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brandwhorestarscream · 4 months

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Cybermorph au( Armada)

What if we change the "dead" to "badly injured"? I saw some fans do this

The result would still be Megatron having a reality check with what happened

I'm sad and cranky rn so I'm taking it out on Starscream

I don't remember all the exact details of his death but I do know he's generally hailed as a martyr. Sacrificed himself for the greater good and all that. I'm gonna twist it juuust a bit: he has every intention to die and not just because he thinks it's a necessity. That is part of it, yes, but I like to imagine all the countless years of utter-indifference-to-downright-cruelty from Megatron has made it so he just... doesn't want to be alive anymore. He's a nuisance, an unwanted mistake: he's never done anything to help his hive and his carrier doesn't seem to love him at all. He's tolerated only because their species is already critically endangered. He's a bad morph. He's cripplingly lonely and sad. Cybermorphs are social creatures that need bonds to be healthy, and Starscream just. Doesn't have it. His mental state has spiralled out of control and has finally manifested in the ultimate amalgamation of self loathing and isolation: suicidal ideation.

He's eager--no, desperate--for the pain to finally end. And deep down, more than anything, he hopes dying to save everyone will finally, finally, earn him his carrier's pride and maybe some of his love. It's all he wants. All he's ever wanted.

He's gotten really good at filtering out his own thoughts from the hivemind over the years. Doesn't want to burden them with his angst. But as he's about to throw himself into the metaphorical fire, his filters crack and then dissolve all together: he wants them to know they won't have to tolerate him anymore, and that he's doing it for them. For him. He truly, genuinely hopes this will make his carrier happy.

Megatron suddenly freezes during his final stand off with Optimus. Prime manages to get a hit in and sends him skidding back, but notices the cybermorph queen isn't really looking at him anymore. His face has gone slack, optics wide and horrified, then he promptly turns on a dime and takes off like a bat out of hell, bellowing Starscream's name.

It's too late, though. He can't stop his foolish little morphling even with his most powerful and desperate command as the queen.

He arrives just in time to see him drop, collapsing limp and charred and terrifyingly still, his presnece from the hivemind gone and sparkpulse so faint he seems doomed to blip out before Megatron can even get his hands on him. I'm headcannoning this scene to be similar to the frozen river in Wolf Children--desperate and regretful mother shaking him, hysterical and panicking, begging him to wake up and open his optics. Megatron's lost morphlings before, so, so many before, but not like this. Never like this. They all died at the hands of the autobots, be it in battle or during the early war nest raids. This is new, this is fresh, a special kind of grief and terror he's never been subjected to before. His very last morphling just tried to kill himself. He's shocked. He's horrified. He doesn't know what to do.

Through the power of fanfic and extremely resilient cybermorphs bodies, Starscream survives, but barely. He's in a coma for several decacycles after the fact. There's extensive bodywork to put him back together and stabilize him, but he's still in critical condition. While he's unconscious, he doesn't dream. He doesn't hear anything of the outside world. There's no sensation, no feeling, no nothing. Just the abyss.

When he finally reawakens, he's very disoriented. So stiff he can't even bend his fingers at first, optics open a single micrometer and flinching against even the low light of his recovery chamber. Everything hurts. Everything. Ventilating hurts. Blinking hurts. Trying to turn his neck to look around hurts. Tears bubble up in his optics and he starts very softly sobbing, in agony and disappointed in himself all at once.

What will the queen say? He's going to be in so much trouble. How can he be such a failure that he can't even die properly?! Did they win? Are they safe? He doesn't remember, he doesn't know-

Anxiety and panic bloom in his chassis and he's about 2 seconds away from a whole ass nervous breakdown in his hospital bed.

Then, suddenly, the door opens

His helm jerks to the side to look and white hot pain flares throughout his entire body, lacing down his main spinal strut and setting fire to every single nerve ending and sensory diode in his body. It's too much and he's helpless to stop himself from crying harder, especially when he sees who's just arrived.

The cybermorph queen himself has arrived and Starscream flinches back, trying so hard to cower away from him but his body won't move the way he wants it to, he's so stiff and it hurts so bad and oh stars Megatron's going to kill him for this-

He's expecting a lot of things. For his carrier to yell at him. To ream him the worst he's ever experienced. To be banished from the hive for being so reckless and stupid, or to just be eaten for his transgression. The cybermorphs have never been cannibalistic before, but he wouldn't be surprised if that was deemed a fitting punishment for royally screwing up as much as he has. He's expecting to be ridiculed, hated, screamed at.

He's expecting anything, honestly, aside from what happens. He is in no way shape or form expecting his carrier to cross the room in a single second and throw all 4 arms around him (I uh. Recently found out xenomorph queens have 4 arms. Didn't notice that until 2 days ago. Whoops)

Starscream gasps, shock pulsing through his entire body. He's never been held like this before, never been held at all: his secondary arms are both grasping at his shoulders, holding him close. Main arms have one wrapped around his back, the other cradling his helm and tucking his face close against the queen's chassis.

He's trilling, chirping, blubbering in cybermorph speak. My Starscream, my little morph, I'm so sorry, forgive your foolish carrier for not realizing how you felt. I'm so glad you're alright, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, but you're safe now. You're ok.

The first time he's ever been held by his carrier. The first time he's ever been spoken to so gently. The first time he's ever been told that he is loved. He doesn't have it in him to be angry, or to feel betrayed: he's so exhausted and in so much agonizing pain, all he can do is melt into the warm embrace and cry. It's the sort of crying wherein every sound is visceral, wet and painful, pouring out every bit of loneliness and devestation and every horrible thing he's had to endure over the years. He clings on, desperately, to Megatron's frame, begging him to say it again. To swear it to be true, that it's really over, that he's never going to have to feel like this again. The queen promises it easily, and holds him tight enough to dent the entire time. Purring at his last remaining morphling, swearing to protect and properly love him forever going forward. Maybe Starscream's connection to the emotional hivemind was weak, maybe it had grown numb in war, but he'd never been privvy to these feelings before. Megatron blames himself and vows to never, ever allow these mistakes to repeat.

...

