#Scraphead moment

[hrokkall]

ULTRATOBER DAY 19 /// SENTRY

[PREVIOUS] 🧰 [NEXT]

EDIT: Good ending addendum by request of the ultrabrainrot server

#Ultrakill #Ultratober #Ultratober 2023 #Ultrakill Sentry #Swordsmachine #Okay this was kind of a mean one. Sorry Sentry I love you but not as much as I love dismemberment #Scraphead moment #Anyway mindflayer coming soon because I'm a day behind so I'm chewing through these like rats through electrical cables #Hrokkall sketch #ID in alt #EDIT: Bonus sketch added for funsies. Thank you ultrabrainrot server

[sososcareds]

you are cold, and i am sick.

blood is warm, you know. my burst fuel pipes spill it around you, my mechanical guts splayed over your dress, my shattered wings reflecting light like a stained glass window onto your unbroken camera lense.

like something starved, the heat of my demise leaks into your temperature sensors, my death fueling your life, your own fuel lines thrumming like a heartbeat where your metal chassis is at its thinnest.

a poetic, desperate, thrashing final stand. but a being built to protect could never stand against something built to destroy. each millimetre of hydraulic movement, programmed thought, all full of an unmatched hunger. unbested and unchallenged.

there is only so long something fueled by destruction can last. there is only so long it can hold itself together.

you are unbothered by this. it is as if you were waiting for the moment in which my body would cease to function. fiddling with the frayed and split wires at my creaking joints.

there is nothing after for the mechanical. we both know this. you choke up my warmth, relish the moment, watch me stutter out, and say your final goodbye.

and then you stand and walk away. no reason to stay with a broken pile of metal and wires and congealed blood.

fuel for the next scraphead to come by. fuel for the next load of laundry that will inevitably fail to rinse the rust brown stains from your impromptu funeral attire. fuel for nothing and no one.

the sun does not care if i am gone. i will stay warm until the night chill takes me away. and you will stay warm until there is nothing left of me.

i suppose, this is my end.

#theta--art #english homework technically #creative writing #ultrakill #v2 #mirage #i. guess...... #dont look too hard at this. i am not very good at english language

[onlineviolence]

pyrite and w

safe to say they don't like eachother

maybe when pyrite was still very reckless, orange and willing to kill others for no real reason (so. before it met v2), it crossed paths with w many times out of sheer bad luck

and w is confused. why. you're killing people but you're not even bothering to pick up the remains. look they're all mutilated now what can I do with this

and it's even MORE confused when pyrite turns a different color, stops attacking everything that moves and starts spending practically every moment with V2

like. this doesn't make sense either what why???

it sees pyre as irrational but skilled and dangerous (and also. dirty so much ash ewwww)

and also doesn't understand at all why pyre hasn't killed v2 or even tried like

WHY are you cuddling it its knuckleblaster r is RIGHT THERE

aand pyrite is definitely more than a little disgusted by W. she already finds scrapheads and the very idea of augmenting oneself with the parts of others (especially others you've killed) creepy so. w is like a walking uncanny valley

but she doesn't hate it. it's more of a sort of disgusted indifference

#w (oc) #pyrite #look at my words boy #they both think they're above the other but for different reasons #and also they both have gold parts that mean things #aaaand they're both like #I have changed irreversibly and cannot ever go back but in different directions #pyrite is grieving every mistake. w wants to keep going

[crystalconjunx]

So I'm a *bit* old school but could I suggest something with Jazz/Prowl? Maybe something soft or like, using safe words and respecting each other? And if they hold hands, I will cry. And also if one of them could get railed into a bed gasping the others name in a burst of righteous epiphany that ends in a tender kiss, that'd be cool too. Thanks!

"Jazz!" Prowl shouted, hands tied by silk-soft bindings as Jazz let his glossa do the talking. He loved the taste of his sparkmate — sweet from all the energon treats he always snuck him when no one else was looking. 

He gave Prowl's node one last lap before he pushed himself up and forward to lean over him and kiss him back into the bed. 

