#but starscream never ends up siring or anything like that - but it's still something people expect of him when he gets in (temporary)

[cosmicswritings]

so more reproductive but also body hate hcs for starscream. so he is a seeker, and seekers were created to be strong grade military bots, and when it comes to reproduction they were specifically created to sire. seekers themselves were not actually made to carry, they were seen as 'sires on demand' and it would be something that was expected of them because a sparkling sired by a seeker has extremely capable flight abilities and agility, but is also strong and sturdy.

starscream didn't like that, he didn't ever have the desire to be a sire or use his spike, but it was always something that was expected of him. so the whole thought that, due to his body type he had to be a certain way and it was expected of him, even by some romantic partners, made him really sick and it makes it difficult for him to get in romantic relationships or talk about starting a family. starscream only wants to exclusively carry but not a lot of people want that from him or expect that of him. he also had to go through procedures to get it done as well, to be able to carry and to completely remove siring capabilities/protocols from his system.

one of the many reasons he likes to change his body around so that he isn't associated with a seeker frame type when he gets into relationships.

[theoceanoasis]

Rodimus getting sparked by Soundwave and trying to hide it because they’re in the middle of a war but Soundwave finds out half way through & he is not happy Rodimus hid this from him

When he found out he was sparked he panicked. He was terrified and didn't know what to do. So many emotions rushed through him. He spent days agonizing over his choices. He couldn't believe his spark baffle had broken. Getting sparked seemed like something out of a nightmare.

His first thought was to get rid of it and that's what he originally planned. They were in the middle of a war. His sparkling would be forced to grow up in a broken world. It would be selfish to have a sparkling during that time. Not to mention who the sire was.

Soundwave, Decepticon third in command, would never want anything to do with the sparkling. He was too loyal to the Decepticons and would never leave them for him or their new spark. He was just a quick fling here and there. When they both needed some release.

He still debated telling him. Because Soundwave deserved to know, at least. Even if he knew it would only end in spark break. Soundwave would probably cut off all communication and then he'd really be alone. He wanted to tell him so badly. He didn't want to be alone during this, but he couldn't. Even if Soundwave rejected him and his sparkling. It would still put a target on their backs and it would put him at risk.

It was best to get rid of it and never tell Soundwave. No one needed to know who the sire was. If they did. Both of them could be killed for treason. Even though Soundwave didn't love him he did and he couldn't let him get hurt. He needed to protect him.

If anyone found out Soundwave had a sparkling much lesswith an Autobot. He would suffer gravely. People like Starscream would use it to their advantage. They'd blackmail him. Strip him of the position he worked so hard for. Megatron would either banish or kill him. He would lose everything and that wasn't fair. He shouldn't be punished, when he was the one who got sparked. He should have known his spark baffle was broken.

He never meant to keep the sparkling. He was going to get rid of it. Until he got news that Soundwave died. At the time he'd been devastated. With the death of Soundwave, it felt like his spark had been ripped out. While everyone else was celebrating he sunk into a depression. Looking at his belly he couldn't bring himself to kill the new spark. They were the last thing he had of Soundwave and maybe it was selfish, but he just couldn't do it.

Making his decision, the only thing he could hope for, was that the war ended before the new spark was born.

He never expected Soundwave to suddenly show up again, very much alive. The reports of his death being wrong. He'd felt a mix of emotions as he stared at the Decepticon. Again he debated telling him. He wanted to tell him. He was so lonely and carrying all alone was difficult. He was terrified of being a bad carrier. Of failing their sparkling. Being unable to raise them by himself.

He felt lost and confused. The more he debated. The more unwilling he was to tell Soundwave. He just couldn't bring himself to say the words. He was so scared and he knew Soundwave would leave him and he couldn't stand that. Not when he just got him back. He knew it was selfish and he tried to remind himself of his earlier reasons, for not telling him. He wanted to protect Soundwave and this was the only way. That's what he told himself over and over again. Whenever he felt guilty.

He never expected Soundwave to find out. He'd done such a good job hiding his carrying from Soundwave. He should have known better. Soundwave was the Decepticons spy master for a reason.

Eventually he found out. Coming back to his apartment one day. He'd been surprised to see him there. The Decepticon had confronted him. Demanding answers and he couldn't hold back the tears. He'd collapsed to the floor sobbing telling Soundwave that he understood if he hated him and wanted nothing to do with the sparkling. That he was sorry and that he should have known his spark baffle was broken. He was planning on getting rid of it and then he thought Soundwave was dead and he just couldn't get rid of it. He knew it was a bad time and that Soundwave didn't want it. He was so selfish and now Soundwave was in danger because of him.

Soundwave had stared at him in shock. He'd crouched down so they were at optic level. Even when he tried to hide his face in shame.

"What made you think I wouldn't want it?"

He stared up at Soundwave in shock.

"What?"

"I would have never abandoned you. I love you. I thought you understood that."

He stared at Soundwave in shock feeling tears in his optics.