I'm gonna cut this here cuz it's getting long and I'm tired. This may be exceptionally ooc but I really can't be hecked to care. If you want a follow up of this, uhhh just ask. If you have more thoughts, send em. Im going back to bed lmfao

#am i projecting cuz i don't have a good relationship with my mother and desperately wish i did??#why yes. yes i am. sue me #if my mom wont love me i can at least make starscreams mom love him #cybermorph au #megatron #starscream #oh and #cw suicidal ideation

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sineadrivka · 9 months

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"Things We Don't Tell Humans" UPDATE!

The final edit and re-upload of chapters begins today!

And releasing next week is the first chapter of:

The Podfic Edition

This is really happening! I'm finally bringing TWDTH to the final stage of production that I've been dreaming about since 2014. I have always been focused on trying to make the experience of the AU that I built to as many people as possible, and I didn't want folks to rely upon a soulless screenreader's voice.

How will I make this happen?

I'll be hosting the podfic on my own website, the Bog Swan Cafe, as a membership-based release with zero ads. One month later, I'll release it with ad breaks to public platforms. Behind the membership paywall will all be ad-free content, including bonus materials such as monthly blooper reels, excerpts from the notes I use to keep the timeline and story elements cohesive, deleted scenes, and so much more!

I'll reply to this post with another update once we're off the ground! Sign up for emails at the Bog Swan Cafe to keep your digits on the sparkpulse of this endeavor!

#TWDTH #Things We Don't Tell Humans #Transformers #Transformers fanfic #Transformers podfic #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #fanfic #podfic

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pastelpaperplanes · 4 years

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Kind of a silly question, but that last post about Envoy, Kup, OP and Ratchet got me thinking. Were there any other complications or worries when Rodi was having Envoy we didn’t know about? Or was he an easy bab for Rodi? He’s just too cute I can’t help but ask about him.

How dare you make someone so precious and baby!!

Envoy came just a bit earlier than expected, which of course was really scary for both Optimus and Rodimus at first as they thought they were going to loose another to that stress or other complications, but it turn out Envoy was just eager that’s all

Usually the spark descends to fuse with the protoform about a week before the actual emergence, for Envoy the dissension happened on the same day, so yeah it was double the pain for poor Rodi. He was already being closely monitored throughout his carriage, so his medical team was fully prepared and both Carrier and Newspark turned out fine!! Neither had any serious complications during/after the emergence, though both were kept in the hospital for a while just to be sure.

Ofc all the drama made for an almost comically tense waiting room filled with the entirety of Team Prime and their mates/conjunxes as well as just about a hundred balloons and various other gifts. None of them had really seen a Newspark before so everyone was excited!! Envoy was adored by all of his unofficial uncles from day one :D

#as for the anon who asked about the wires on Rodi in my last post #they’re just used for standard procedure post care for carriers!#he’s got a clip for energon and coolant bc some carriers may overheating in emergence #it’s just to keep him regulated! another is to moto or spark pulse which is again like standard hospital procedure #to monitor the sparkpulse*#asks #transformers #OptiRod #envoy #cybertron’s future au #tfa optimus prime #tfa rodimus prime #maccadam

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artsy-hobbitses · 2 years

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What other fan continuity would you like TTB to crossover with? (Personally, I'm for SNAP and Autobot Aademy)

@iscaredspider ‘s Sparkpulse AU for sure!

#inbox

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askvectorprime · 2 years

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Good to see you back Vector. As for my questions, what can you say about dimensions that lie outside the "Hasburo Finite Curve" for lack of a better metaphor, but still technically exist in the Transformers Multiverse? Say, Fan AUs like @thenamesblurrito's New Primes of Cybertron or @eldritch-araneae's Transformers Sparkpulse?

Dear Finite Finagled,

I believe this is one case where my words are unnecessary. Those who take interest in these worlds should support their storytellers, and get a rare chance to witness these mysterious adventures unfold firsthand!

#ask vector prime #transformers #maccadam #vector prime #multiverse #stonecrusherproductions

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the-odd-job · 3 years

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Ashes of Icarus chapter 3 - Is He Wrong?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Prowl, Cliffjumper, Ironhide (brief) Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2355

These chapters are so short it’s a motherfucking pleasure after dealing with harem AU.

( Previous )

If it had been just one time, that’d be its own thing. The timing would’ve been way off, but even so… Everyone admired Sunstreaker until they got even somewhat used to his beauty and didn’t immediately allow it to distract themselves every time they saw him.

If Megatron had been doing just that, it’d be one thing. Ogle him for his looks a bit, then move his attention back to more pressing matters, like winning a war.

But he’d done it repeatedly. The latest battle was only one instance of it.

And even weirder was that they’d fought their little war on Earth for quite some time already. Not long by Cybertronian standards for sure, but still. There had been battle after battle, as small in scale as they were here. Megatron had seen him several times before without paying much attention to him.

So what had changed? Why did he suddenly find the sovereign leader of the Decepticons staring at him in the middle of battles? Did it mean something?

How could it not mean something? It was so… Intentional. They weren’t just fleeting glances to determine the position and intent of an enemy, no.

This was staring. Prolonged and focused.

What did Megatron want?

Good sense said it could be nothing good. Nothing was ever good when it came to the Decepticons, and least of all when it came to Megatron. He was the number one enemy of any Autobot, the one mech who had thrust all of Cybertron into a bloody war that had obliterated the numbers of their entire species…

He’d brought about only bad things, many on this side of the war would say. He was the walking embodiment of wrongdoing of the most severe degree. The blood he’d verifiably spilled could have filled oceans, and that wasn’t even going into the rumors of what he’d done, caused, or ordered.

Sunstreaker should have been… What? Horrified that he was getting Megatron’s attention like that? Displeased at the very least. Fearful?

He wasn’t.

Sideswipe glanced at him where they sat side by side at their corner table. Sunstreaker had barely drunk his energon, too busy sorting out his own head. He’d stared at the cube a lot, though. It was surprising it hadn’t already combusted from being the sole recipient of his attention.

And Sideswipe, he wasn’t rushing or pushing him, just enjoying the rollercoaster of Sunstreaker’s thoughts, amused. That was Sideswipe for you. Well of acceptance and good spirits, as easygoing as they came. Most of the time, anyway.

Even now, as Sunstreaker’s thoughts started down a path no good Autobot’s should have, Sideswipe didn’t say anything. Didn’t judge.

Didn’t particularly care, either. He trusted Sunstreaker to have it, whatever it was. That was what they were trying to define, right then.