Prowl wasn't one to suffer the loss of his mouth easily, quickly wrapping his legs around his lover to grind his spike against his valve. 

"Easy, Prowler. I'm not done teasin' you just yet."

"You fragger." Prowl growled, but the heat was lost in his words when a sudden tweak to a door wing joint had him breaking into a loud moan.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay? You remember the safeword?" Jazz asked.

"Yes, it's Delta." Prowl answered, eagerly spreading his legs to allow for Jazz to maneuver closer.

Jazz let out a shaky vent at the sight before him. Primus, Prowl was gorgeous, but like this, all spread out and desperate just for him?

How could a mech be so lucky?

He pressed the tip of his spike to Prowl's valve and pushed in, marvelling at how tightly his sparkmate's valve always clenched around him. 

Prowl whimpered as Jazz pushed until they were hip to hip, then paused to make sure Prowl was properly adjusted.

Then he pulled out halfway and started a slow, almost teasingly gentle pace. Nothing drove Prowl mad quicker. He was already fighting against the bindings, trying hard to press his hips down against Jazz's to chase his spike, but with every movement Jazz pulled away. 

"Jazz!" Prowl whined. "Will you please frag me?"

"That's what I'm doing, sweetspark."

"Jazz, come on, go faster!" He begged. 

"Hmm…" Jazz hummed loudly before pulling out and leaving just the tip of his spike inside. "Nah." He said mischievously. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Tell me you love me." 

"Okay. I love you, Jazz."

"Wait, what?" Jazz said in surprise. "Normally you put up more of a fight, Prowler."

"Maybe. But I do love you, even if… it's uncomfortable to say, it is the truth. I love you, Jazz."

For the briefest of moments, Jazz wondered if Prowl was pulling one over on him. If he was pretending being okay with saying it just like that in order to please him. 

But Prowl didn't lie. He could be an aft, he could be stubborn and stunted and a total scraphead, but he never lied. Not to him. 

He couldn't stop himself from pushing forward and burying his spike into his sparkmate's valve and giving him a rough, biting kiss. 

It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to be the one coming undone, but here he was fragging Prowl like it was the first time he'd done it in a thousand years. His lover was moaning and whimpering into the kiss as his valve was pounded, hips jumping each time Jazz's spike glanced across his interior nodes and teeth nipped at his neck cables.

Jazz needed more, needed to feel as much of Prowl's pleasure as he could, so he reached down and yanked Prowl's hands up and over his head, pulling the mech up into his lap so he could have unimpeded access to those beautiful wings and then he ran the tips of his servos across them in the way he knew drove Prowl wild.

Prowl overloaded suddenly, with a shout and his helm thrown back, but Jazz didn't stop. He kept fragging up into that gorgeous frame and reached again to take hold of those bound hands. He intertwined their fingers, holding Prowl's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze as overload finally took him and he came shouting Prowl's name. 

#prazz #prowl #jazz #valveplug

[chokethelight]

@starcrcwns​  asked:      Wheelie is going to climb up on the table beside Jesse, just plopping down beside him as the Decepticon-wannabe eats his breakfast. " Y'know you can leave the Decepticons, right? I did it ... and I feel like you'd be happier away from those scrapheads, kid. "

There was slight hope that he could get through breakfast without anyone bothering him. A hope that was diminished the moment that Wheelie spoke. It wasn’t enough that he had to deal with his not-girlfriend being worried about him, but when you mixed Bee and this one into the mix? It was enough to give him a headache - more so before he had his daily coffee.

“Do you always give unwanted advice?” A simple question as he put back the piece of toast. “It’s something that your kind always manages to give. Not to do this or that. It seems to be that all the Bot’s do,” a pause, “even my not-girlfriend says to get away. To leave the Decepticons for good, but you know what? I don’t want to. I like it.”

“I mean, I have Barricade, I have protection, I have a lab, and a project that will be done with-in the next six months.” More or less... if he was lucky. “I do believe that I have everything i’ll ever need due to them.”

