way of my devotion to you, Optimus.” Clawed digits carefully curled around strong, scarlet servos.

“Now that I have you, I shall not release you to any unkind fate or the malevolent will of gods.”

Besides an ever present amusement for his mate’s dramatics, Optimus looked much more settled and ready to spill everything then and there. His optics losing a great deal of the uncertain edge to them.

But still….

“Can’t stress enough how bad this is…”

“I should leave, right? I von’t be thrown in ze sparring room vith Sixshot again for failure to be properly discharged if I do, ja?”

“You encompass my entire being, little Autobot. You fill me with meaning and faith, dare I say it! Faith that there is a life far better than one fighting for a meager home on Cybertron once more… You promise me a home with spirit and life. You are my home, Optimus.”

Optimus, for his part, had lost much of the color to his derma that made it blue. Shades of searing red painted high above the arch of each cheek, filling out his round face nicely with a sweet dusting that faded seamlessly where it began to spread.

Megatron was enraptured. In love.

Optimus was enraptured, too, with the severity of his words. Megatron’s promises to him.

No mech had ever promised themselves to Optimus like this- he hadn’t even bothered to entertain the thought he’d see such a thing in his lifetime. And if that was how Megatron felt, it made much more sense how their extra passenger had came to be.

“Ratchet told me to triple my fuel rations… He put me on mineral additives and a stasis increase.”

Megatron blinked slowly. Thinking that didn’t sound anything like a debilitating disease he was about to have to fight god for. That sounded like he was treating Optimus for something else, actually… but….

“Why would he do that?” Megatron asked with his barely functional glossa.

“Ah- I really zhink I should leave for zhis!”

Optimus cheeks managed to burn brighter as, finally, he lost the battle to keep Megatron’s gaze. Blushing faceplate turning into the hollow between Megatron’s shoulder and collar.

The bigger mech didn’t fight him, finding himself in something of a daze as well.

“Um…. Well…. Ah….” Optimus attempted to explain. Poorly.

Megatron tried to focus back on the blushing bot when he lifted watchful…. glittering optics back up at him.

“Sorry, I’m still here!?”

“I’m carrying.” Optimus murmured. Cheeks pleasantly warming for reasons other than horrific embarrassment under Megatron’s powerful gaze.

“Carrying?” Megatron echoed back in something less like a whisper, and more like a string of broken syllables being carried off by the nonexistent wind.

“Wow…” said Blitzwing.

And also,

~Whirr~

“Straight shootin’, Tex!”

Optimus watched the emotions morph across his new Sire’s faceplate. Watched his utter confusion change into absolute delight, then pride. A pride himself to have been able to provide, a pride to have found himself such a perfect mate- with whom he had made such a perfect sparkling with.

And finally awe- no… Reverence. Like Optimus was a god amongst mortals, complete with a glow and this holy essence about him, as Megatron stared in blissful silence at the place in Optimus’ gestation tank where it would soon fill with a sizable bitlet, likely to take after his or her’s sire.

Now Megatron understood. That ‘hope’ he’d seen in his love before, it was an instinctual faith in his new carrier that Megatron would be proud. That he would be loyal and strong and provide.

Well, his hope was not misplaced- Megatron would surpass all others as sire!

Megatron reached down and settled a hand over the ridges of Optimus’ otherwise perfectly flattened grill. Soon, his body would change, quite drastically, in fact.

Hard edges would soften, the heavy duty armor making up most of his abdominal plating would part and reconstruct to allow for room for the protoform to grow. Strong, healthy pleats in his armor below his eventual ‘bump’ would aid in the support of his growing frame.

And inside, the sparkling would turn about happily at the thrum of their Sire’s sparkbeat close by- as there was no doubt in Optimus’ mind after Megatron’s words that they would never be parted again.

Which would only become an issue anytime his doctor attempted to check on the sparkling’s progress and Megatron’s (more than adequate) donations of raw materials.

The ex-warlord, and frankly feral gladiator, would not stand for another to touch his expectant mate.

Which made Blitzwing’s right as the new Sire’s witness -some strange, apparently credible Decepticon law- to survive a hand to the carrier’s belly to feel for the sparkling’s pulse every now and again all the more surprising.

Optimus couldn’t even be angry with the big brute when he condemned his lover with child to their nest for the foreseeable future- not even on Ratchet’s order.

It was the first time any bot had felt so passionately about him before… and primitive coding in Optimus’ core couldn’t help but encourage him to defer to the Sire. Orbit, kicking and bouncing away the cycle inside his gestation tank, didn’t seem to mind either.

——————

I could not proof read this the way you deserved me to- every day is like a rush to survive, now that summer’s here.

You’re always so kind when you comment, though, @fluffythecthulhu 💕✨thank you!!

It’s my slutty slutty birthday today ((Full on Twitter))

These Cons still don’t know how to court civil mechs. Let’s give the Decepticon boys an A for effort tho

This is the first time that I draw they in the “style” of TFP and I like it

Happy Valentines Day

TFA Streamer AU

After being expelled from the Academy, Optimus left for neutral space with what little possessions & credits he had.

He’s able to gain a job on a courier/transport ship as extra servos & a quality checker.

The crew happen to be quite close knit & like to stream while cruising between jobs. Both for the extra credits & to pass the time.

Optimus joins in on the group streams at the start as Orion. He’s an instant hit due to his tactical skills & cute personality.

Due to how caring he is, he is unofficially assigned as the groups dad/little brother.

Streaming is very regulated in Autobot territory, quelling any of Optimus’s fears about Sentinel or the Elite Guard finding his new happiness.

Sentinel thinks he’s dead or in an unpleasant job due to the lack of information on him.