Because there wasn’t any negative emotion in him when he thought about Megatron’s stare on him. It was Megatron, for Primus sake. Leader of an entire faction, wannabe leader of all of Cybertron–

An exceptionally powerful individual that could dominate almost anyone he wanted to.

And Sunstreaker had, by all appearances, caught his attention.

He was flattered, that’s what he was. He deserved it, no doubt about it, but… Primus, it was exciting. He hadn’t considered any of it before—hadn’t given Megatron the time of day as anything more than something to annihilate.

Hadn’t thought of Megatron as an individual, but rather as just a concept. Leader of the Decepticons called Megatron, lovely, now kill it.

But Megatron was an individual, and like any individual, he would have his goals and aspirations. A personality that Sunstreaker could build from what he knew, but had never bothered to shape into a living being before.

Megatron was wicked. There was no denying that. But he was also impossibly driven and ambitious. Ruthless. Nothing stopped him when he went after something. He just took, and took, and took. He was a victor, a survivor who had carved his way from the mines, into the Pits, and then onto the centerstage. He was forever written down in history, for better or for worse.

He had come from nothing to be everything.

An unbelievable amount of intelligence, strength of mind, character, spirit, and body, fortitude and will was required to achieve any of that under an oppressive caste system that would have told him he was nothing and to stay down his whole life.

Megatron hadn’t listened.

Look where it had gotten him. Lord Megatron. He had a whole army behind him—Cybertron lay in ruins at his pedes.

And that Megatron had decided Sunstreaker was interesting, in some way.

Yeah, he was pretty sure he should’ve been fearful, concerned, all things considered–

But instead all he could feel was a heady thrill at the thought of what Megatron might want from him—and what he would still do to get it. Some staring across a battlefield could only be the beginning.

Megatron was a Decepticon, though. And Sunstreaker was an Autobot. As an Autobot, the last thing he should have wanted was the personalized attention of the enemy.

Well. He had never pretended to be a very good Autobot. He was too temperamental, too intense, too violent to ever really fit in. Kaon and the Pits were written all over his spark and frame, his mind. He wasn’t made of the softer things the true Autobots were. He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t merciful. He fought and he killed because he liked it, not just because he had to. It was a sport.

No, he was and always had been a bad, bad Autobot. What was some more piled atop that? Bury what he should be even further beneath the corpses of the rules he broke.

Sideswipe was wholly entertained by his complete disinterest in even playing the part of a rule-abiding Autobot, but he was one to talk. Sideswipe wasn’t as extreme, but he still enjoyed violence in ways Optimus Prime vehemently disapproved of. And rules? Yeah, Sideswipe had never given a damn about those, because no one was motivating–

“You drinkin’ that or not?”

Sunstreaker’s helm snapped up at the familiar voice he never wanted to hear. Cliffjumper was staring at him—Sideswipe sat up straighter next to him, already prepared for things to take a sharp turn far South.

That was all he and Cliffjumper seemed to ever manage.

Things weren’t starting that well this time either, because Cliffjumper was already sneering at him before he’d even had the chance to do anything. Not to be outdone, Sunstreaker bared his denta in a threat that would inevitably go unheeded, if everything was about to go at all like it always did.

“What do you want?” Sunstreaker growled, pulling his cube to himself and finally taking a drink from it. Pits, it was going to start to crystallize at this rate.

“You seem awful thoughtful,” Cliffjumper said, coming to stand next to the table. No doubt he would’ve leaned across it or something, if he wasn’t a fragging mini. “Didn’t know you even had enough processing power for that.”

Sideswipe snorted, “You’re one to talk.”

Thank you, Sideswipe, for being helpful for once. Sunstreaker grunted in agreement, and Cliffjumper growled at the both of them this time around—before shifting his attention back to just Sunstreaker. “Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at ol’ Megs last battle,” the minibot continued. Sunstreaker’s glare sharpened. “Finally gonna make good on things and switch the damn sides? Already fantasizing about it, huh?”

Red Alert and Cliffjumper, the two mechs that had a forever obsession about them being traitors in the making just because they’d never quite fit in. At least he didn’t have Red Alert breathing down his neck this time, just Cliffjumper.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics. “Keep dreaming, short stick. You know I’d off you in a sparkpulse if I switched sides. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Cliffjumper growled at him. “‘Con talk if I ever heard some! Usual coming from you though, ain’t it? I’m surprised you’re not cozying up with Mirage again, bein’ kindred spirits about this whole thing.”

“Cut the crap, CJ,” Sideswipe said with a roll of his optics. “Just ‘cause you’re always thinking we’re about to jump ship, don’t make it true.”

“Oh yeah? Then what was your brother doing last battle, not fighting the enemy?” Cliffjumper snapped.

For once he had a perfectly good point, but that didn’t mean Sunstreaker appreciated his tone any more than he usually did. “Go frag yourself with a goddamn cactus, Cliffjumper,” Sunstreaker snarled. “I’ll stay a fragging Autobot just to spite you, deal?”

“Like slag you will.” Primus, he just didn’t know when to stop, did he? Sunstreaker growled in warning, the generous mech he was.

Cliffjumper didn’t listen or care. “I say it now, it’s just a matter of time until you’re jumping on Megatron’s spike and begging to fragging join him, the way you were staring at him.”

He’d given enough warnings, hadn’t he? Sunstreaker was off his seat and around the table before Cliffjumper had had the time to do more than take a step back. A yell from the mini and he was sent flying into the not-nearest wall, but this was Cliffjumper. He was back on his pedes as soon as he’d landed, and like the suicidal idiot he was, charging right at Sunstreaker.

That worked just fine for him. Sunstreaker steadied himself and took the impact of the smaller mech bodily ramming into him, and off they were. Cliffjumper may have been a minibot, but he was also a warrior used to fighting those much larger than him.

And Sunstreaker, he was also used to fighting those bigger than him. It put them on more even ground than he would have liked, but he was Sunstreaker.

Of course Cliffjumper eventually ended up pinned on the ground, missing both arms and cursing up a storm. Sunstreaker snarled atop him, bearing his whole weight on the smaller mech and giving him no chances to escape.

Satisfactory.

“SUNSTREAKER!” Ah, he knew that voice too. Sunstreaker let his helm roll in the direction of the doorway lazily, his optics slower to follow to see Ironhide marching towards him, face like a thundercloud. “Prowl’s office. Right now.”