#starcrcwns #( Muse // Jesse Anderson / Fangshift )

[verdigrisprowl]

Springer’s spark

Hook calls Tarantulas to advise him on how best to prepare his patient for his coming surgery.

Hook

For all that Hook cared, Tarantulas could rot. Him and his stupid, pretentious, self-obsessed, "ooh look at me I actually got to go to medical school, and I wasted everything I learned there on fusing myself with vermin" slag. Which was why, even after he'd looked over the specs for Tarantulas's proposed spark augmentation procedure, he'd let it sit there instead of comming Tarantulas back. If it were up to him, he would've KEPT making Tarantulas wait. Make the bug call HIM and beg for HIS opinion. Tarantulas should be so lucky as to be graced with his expert opinion.

But—Prowl had come up to Hook. And he'd asked if Hook had looked over the files, and if he'd talked to Tarantulas about them yet.

Long Haul had knocked a fist-shaped dent into Prowl's head a month ago, and Prowl hadn't peeped a word to Hook about getting it repaired. He didn't care about his own damage. But he'd cared enough about fixing Springer to drag himself out of his room and ask Hook about it.

If it mattered that much to Prowl...

Well. Hook guessed he was calling Tarantulas now, wasn't he?

Ping.

Tarantulas

Give it another day or two – or even a matter of hours, really – and Tarantulas would have commed Hook himself, just like the sulky widget wanted. Sure, Tarantulas did have plenty of other things to occupy his time, but this was Ostaros they were talking about here. (No, Springer. It was Springer now. Rgh.) Tarantulas wasn’t about to wait a couple hundred years for a reply, not when Springer’s health was on the line.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait any longer though; neither did Hook, who got a prompt ping mirrored back at him, then a comm.

«Ah, Hook – do tell me this is about the spark augmentation files?»

Hook

«Yeah. S'about them.»

And then silence. He might have commed Tarantulas first, but he was still going to give Tarantulas the chance to ASK him about them first, before he just had to OFFER his opinion. Little victories.

Tarantulas

A beat. «What about them? I presume you found everything satisfactory and agree we’re ready to proceed?»

Hook

Ah, there it was. The moment he'd been waiting for. Tarantulas asking for his opinion. He basked in it.

And then he said, «Naw. It sucks.»

Tarantulas

Tarantulas had only asked Hook’s opinion because Prowl had made it mandatory, mind you. Whatever Hook was basking in was pretty artificially produced.

Tarantulas’s scoff, however, was not artificial in the least. « Hyah, funny, very funny. How droll. Go on, what is it?»

Hook

«He ain't gonna be able to handle the process. You know why we only made Phase Sixers outta point one percenters? Anything less woulda died. Can't take the strain. And you ain't done slag to protect the Wrecker from that strain.»

Tarantulas

«Wh – that’s the whole point of the augmentation process – to protect Springer! You’re talking nonsense – and if you’re not, I – well, go on, but be prepared to supply sufficiently-hard evidence and receipts to back up your claims.»

Hook

«Yeah? Well it ain't gonna protect nothing if you're doin' it like that. Listen, half the files on the whole Phase Sixer project are top secret classified—and all the mechs that coulda DEclassified them are either dead or switched sides—so you're gonna have to trust what I remember hearin' people say about it, and what I heard was them sayin' Megatron couldn't take the process. MEGATRON couldn't take it. And his spark output has been augmented as far as we could take it. Just augmentin' Springer's spark ain't gonna do the job.»

Tarantulas

Trust Hook? Hhmph.

«If you’re quite sufficiently knowledgeable about Megatron’s spark augmentations and their apparent shortcomings, I’d love to hear about what they might be and how my proposed plans for augmenting Springer’s spark - tried and true ones, mind you - are apparently going to fall sorely short as well.»

Hook

«Uh-uh. Doctor-patient confidentiality. I ain’t tellin’ you about Megatron’s spark.

«Yeah, your augmentations might be tried and true on somethin’, but it ain’t ununtrium. I ain’t sayin’ they won’t give your Wrecker’s spark some extra punch, but punch ain’t what you need. You need shielding.