"But the Decepticons?"

"Don't matter. You and our new spark are more important."

"You're not mad at me for being sparked?"

"Of course not. I'm upset that you didn't tell me. I should have known."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to ruin your career and everything you've worked so hard for."

"I don't care about being Megatron's third in command. Yes, being a Decepticon is important to me, it helped me gain freedom, but I won't stand by and let it destroy my family."

"What are we going to do now?"

"I want to be in the sparklings life. Even if I'm not an Autobot."

"I don't want to be alone. I want to come with you."

"But you don't want to be a Decepticon, not that it's safe."

Soundwave looked down at his swollen middle. Gently pressing a hand against it, he leaned towards him.

"What if we left?"

"What?"

He stared at Soundwave in shock.

"It seems like this war will never end. Optimus and Megatron are determined to rip each other apart rather than rebuild. I don't want our sparkling to grow up in a war or have parents who are on opposite factions. I think we should leave. Start over somewhere neutral. Where we can raise our sparkling together and they will know peace."

He continued staring at him in shock, while thinking it over. Leaving was their best option. He didn't want their sparkling to grow up in a war. As much as he loved the Autobots and his friends. He had to think about his family.

"Okay."

The two of them spent the night reuniting. Talking about their sparkling and coming up with plans to leave.

If you like that here's something similar.

[keaalu]

Drug Dealing

Although she appreciates the determination certain people have to cure her illness, Forceps wishes it didn’t leave her feeling like Starscream’s science project.

Reminder: Sepp has a type of motor imperfecta, or improper formation of motor control pathways. Symptom-wise it’s like Parkinson’s; origin-wise it’s more like a prion disease, which is why it’s so hard to find a cure for. But then some machines have a dogged tendency to treat definitions like “incurable” as a personal challenge.   

------------------------

Hardline hadn’t even been gone for a whole breem when the door to Forceps’ home clicked and admitted a familiar set of red wings.

Forceps set her journal down on the table, and watched her uninvited guest approach. “How long have you been lurking out there, waiting for Hack to leave?”

Starscream shrugged, in an artfully casual way, and tucked his wings in a little more neatly. “I do not lurk, thank you, doctor. Just a fortuitous coincidence.”

Her expression flattened. “Of course it was.”

“I find it very hurtful that you don’t believe me.” Not looking remotely upset, he fetched something out of his subspace. “But… I know the big lug doesn’t like me giving you these, so.” He dropped a small, surprisingly-heavy silver disc into her palm. “Convenient timing, really.”

She knew exactly what it was without having to devote many fractions of a second to studying it. “I don’t like you giving me these, particularly.”

Now the jet did look hurt, lips pulling into a little pout of displeasure. “Well any time you want me to stop researching a cure, just say so.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” She smiled, sadly, and patted the seat beside her. “And I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Starscream settled primly on the edge of the couch. “There’s a ‘but’ coming.”

Forceps looked away. “You always get my hopes up that this time, it’ll be the final time we need to do it.”

But it never is. And I’m weary of the constant disappointment.

He remained silent for a few seconds. “It’s still improving, though?” he prompted. “The patches last longer each time?” He sounded… strangely deflated. As if wondering if she’d been lying, to save his feelings.

“Yes. Every time, it lasts a little longer. But it always wears off, eventually, and I can never predict when that’ll be. Then I have to trust that I’ll be able to get it to reinstall.” She glanced sidelong at him. “I can’t trust myself with someone else’s life while there’s too many variables for me to be able to predict anything with any accuracy. Until then, I can’t go back to work.”

He sat and digested her words, quietly. “And what’s the part you’re carefully leaving out, because apparently we’ve stopped being honest with each other?”

“When it wears off, and my tremor comes back, it…” She swallowed the rest of the sentence, and revised it a little; “It’s disappointing.”

It crushes me, all over again.

She drew a sigh of cool air through her core. “I’m not sure how many more times I want to go through this cycle, when there’s still no end in sight.”

“You never struck me as the sort to let slag like this beat you.” He nudged her a little with his wing. “It’s important we keep at it. Eventually it will be the last time.”

“Yes, doctor.” She glared at him, good-naturedly. “You’ll never get a job as a counsellor.”

Starscream tried very hard but couldn’t quite hide his smirk. “I want another full scan at some point, to see how this one takes.” He wagged a finger. “The more data we have, the more likely we’ll isolate the last few fragments of code that are causing the last of the problems.”

“You know they say it’s incurable for a reason.”

He blew a dismissive raspberry through pursed lips. “Don’t give me that. The fact nobody has bothered to put time and money into research doesn’t make it-”

“-it’s a rare disease! It stands to reason researchers would spend their limited budget on the things they can actually cure.”

Starscream elevated his voice and spoke over her; “If you had been a noble during the Golden Age, it wouldn’t be a rare, incurable disease. Some obsequious little sycophant would have crawled up to you, accepted your money, and found a cure. The fact altruism never had a big budget doesn’t make a thing impossible.”