“He started it,” Sunstreaker huffed, but got off his little sparring buddy with just one more kick at Cliffjumper’s side.

Even that was enough to have Ironhide’s engine roaring. Unsurprisingly. He didn’t say anything more though, and Sunstreaker merely stalked past him, just not far enough so to avoid their shoulders colliding. Ironhide growled in offense, but didn’t escalate the situation further.

Sunstreaker wished he would have. Attacking your commanding officer unprovoked was one thing, but given a reason to do so…

Alas, such was not to happen. No one interrupted him on his walk out of the rec room, Sideswipe trailing behind him, snickering to himself. “Oh man, did you see the amount of blood? You tore those lines to shreds, Ratchet’s gonna have to straight up swap ‘em. Poor Cliff. He so should’ve seen that coming.”

Sunstreaker’s agreeing hmph joined Sideswipe’s laughter as they took the route to Prowl’s office. The door opened to them as soon as they pinged for entrance, and a rather severe looking Prowl waited for them on the other side of his desk.

But Prowl always looked severe. The brothers took seats on the chairs in front of Prowl’s desk, practically there just for them.

And then Sideswipe had already lifted his pedes the SIC’s desk, leaning back and crossing his servos behind his helm. “So what’s up today?” he asked with a wide grin that looked far too genuine to belong to a troublemaker of his caliber.

Even if it wasn’t technically Sideswipe in trouble this time.

“You know full well,” Prowl responded, giving the offending pedes a nasty look, but he only glanced at his brother briefly before the cold blue optics had already zeroed in on Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker raised an optical ridge in challenge.

“Humor me, Sunstreaker. What did Cliffjumper do to deserve that this time?”

“Ran his mouth,” Sideswipe responded at once. “Like he usually does. Someone should teach ‘em to shut the damn thing.

“Oh, right, except Sunny’s been trying to do that since they met, and it hasn’t worked out.”

Excellent summary of the situation, even if Sunstreaker said so himself. He nodded his agreement.

Prowl pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. “I believe it is pointless to give another speech about how you should be the bigger person.” Yeah, it was. ”Go to the brig and lock yourselves in. One week.”

“Do I get my supplies?” Sunstreaker asked sharply, although they were both halfway out of their seats.

“After relieving Cliffjumper of both of his arms? No.”

“Oh come on–” Sideswipe began to laugh, but Prowl didn’t let him finish. The tactician’s engine revved in warning that had the brothers filing out.

And only once they were in the hallway did Sideswipe properly give into his laughter, stumbling like a drunkard as they headed for the brig. “What did that mean, if you’d only taken off one arm you would’ve gotten your slag?” he cackled. Sunstreaker merely grumbled, significantly less amused that he’d been denied the chance to polish himself for a week. “Oh, you seriously gotta learn to hold back juuuuust enough to still get your concessions. Game the system!”

Well, at least one of them had fun with this. “I think I’d rather deliver the maximum amount of punishment,” Sunstreaker countered as they entered the brig and walked halfway down its corridor before turning into adjacent cells and stepping in. The bars activated on their heels, and the one week timer started to count down.

“Just straight up kill ‘em next time if that’s what you wanna,” Sideswipe suggested.

“And get court martialed?” Sunstreaker asked in return. Bad idea, Sideswipe. A very bad idea.

As one they stepped up the cells’ narrow berths and laid down until there was nothing but a wall between then. “Would shut ‘im up for good, though,” Sideswipe pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #cliffjumper #prowl #ironhide #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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pastelgrungewrecker · 4 years

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Firefly {”Skywalker” AU}

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t comin’ Or the moment of truth in your lies.... When everything feels like the movies Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive

[For @novacronums ]

“Hushabye now, firefly.”, laughs a tired Altihexian accent, and Rodimus remembers seeing his own tiny hands reaching up angrily and grabbing at a shoulder scope, “Shhhhshshsh- one more song, my little nova.”

The tune fades in and out as Rodimus’s vision blurs- in his dream, in his berth, and he sits up with optics full of coolant and a hiccup in his vents.

He wipes at his optics, sniffing hard and feeling his chest clench against the throbbing ache settling in the bottom. He curls in on himself, his room patchy and vibrant as his frame and history and coughs hoarsely once.

He remembers safety- holding tight to First Aid as they nestled between Ratchet and Perceptor and seeing fire and death flicker on the console before Ratchet hurriedly changed the channel to something soft and bright and soothing- the way the two elder mechs exchanged a worried look before Ratchet tugged the sparklings into his lap and surrounded them in the soft scent of clean counters and warm houses.

Rodimus squints his eyes shut, choking on his ventilations as he hugs his knees...

He remembers hearing the whispered conversations- he is older now, and scarred from a cruel infection from his milktooth years and he tongues the fangs the other sparklings tease him for having. They’re going back to Nyon, its not safe here, the war is too close and too dangerous and the younglings need stability after the Latest Report from someone called Prowl.

Rodimus gives a soft crack of laughter, even then the tactician was interfering with his happiness.

He sees First Aid coming home again, his sigil etched carefully on his new frame and sees the pride in Ratchet’s eyes and feels a pulse of confusion at how unfamiliar it seems to him... And then Perceptor is smiling at him, tired and bright and snubbing out something that had been burning between his fingers and waves him over.

“Come now, firefly, come see! Your brother is going to be a medic like Papa!”

Rodimus sobs quietly where he sits now, on his ship with his rank and wonders and wonders if Ratchet can look at him with his proud smile this time- like all those years ago.

He remembers the arguments; Not long after First Aid is hurriedly reassigned to Delphi.

“IF YOU’RE GOING TO BLOODY PICK A FAVORITE THEN KEEP THEM SAFE- OR GET OUT OF MY GOD DAMN HOUSE, RATCHET!”

Papa doesn’t come home, and Pops looks like he’s been crying- but still, Perceptor, Pops, little Hot Rod’s softspoken ‘carrier’ beckons the blooming adolescent over and bundles him close to a twitchy sparkpulse and sings gently- songs from somewhere called Earth; songs Hot Rod can’t help but listen to on the old console in the back office.

Rodimus uncurls, rising from his berth to wobble to his door- He’s been drinking, he knows anyone with working optics will notice, and its late and everyone is no doubt in recharge but...