However many outer territories & some inner colonies that are considered ‘unimportant’ are able to get away with watching these streams. Including the repair crew.

The Cassettes, specifically Rumble & Frenzy, discover the streams & slowly introduce them Soundwave & the other Decepticons on the Nemesis.

Megaton is a tier 3 sub to ‘Orion’.

Crew:

Optimus ‘Orion’: streams battle sims, cooking/baking, chill wholesome games, & just chatting.

Unknown Seeker: streams cosmetics (forcing the crew to take care of their looks, Optimus secretly loves doing these), strategy games & just chatting.

Other crew: unknown

Group Streams: racing games, table top games, cards against cybertron, D&D, & reactions.

That’s all I got for now.

TFA Predacon Spy au:

At some point before functionalism & the Quintesson war ( I need to read up on tfa lore), Predacons were forced off Cybertron, to live amongst the stars.

They were able to find a suitable planet to make their new home. With the surrounding systems & planets being turned into colonies. They’re doing pretty well for themselves.

They like to send spies to Cybertron. Not for anything harmful to the Autobots or Decepticons, but to gauge if Cybertronians are ready to accept them back & live with them.

Optimus, Blurr, & maybe another, are the current spies on Cybertron. (They miss being able to fly)

Everything happens as canon until Archa 7, where it can go two ways.

1) Canon au:

Archa 7 happens as normal. Elita dies, Optimus becomes the head of the repair crew, the Allspark & the crash on Earth.

Here’s where it changes, when Sari uses her Key to revive it restores him to his ‘biped form’. Basically regular Optimus but with patterns, wings, horns, & a tail.

The crew don’t really know what to make of it but are quite curious. Ratchet believes the key may be corrupted before Optimus tells them the truth.

Due to how Predacons were treated in the past, Optimus tries to stay out of any unnecessary fights incase the Decepticons come looking for them.

He does, however, get involved with Lugnut & Blitzewings’ fight. Using his true form to breath lightning at them & scare the frag out of them.

Tbc…

2) Non-canon au:

Optimus uses his true form to save both Elita & Sentinel from the Energon explosion & spiders. They swear to secrecy.

Autobit High Command start an investigation into the events due to inconsistencies in their reports.

Sentinel reveals what truly happened, while also making the idea to go to Archa 7 Optimus’s, to ensure he stays in the academy. Elita beats the hell out of him for this. Leading to their non existent friendship.

Optimus is taken by the Autobot Science Devision for torture study.

Blurr is freaking out cause he is a close friend of Optimus’s & is afraid he’ll be found out too.

Optimus does escape but how has yet to be decided.

That’s all for now.

Guess who had another au…

TFA Scars AU:

After the trial & being kick out of the Academy (yes I’m starting here again), Optimus decides to pack up what little he has & make his way to neutral space.

On his way there, the convoy is attacked by slavers/pirates. Captured & sold, Optimus finds himself being used as both a Gladiator for the slavers entertainment & the warm up fight for the beasts other Gladiators face.

One day, as Optimus & several other ‘favourable’ Gladiators are being moved off world, their transport is attacked by a Decepticon patrol.

Using this opportunity, the Gladiators aid the Decepticons in slaughtering the slavers. Afterwards, the transport is towed to a nearby neutral planet where the slaves can get the help they need & the ship is stripped down for credits.

Optimus, like many others, is told that due to the extensive injuries & scaring his protoform has taken, he won’t be able to wear armour or anything other than the cloak he is provided.

Optimus is thankfully able to find work at the space port with a trading company as a quality checker.

It’s here where he meets a group of organics trading in metals & fabrics. Optimus gets along quite well with the Captain & crew, so they show him the fabrics they’re transporting to an organic planet.

Surprised at how the fabric feels & that it doesn’t affect his protoform, he makes an order for a crate with 5 different kinds of this ‘armourweeve’.

Time skip to when his order arrives. Once back at his apartment, Optimus sets about coming up with a way to create clothing specialised to a Cybertroian.

While his first attempts end up looking dreadful, he’s able to create a style that he finds comfortable, covers himself up & protects him.

With his new confidence from no longer feeling exposed, Optimus is able to move up in the ranks of the trading company. He also uses the fabrics he’s bought to create new styles for himself & the few friends he has.

Soon word gets out, other mechs & femmes with protoform scarring approach Optimus about his clothing & how they could procure some as well.

Soon enough Optimus has become a frequent customer of armourweeve importers & uses his spare time making clothing to help others like himself.

After a while (like 2 years earth time) Optimus is approached by the local hospital that helped him initially. They want to work with Optimus in creating prescription clothes for the various mechs & femmes they help.

Using the credits he’s gained from his promotions & a small amount from the hospital, Optimus is able to buy a building perfect for his ‘Boutique’. With an apartment on top, perfect for when he spends most of the night working.

The boutique becomes a hit, with mechs & femmes from all over the planet coming for their prescriptions or just to see if they could incorporate it with their armour.

Allowing Optimus to make enough credits that the prescriptions are kept free.

I have plans for Optimus to meet a Decepticon who was captured & needs armourweeve for an arm. Currently I’m thinking of Soundwave, Strika or Blitzwing.

Like the others I’ll update when I either have enough to make an update or when I finally get round to designing it.

My experience thus far

Cursed TFA doodles

Congrats on 1.5k & 2.5k @kusakichan15 you art is incredible.

I love your Soul Eater Au, so this DTIYS was the perfect opportunity to draw my favourite TFA ship.

My entry for @pastelpaperplanes DTIYS. I absolutely LOVE her Megop AUs, especially Thorns & Thrones. I hope you enjoy the piece.💛

Megop Week Day 1: Loyalty/Betrayal