«I’ll tell ya something that will work—dark matter fission cell in his power core. Sixshot was on the border of bein’ compatible so we stuck one in him, and he had no problems takin’ the ununtrium. Considerin’ the likely stats Springer’s spark’s got—Prowl’s explained all that to me—he’s probably already livin’ past the peak of his potential, size-wise; combine that with the fact that he’ll be comin’ straight outta life support with a zero point, and to get him through the ununtrium process he might need two, maaaybe three fission cells. His chest’s big, as long as he don’t plan on takin’ the Matrix he’s got plenty of room.»

Tarantulas

«Doctor-patient confidentiality,» Tarantulas repeated incredulously. Those were definitely words he hadn’t expected to hear out of Hook’s mouth.

…Words which were followed by even more words he hadn’t expected. Tarantulas spluttered for a moment as he found his mental footing.

«That’s absolutely preposterous! There’s no way I’m putting a fission cell in Springer’s chest, let alone three of them! Besides, there’s absolutely no reason why my proposal would be anything less than highly effective, since it would in essence raise his internal defenses and extend his spark’s peak potential on a fundamental level, instead of throwing external patches on a core that’s not damaged in the first place.»

Hook

«Yeah. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Maybe you skipped that lesson, ya dropout.» Which Hook still resents him for.

«There sure as frag is a reason, or I wouldn’t’ve brought it up! Boostin’ his spark’s output is worthless on this procedure. The fact that you used it successfully to let a bot perform mass-displacement sequences don’t mean nothin’, that procedure’s easy enough that if I wanted I could talk Astrotrain through doin’ the surgery on his own spark over the phone. All mass-displacement needs to work is a lotta spare energy. This is ununtrium. Ununtrium attacks the system.

«You’re basically givin’ his spark a blaster and sayin’ “if he ever needs to defend himself, he can just shoot it so fast the blasts form an energy shield. That’s slag. A strong offense ain’t a substitute for a solid defense, civilian—and that’s all you’re givin’ him.»

Tarantulas

«Did you even read any of the text I sent with the schematics? It’s - it’s hardly just spare energy - the effects on the spark once it’s incorporated -»

Tarantulas cut himself off with a loud, indignant hiss. «You know nothing about the process in actuality. And to the pits with you and your battle metaphors, this isn’t war, it’s an immensely delicate and tenuous dance if anything, both with the surgery and with the ununtrium binding! If you knew scrap about the binding anyhow you’d have provided the information upfront - and if you actually do and didn’t say - you’re veritably -»

No, no threats, not toward people Prowl would get defensive over. Tarantulas had been there and suffered the darkly disapproving consequences already. A shaking silence followed as he struggled to rein himself in.

«I’m not putting a fission cell in Springer’s chest. End of story. »

Hook

«Yeah, yeah, yeah, I read the damn thing, I get how it works. It’s not gonna be enough. You’re STILL gonna be puttin’ the burden on his spark instead of shielding his spark from the burden.»

Hook bristled defensively. «Like FRAG do I know nothing! Maybe I can’t build the damn machine that makes it happen but I sure as hell know what it does to a body! To the pits with you and your dance metaphors, you’re about to drown his spark in radiation and you can’t waltz out of that.»

Stupid, arrogant know-it-all. He knew how to build a fancy machine that could spray star sludge on someone's protoform and suddenly he knew Hook's job better than Hook himself. «Fine. Your patient, your funeral. Ain't my problem if you think you know more than the expert.»

Tarantulas

«That’s not the way it works. » Another hiss, but Tarantulas was done with details. Just – done.

«Well, it’s not my problem if you’re deluding yourself into believing you’re – that you’re the only expert.» He’d been about to say “that you’re an expert in anything,” but he could restrain himself just enough not to ruin the situation entirely.

«Yes, thank you, he is my patient, my – the fragging opposite of a funeral. He’s - he's Ostaros. » From Eostre, new life, after all. Springer was going to awaken anew, and Tarantulas was going to see to it that he did so without a damn fission cell in his chest.