Papa still doesn’t come home, and Hot Rod learns to have fire in his words and a forge in his optics as Perceptor’s work begins running longer and longer and rougher and rougher until the day the new adult opens the door to an Enforcer who won’t meet his gaze.

He finds out Perceptor is a Wrecker, he finds out he died once and came back long enough to ship out again. Like father, like son.

Rodimus wobbles down the halls hiccuping quietly and muffling his voice as his optics fill and he searches with yearning peeks for the doors to his salvation. He stands in front of Ratchet’s, reached out to tap on the door... And withdraws his hands. No sense in seeking praise from the one who voted against him, no hesitation. No sense in looking to the one he failed to be the favorite for.

He wanders on.

Perceptor looks up, reticule flickering as a tap sounds on his door and his brows tilt down in annoyance as he stands stiffly and walks towards the noisy entry point and taps the pad for it to open.

“How may I- Oh... Oh heavens.”

Rodimus looks down at him, taller now since dying and revival in a sick mockery of his adoptive parent and coughs through his vents as he wears the marks of mourning.

“....Oh, firefly. They’ve dimmed your light again, haven’t they- come now, little nova, and let’s get you fixed up.”

“I. I’m a Captain now, I didn’t think you’d-”

“Captain, vassal, officer- I don’t care. I still read you stories every day before naptime. In, in with you. When was the last time you SLEPT, Primus sakes...”

Familiar hands took Rodimus’s and guiding him in as the door slid shut and Rodimus was babbling apologies and words that taste so sour in his throat- either the spirits of the spirit of the thing he didn’t know but now he’s sitting on the couch in the double hab Perceptor secured for himself and he was pleading for Perceptor’s forgiveness for everything and anything under the sun.

“Hushabye now, firefly.”, murmurs Perceptor as he sits heavily next t his now grown little charge and suddenly Rodimus is a child, a toddler, a little bundle of binary chirrups and grumpy huffs, “Shhhhshshsh- I know just the song, my little nova.”

Perceptor pulls Rodimus sideways to lean and curl and cling like when he was so very young, and the Captain weeps against the father-turned-killer’s chestplate as a lullaby older than any tune ever sung before reaches into a reborn spark and sinks it into baptismal waters to wash it clean of fear and fretful worrying.

Perceptor rocks him gently, side to side and strokes a spoiler like stunted angel’s wings, and his singsong words peter out into a gentle hum and murmur of music- part vocoder, part spark and all soft as eiderdown or Gilead balm on the worn weary messiah’s soul.

Rodimus feels his optics grow heavy, and the colors blur like when he was so, so very young until they close and his spoiler twitches once more before laying flat against his frame.

Perceptor tugs down a blanket draped over the back of the furniture they curled upon and gently tucks the Captain tight, holding him close to a sparkbeat still twitchy but as strong as ever.

#pastelwrites #skywalker au #tf #rodimus #perceptor #do not tag as ship #dadceptor and sonimus prime

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eldritch-araneae · 1 year

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Nightshade's design for Sparkpulse continuity! <3

Once their alt-mode was revealed to be an owl, immediately thought to make them an owl griffin for my continuity. They're very stealthy as their pawns have very soft pads, and like real owls, they can fly almost soundlessly!

#maccadam #transformers #sparkpulse au #nightshade #my art #earthspark spoilers

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zoomzooml · 3 years

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what lurks in the shadows?

#I was bored #So i reread some stories #And get inspired #but I'm also lazy today so this is pretty much colored doodle #It looks little wacky but I'm too lazy to repair it at this point #well-#transformers au #bumblebee #sparkpulse au #au belongs to @iscaredspider #fanart

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kittykatzvillage · 2 years

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Happy 1 year anniversary to @iscaredspider‘s Sparkpulse AU!!!

#transformers #sparkpulse au #iscaredspider #bumblebee #windblade #art #quickly doodles something for this amazing au #please go read it

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brandwhorestarscream · 15 hours

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Reincarnation au

Do you know which of the (several) moments from this au could be turned into mini fics(i mean, they already are¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)? The trine elite moments, more precisely when Star has his seekerlings(trineshipp here)

They are with the rest of the aerie/air force, discussing the chaos of the last few weeks, sharing theories and even commenting about their own litters(discussions about the best nests, names, etc.)Ss is talking with sunstorm and slipstream and TC is on a couch, writing, while SW participates in the competition

Of course the sparklings that the winglord carries decided to be the first to be born

The first two are very similar to their mother, and each other (tfe and cyberverse), except for a few details, the third(Tfa) is larger, with darker colors that no one is sure where it came from.The fourth (IDW) is the biggest and Hook swears that he was never insulted by the SIC as much as he was at that day

It's the fifth one that leaves the constructicons silent at a worrying speed, until scrapper lets out a "he's gray"

Star has to be held back by a pale TC, due to how quickly he stood up shouting a "what do you mean gray?!"

(I'm going to contain myself here, I've already left enough for the rest)

[I'm happy with how much I got, but I don't want to leave you without much to say]

Daaaw I love this. Starscream being thrown headfirst into parenthood is always a treat, though with the way this is written it sounds like he was aware he was carrying? I'm guessing after a certain threshold of stealth cycles, both autobots and decepticons decided to scan everyone in their ranks to root out any more surprise bitties.

As a result the seekers are all up in arms preparing for the new arrivals, and Starscream's delivery is met with much fanfare. The vosians are a critically endangered species, after all: every new life is precious. Star has... a lot of complicated feelings about his impending motherhood, but ultimately I think he's proud. When the fifth one comes out gray he's already so high strung and in such pain he just... starts sobbing. Covers his face with his servos and starts bawling, wailing for it not to be true, cursing Primus and Hook and everyone else that could possibly be responsible. "Don't do this to me! Don't you dare! Don't take my sparkling, don't you dare!" Thundercracker has both arms around him and his wings are already at their lowest position in mourning, while Skywarp is looking on in horror, shaking his head and whispering no no no no no no...!

"I've got a sparkpulse!" Scavenger suddenly announces jovially, one huge finger pressed to the newborn's chassis. "Wait, wait, he's not dead!"

Hook immediately rushes to get the bitty into emergency care: if he's completely gray that means death is breathing down his neck, but if his spark is still pulsing then there's a chance. Tells Mixmaster to take over on baby catching duty because seekers always birth in threes, and while he's loading little TFP Star into an incubator, the 6th and final baby, Armada Star, is born

In the aftermath, the little gray one turns out to be just fine. His spark is strong and healthy, though his tiny scrawny body and gray color scheme is extremely worrying. Starscream has a tendency to coddle and spoil that one, very rarely putting him down and watching him with eagle eyes, fit to panic if bitty falls down or bumps into a table leg. Everyone kinda walks on eggshells around the little guy, just because he looks like he's one strong wind away from keeling over dead. He looks damn near skeletal compared to his siblings, and with no color at all he resembles a zombie. Starscream and the rest of the aerie worry about him so, so much, but he's every bit as determined and capable as his brothers. He's definitely a bit of a mama's boy and will milk his carrier's attention to use to his advantage 🤭

#reincarnation au #so many starscreams!

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roseymoseyberry · 7 years

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Samsara (3/?)

Heyo, time for chapter 3, aka a little bit more insight into how I had to fill in the gaps in Breakdown’s backstory and the Stunticons in general, lmao.

Thanks again y’all for reading this wild ride and I hope you enjoy! And for folks who may not watch RID15, the race mentioned in this chapter is from the episode Disordered Personalities. You don’t really need to know much beyond the stunticons joined it hoping to cement their title as Rulers of the Road (because they’re literally written dumb enough as to believe winning a race would do that) and the Autobots went to stop them from destroying the other racers. So they lost and it’s implied that Motormaster pulled a Megatron and physically punished them for it.

Title: Samsara

Series: RID15 and TFP (and some tidbits grabbed from Aligned wiki pages)

Ship(s): Wildbreak/Knockout, Breakdown/Knockout

Tags/warnings: Reincarnation AU, hurt/comfort, verbal/physical abuse (though the worst of the physical abuse is barely described or off screen), past character death, age difference (but still consenting adult alien robots), a lot of filling in worldbuilding gaps and making shit up, and a lot of Wildbreak being a sweet boy who just needs some love and affection.

Fic Summary:

From the day he was forged, Wildbreak had felt like there was something missing; some motivation or drive or desire that had been left behind in the Allspark.

Something he should know but didn’t.

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|

“About time you woke up.”

Bumblebee’s frame jolted online as he sat up, staring wide-opticked up at where Knockout was leaned against a shelf of scrap metal and watching him.

“Knockout?! What’re you--?”

“I have a favor to ask,” Knockout stated.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Bumblebee grumbled as he moved to stand. He was going to have to have a talk with his team about warning him when they had company.

Knockout gave him an unimpressed look.

“You want help with your Stunticon problem, don’t you?”

Bumblebee’s arms stilled where he had stretched them over his helm, blinking at Knockout. “You decided to join the team after all?”

“Of course not. I told you, I’m not much of a team player these days when I can help it,” Knockout replied.

“Then…?”

“I’ve been spending some time with one of them.”

“You—wait, you’ve been doing what?!” Panicked, Bumblebee continued, “You’re not gonna join them, are you?”

With a snort, Knockout shook his head. “As much as I don’t want you ordering me around, the idea of Motormaster trying it is even worse. He’s a brute and a moron who only knows how to motivate with his fists. It’s no coincidence he had to remake his team by snatching up a bunch of new forged.”

That was all news to Bumblebee. He didn’t know about any Motormaster, let alone-- “How new?”

“Post-war.”

Bumblebee winced.

But before he could comment, Knockout pushed off his perch and stalked towards him. “And that’s why, when I finally convince this kid to leave the Stunticons, you’re going to pardon him and accept him into the Autobot fold without any problems.”

Bumblebee sighed as he braced his servos on his hips.

“They’re criminals, Knockout. I can’t just waive that.”

“You did for that dinobot,” Knockout argued. He was nearly chest-to-chest with Bumblebee now, unwilling to give an inch.

“Grimlock is a special case. He proved himself to be trustworthy.”

“No. Grimlock is special because you like him.”

“He’s a good mech--”

“—And so is Wildbreak.”

With a huff, Bumblebee stepped back and paced away, and of course he heard Knockout’s pedesteps following behind. “Knockout--”

“You want to put an end to the Stunticons, don’t you?”

That brought Bumblebee up short. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, and Knockout lips barely curled enough to be called a smirk, but it was there. “If you really want to ruin their plans, I can’t think of a better way than getting one of them to defect and thus depriving them of two combiner forms.”

“Two? Can he combine with one of the other ones too?”

The smirk grew.

“I can’t believe the Autobots are still so behind when it comes to understanding combiners,” Knockout said, strolling closer, looking every part like the Con he once was. “You don’t honestly think that if your lot could fuse together by sheer accident that a team led by Motormaster, a mech who has been combining for millennia, would be limited to just combining in pairs, do you?” Genuine fear started to spark in Bumblebee’s processor as realization of what Knockout was suggesting settled.

“All of them?”

“Menasor was never as successful a combiner as Devastator, no doubt because Motormaster was never as good a leader as Scrapper, but you still wouldn’t want to meet him on a battlefield,” Knockout continued, examining his claws lazily, as if he wasn’t discussing the former army’s deadliest soldiers and weapons. “Motormaster has only had this team for a little over a decade, so I can’t imagine they’re as good as his previous teams, but that’s more than enough time for them to learn to form Menasor and control him. Certainly enough time to cause your team some serious problems.”

Bumblebee’s engine growled in his chest as he snapped, “Why the frag didn’t you tell me any of that before?!”

Knockout shrugged, looking victorious already. “You didn’t ask.”

“I asked for your help!”

“No. You ordered for it,” Knockout replied snidely. “If you wanted my advice, as one mech to another, you could have asked for it. Instead you got prissy because I didn’t want to play house with you and your little band of misfits.”

Bumblebee’s engine sputtered with indignation and some guilt.

“Fine,” Bumblebee finally agreed, unable to completely rid his voice of irritation. “I’ll figure something out if Wildbreak leaves the Stunticons.”

“Thank you.” It was more a declaration of victory than gratitude.

“Now uh, you have anything else you could tell me about the Stunticons?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve revealed all my cards,” Knockout admitted with a shrug, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I’ll let you know if I learn anything juicy.”

With that, Knockout was gone again with barely a wave for the handful of team members even online this time of morning.