Hook

«He ain't Ostaros no more. That's your problem, bug. You think the fact you made him means you know everything about him—from his name to how it's best to upgrade him. Ya don't. And you're gonna get him killed thinkin' ya do.

«But that's gonna be on your head. All Prowl wanted me to do is give ya my opinion. I'm done here.»

Tarantulas

«He is Ostaros underneath all that plating, just like he was and always will be, whether anyone likes it or not! Which is why he's not only going to survive this, he's going to flourish, and I'm not letting you interfere with that. Primus, over my dead body.»

A growl. «You know, now that I think about it, it really must sting that Prowl only trusts you as a second opinion after a so-called 'bug' from a different universe.»

Hook

«So ya think that because ya named him, he'll definitely survive. Yeah. Uh-huh. That's definitely how medicine works.

«You're the scraphead that built him, ain't ya? You're the one that wants to fix him. Of course boss asked you first. It really must sting that boss don't trust you enough to be the ONLY opinion.»

Tarantulas

«See – I did build him, and that’s why I know he’ll survive. The name was merely subsequent.

«As for the matter of trust – the only reason Prowl is being this careful is because he cares so much about Ostaros that he’s the only reason Prowl agreed to work with me again in the first place! Which – yes, I’m aware that takes me down a couple notches in repute, but at least I have notches to be taken, unlike someone who’s wormed their way into Prowl’s life – Prowl’s head – using disgustingly base circumstances that’ll – that –»

Tarantulas left off with something between a growl and a hiss. «I’m not – I'm not dignifying you with the privilege of this conversation. We’re obviously done here.»

Click.

Hook

«Wh— You think—? Hey! You think any of US asked for this? We didn't want it no more than—»

Too late. Tarantulas was off the line. Hook shouted at nothing, kicked his tool cabinet, and stomped out of his little medibay to shout up at Prowl's level. "Your stupid bug is a piece of slag!"

"You gave him your advice?"

"Yeah. Not that he deserves any of it."

"Thank you."

Hook grumbled something about how Prowl oughta thank him if he wanted to make it worth all that, and trudged over to flop down in front of the TV.

There. Duty done. Now he didn't have that weighing on his conscience. If Springer died and Prowl was upset, it was on Tarantulas's head.

#araneamechanica #chat

[paragonrobits]

Optimus itched at his chest, 'All are one.' he thinks, 'All are one, but all are divided'. He struggles for a moment, clasping his head, reaching back with his other hand to steady himself onto a chair. "Divided but whole, broken. Primes. Broken primes.." he mumbles. Ironhide comes to him, "What'sa matter prahm?". Optimus motions to the center of his chest. "Matrix talkin at ya again?". A small groan in response. "Let me get ya some proton popsicles, might ease that burn". "Till all are one..."

Perhaps the greatest secret of the Autobots was not that they were technically a theocracy, nor was it how desperate they felt their cause to be. Their allies among the galaxy, those closest to them, would say that the Autobots were a society of martyrs; the last remnants of a revolution trying to stem a tide of evil and corruption before all life was doomed by their betrayers, and that they felt that honorable death was their preferred option to survival at the cost of innocents.

The biggest secret of the Autobots was how tired Optimus Prime was. He bore the weight and minds of all those who came before him. To bear the collective wisdom, will and rage of all the true Primes who came before you was nothing something most minds could cope with. There was a reason most Primes held only a brief time in their post.

Optimus had not been broken by the weight of the Matrix, and he alone was the one Prime to have bore it for so long in living memory.

Optimus groaned again, leaning into Ironhide’s side and letting Ironhide walk for him. “Thank you,” he managed to gasp through the haze of a thousand eons, his mind flashing through the memories of all the Primes before him and the echoes of those who would come one day.

He was tired, he was so tired...

Ironhide helped him walk, as he had done on Cybertron when they were just scared scrapheads trying to stay alive, and as they would in the days when Cybertron lived again.

#transformers #nabulos #ironhide #optimus prime #fanfics #my writing #my fics