It wasn’t until later when Bumblebee had Fixit pull up any information he could find on Motormaster and Menasor, criminal or historical, that he finally got the answer to why Knockout had gotten himself so invested. For all that Bumblebee had known Knockout after the war, he had always looked to stay distanced from others, charming but not caring to get involved past pleasantries, never staying in one place for long. But this sparkling of a criminal had caught his full attention in ways no other mech had for over a decade.

The research also explained the almost personal distaste he had for Motormaster and the Stunticons as a team.

There was list of former Stunticon members from early in the war, before even Bumblebee had been forged, and standing out like a glaring neon sign was the name Breakdown.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Dragstrip stared at him before asking, “What?”

“You know, like, where a spark that joins the Allspark comes back out to be forged again--”

“I know what it is. What I’m trying to figure out is why you’re even asking such a pointless question,” Dragstrip mocked. However, he still handed Wildbreak a cube of energon before sitting down to drink his own.

“I dunno. Just been thinking about it.” Because admitting that he was being plagued by thoughts of a mech he shouldn’t know would make Wildbreak sound insane. He wasn’t completely sure that he wasn’t. “Like, would he be the same, or would he be a different mech the second time around? Would he remember anything?”

Dragstrip stared at him out the corner of his optic as he took a long drink.

“When’d you decide to become some sorta religious type?”

Wildbreak just shrugged, muttering, “Doesn’t matter,” and busied himself with his drink.

“This ‘bout your spark thing? You think it’s ‘cause you’re a reincarnation or something?”

“Yeah. But that sounds pretty glitched, don’t it?”

“Eh, who knows how all that Allspark business works,” Dragstrip said with a lazy wave of his servo. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Would it make a difference to ya if you were?”

Knockout’s sad smile as he said Breakdown’s name flashed unbidden in Wildbreak’s processor.

“Depends on who I was.”

Dragstrip hummed noncommittally before finishing off his cube with a satisfied ex-vent.

“Ah well, no way of figuring that out anyway, so don’t worry that tiny little processor of yours over it, buddy ol’ pal,” Dragstrip said as he pushed up to his feet and chucked the cube carelessly. “We got more important stuff to focus on today. We got a big race to win for the Boss!”

“A race?” Wildbreak asked.

“Yeah! With that title, we’ll really be the rulers of the roads!”

Wildbreak’s sparkpulse barely quickened at all at the idea, but he forced a grin onto his face and followed after Dragstrip.

The third time they talked, it was over commlinks. It had only been the one day – Wildbreak hadn't even had a chance to recharge yet beyond the couple hours that morning – but already he missed Knockout something fierce.

::Tomorrow?::

::Yeah,:: Wildbreak said, aware of how hopeful his tone was. ::I’d like to see ya.::

::Unfortunately I'm leaving town tonight. I shouldn't be gone more than a day or two though.::

Wildbreak's spark sank.

::Oh. Ok. Well uh, let me know when you get back then?::

There was a pause, and Wildbreak worried that he had sounded too needy, that Knockout wouldn’t be interested anymore because he was so pathetic—

::You could come with if you wanted.::

Wildbreak's spark was caught between joy and the reality that was his frame. Losing the race had made Motormaster mad and he had taken it out on them all, leaving them battered and just this side of broken. Wildbreak's lines had only just finished closing up, so he wasn't leaking energon anymore, but it would take a couple hours at least to work out the dents. Even then though, Wildbreak knew he needed a long, deep recharge to let his frame heal enough that his injuries wouldn’t be obvious.

Normally, after one of Motormaster’s beatings, Wildbreak would curl up and spend a couple days healing until someone finally dragged him out.

But now, Wildbreak wanted desperately to be up and running as soon as he could.

::I really wish I could, but I can’t do nothing tonight.::

::You can’t honestly tell me that little race was enough to tire you out,:: Knockout teased. Heat bloomed in Wildbreak’s frame with embarrassment.

::You saw that, huh?::

::No need to be embarrassed. We’ve all had Autobots ruin a race or two,:: Knockout said easily.

::Yeah? Tell me about yours?::

::I’m sure you can wait a couple days.::

Wildbreak curled up tighter, arms around his knees and back against a boulder, staring out across the terrain as the sun dipped closer to the horizon.

::Wildbreak?::

::Could you tell me about it now? I—I just really wanna hear you talk. If that isn’t weird. That’s weird, isn’t it?::

There was a moment of silence before Knockout asked, utterly serious, ::Is something wrong?::

::I’m fine,:: Wildbreak answered automatically.

::That’s a lie if ever I’ve heard one.:: And now Knockout sounded concerned.

::Uh, then, I’ll be fine, so it’s ok.::

::Wildbreak.::

Wildbreak squirmed, imaging the look that Knockout would give him.

::Motormaster got mad about the race and, well, you know.::

There was a tired ex-vent that carried across the line before Knockout replied knowingly, ::I do.:: The thought that Knockout had ever been punished when he was a Decepticon hadn’t ever crossed Wildbreak’s processor, but it was there now and it sparked something furious in his lines. He didn’t have time to do anything with that outrage though before Knockout said, ::I can wait until tomorrow morning if you still want to come with me. It won’t be fun, exactly, but I wouldn’t mind the company.::

Wildbreak blinked as he realized what Knockout was offering.

For the first time that day, a genuine grin split Wildbreak’s face.

::Yeah, that would be great! Where’re we going?::

::To visit my old friend.::

“Ey, Wildbreak!” Dragstrip called, and Wildbreak went stiff as a board as his partner continued, “Get over here!”

Wildbreak could also see the sudden fear in Dragstrip’s optics when Motormaster’s engine hummed loud enough to carry as their boss stepped closer to Wildbreak, making himself visible to the other mech.

“Oh, uh, sorry boss, didn’t see you there. I’ll come back later--”

“We’re almost done here,” Motormaster interrupted, deep rumbling voice sounding oddly pleased and all the more terrifying for it. It was rare that a smile on his face meant anything good. “Wildbreak was just telling me his ideas for the next couple days.”

A sinking feeling gripped Wildbreak as Dragstrip stared in confusion.

“Ideas?”

Wildbreak broke their optic contact and stared at the ground as Motormaster continued, “Yes. He’s going to drive out further than we’ve gone before, expanding our territory and proving who those roads belong to now.” His large servo landed on Wildbreak’s shoulder in what should have been a show of pride and affection, but Motormaster’s optics were trained on Dragstrip, mocking him. “If even Wildbreak can show some initiative for once to make up for his failure, then I don’t see what’s keeping the rest of you from doing the same.”

Nothing could have pulled Wildbreak’s stare from the ground, spark pounding because he knew the hateful look that Dragstrip must have been wearing, that all the Stunticons soon would. He had seen it time and again when Motormaster turned them against each other to motivate through spite. But Wildbreak had never been the cause of that; had never been used to shame the other Stunticons.

Wildbreak had never shown initiative before and his teammates were going to hate him for it.

But he did his best to focus on the fact that as soon as this was done, Wildbreak could grab some cubes of energon and escape into Knockout’s company for a while. It would be worth it.

Even knowing the vaguely macabre purpose of the roadtrip, there was nothing that could have kept Wildbreak’s excitement from bubbling over. He got to use his Earth alt-mode and spend hours upon hours driving with Knockout, listening to more of his stories and talking about Earth and Cybertron and politics with him. Knockout was far more knowledgeable about it all, but he wasn’t unkind about it, which in Wildbreak’s opinion was exceedingly kind. He would simply explain what Wildbreak didn’t understand and they would continue with their conversation.

And, despite his designation as an Autobot, Knockout was frank about the war and the aftermath and where the Autobots were succeeding and where they were failing. The more Wildbreak got to know him, the better he understood why Knockout left the Decepticons after spending millennia with them.

Wildbreak wasn’t sure it could really be considered a betrayal when Knockout hadn’t been particularly loyal to start with.

Knockout was a mech who looked out for himself first and foremost. For all his dramatics and charm, he was pragmatic, and Wildbreak might have thought him ultimately detached and cold if he wasn’t so drawn to him.

Not the mention the fact that Knockout had also looked out for at least one other mech.

As the sun started to sink low in the sky, Knockout mentioned Breakdown again. Maybe it was because they were growing ever closer to their destination, or maybe, as Wildbreak hoped, Knockout simply felt more comfortable opening up to him.

Knockout talked about how they had met.

Breakdown had been recovering from an upgrade which had left him larger and stronger, a little loopy as his processor was slowly booting up and accepting the changed frame. When Knockout had walked in as his assigned medic and introduced himself, saying “I’m Knockout,” Breakdown had given him a dopey smile and replied, “Yeah you are.”

It had been far from the first time that Knockout had heard the line, but there was an awe to it that had made Knockout laugh. It had been a good decade since he had last had a genuine laugh.

Knockout talked about how Breakdown would come back time and again, his frame broken and bleeding, but always so honest when he asked how Knockout had been. Once, his entire arm had been crushed into a mangle of twisted metal, limp and immobile and no doubt severely painful, and Breakdown had asked Knockout if he was getting enough recharge. “Your optics just seem dimmer than usual,” Knockout recounted Breakdown saying, not bothering with a funny voice or imitation like the other Cons in his stories received. There had been nothing but affection in Knockout’s tone.

Knockout talked about being reassigned to work in the field. How he had insisted he would need an assistant that could double as a bodyguard. And when he had managed to convince them, he demanded it be Breakdown.

Knockout talked about their resulting partnership.

For a brief moment, as Knockout was halfway through some exciting story about an adventure they had had on a planet Wildbreak had never even heard of, he wondered if he should be jealous.

But he wasn’t.

Not completely.

Wildbreak wasn’t jealous of the relationship that Breakdown had gotten to have with Knockout. It was sweet, and it warmed Wildbreak’s spark in a way that made his processor whirr with confusion, because it was that familiarity again, recognizing what he couldn’t possibly recognize. If anything, it just made Wildbreak feel as if he was truly going mad. Was he really a reincarnation of some big bruiser of a Decepticon soldier, or was he just so desperate for Knockout’s affection that he was fooling himself with wild ideas that those feelings and stories could somehow be about him?

The sun set and Knockout said they had a couple more hours before they would arrive.

And Wildbreak thought to himself that if he was jealous of anything, it was that he wanted to be rescued by Knockout too.

“Any updates, Fixit?”

“A couple, sir,” the minibot replied as he continued to tap away, bringing up a screen for Bumblebee. “I’ve managed to get all the information on Motormaster that’s on record. It’s like Knockout said – he led the Stunticon combiner team during the war, but rarely to any great success compared to the more infamous Constructicon team. It seems to be due to a lack of proper leadership kills – spills – skills!”

Bumblebee scanned the profile as he prompted, “How so?”

“Well, while it isn’t ever spelled out so obviously, the simple fact is that the Stunticon team had a shockingly high turnover rate. Some were deaths of course, but others seemed to find ways to quit the team, which is unprecedented in other Decepticon teams of the time.”

Near the end of the profile was a list of Stunticon members, and indeed there were more than a dozen names, many with (DECEASED) or (TRANSFERRED) by them.

It still seemed like some weird twist of fate to see Breakdown’s name among them.

“The Stunticon team was apprehended at the end of the war, but Motormaster managed to escape and has been on the run since, so Knockout is correct that the team he has now has likely only worked together since then.”

“Well, that’s good to know, at least,” Bumblebee said as he crossed his arms. He’d have to go through the whole profile a couple times to see if there was anything else helpful to be found there. “And did you find anything out about Breakdown?”

Fixit gave him the same bemused look he had when Bumblebee had first asked him, clearly not sure why he was interested in a former member. But still, his digits tapped away, but only to zoom in on where Breakdown was listed on Motormaster’s profile.

“Unfortunately sir, there isn’t much to be found. While he is listed in the Decepticon registry, he’s labeled as deceased, so like most Decepticons who died in the war, there hasn’t been any effort put into searching the former army’s archives for his files to transfer to the Autobot systems. The only information I have is what’s listed here.”

Which wasn’t much. Just a designation, a frame type (small four-wheeler, which had to be a mistake considering what Bumblebee remembered of the big brute), and (TRANSFERRED).

Still, it was a confirmation of Knockout’s connection to the Stunticons, as tenuous and outdated as it was.

“Don’t worry about it, Fixit. I was just curious. Tell me more about Motormaster.”

#fanfiction #i know the way i described the stunticon team is v different from how combiner teams are usually described #aka it's not really a gestalt in any way shape or form #but combining in rid15 is weird??#if you want a full explanation of my headcanon of the stunticon team and breakdown's relationship to them #and how i came to that headcanon conclusion #feel free to hit me up haha

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