They stared each other out for a second or two.

“And this is why I’m not a noble. Can’t stand that… self-serving… pitslag.” Her friend made an effort to look scandalised at her language; Forceps gave him a shove. “Not to mention, I’d be dead from something else. Quite possibly, at your hand.”

He wouldn’t look away. “It was war.”

“And I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

He quirked a brow.

She flapped a hand. “Well. You know what I mean.”

“I know you're trying to change the subject.”

“Perhaps. I can't say I particularly enjoy talking about my illness.”

“We'll never cure it if we pretend it doesn't exist, either.” He gave her a chastising finger-wag. “You can’t tell me you’re happy as a teacher, dealing with a gaggle of irresponsible youths that barely listen to a word you vocalise.”

Forceps remained silent for long enough that neither needed to hear her answer, but she spoke anyway; “Somebody has to teach them. They might be the ones that end up looking after us, when we get rusted and incapable.”

This time, Starscream's snort of horror was genuine.

She smiled, and elbowed him. “Besides. One of them is your niece, remember?”

“Like I said. Irresponsible youths. The idea of Footloose looking after me? Is frankly terrifying.” He offered a small glare. “I’m not sure what you hope to achieve by indulging her. She’s never going to have the brains to make it as a surgeon.”

“Maybe not – but she could be a pretty good paramedic, if she’s serious and she puts her mind to it. She’s enthusiastic, she’s fast, and she’s good at finding people.”

The silence stretched out a little too long for comfort.

Forceps corrected herself, quietly; “Most people. Sorry.”

Starscream made one of those uninterpretable little noises that could have meant anything, from frustration to sorrow to pain. “And what happens when she gets bored, and goes off to find something else to do?” he challenged, trying (but mostly failing) to divert attention from his friend’s faux pas. “Don’t forget I lived with her sire for far too many millennia; a mech with a shorter attention span would be hard to find. This is why we have to find you a cure.” He stabbed a finger in her direction, to emphasise the point. “So when Footloose decides she’s bored, and is going to be a cartographer instead, for… maybe a fraction of a vorn… you won’t feel like you’ve wasted quite so much of your life-”

“Scarlet?” She waited for him to go quiet. “I appreciate your determination, but I can’t be the science project you need to keep you from thinking about Skywarp.”

He stared at her for several more seconds, lips open but no words emerging, before folding his arms protectively across his chassis and directing his glare at the floor, instead. “I should appreciate having a little peace and quiet, at last. It was hard enough to do energon research in the first place, without someone eating all your supplies.”

She set her fingers against his shoulder, and felt his hand come up to cover them for the fleetingest instant before dropping back to his lap. In spite of his defensive manner, he felt strangely flat. No longer the terror of the skies – just a sad, lost mech, trying to figure out how to mourn the loss of the family he’d chosen.

“It’s quiet, without him,” he accepted, at length. He studied his palms. “I haven’t been as productive as I would have liked.”

“Have you spoken to Pan?”

“Thundercracker’s psychiatrist?” Another snort, and the flash of a little glare in her direction. “I don’t need to be diagnosed. I just need to know where he is.”

And that, Forceps recognised, silently, was the core of it.

Her disease was a puzzle, but it was something he could at least work at. Measure, improve, test and retest… even make some headway, even if it was only ever fractional.

Skywarp’s disappearance began and ended at the Rift. There was nothing to measure, nothing to quantify, nothing to tell them whether they were on the right track or even going the right way.

Just endless digging, with nothing to show for it.

Thundercracker had quietly moved into accepting the loss of their brother, apparently adopting his two deputies as surrogate trine, but Starscream lingered doggedly somewhere between denial and depression – not to mention, denial of his depression. (The idea he might be struggling to cope was apparently something he refused to even contemplate.)

It did seem particularly unkind that after somehow surviving an eternity on the frontlines of war, such a simple, avoidable mistake was what would finally break them.

“I just want to find him, Sepp. Finally get some closure. Try to move on. Is that really so much to ask?” He covered his face with both palms and blew out a sigh. “We should be able to grieve! Figure out how to let him go, and move on, and we can’t even do that. Not while there’s still that chance…”

“It’s been six vorns already,” Forceps reminded, gently. “There’s got to come a point-”

“I know! I know.” He sounded exasperated, but mostly at himself. “He’s buried himself so deep in the bedrock, we’ll be digging for an eternity. Pit – we could dig up half the planet, and still not be any the wiser as to where he went. The idea we’re going to find even a scrap of paint is a sparkling’s optimism.” He finally offered a tired smile, optics a dim maroon. “But the last time I stopped looking for someone, it might have changed the course of a war. And not for the better. So forgive me for not wanting to throw down my shovel just yet.”

“Well please don’t throw it in my direction when you do decide to stop. Even before I got ill, I wasn’t particularly spry when it came to dodging projectiles.”

He snorted a sour laugh and gave her a little thump. “I gave up on Skyfire, but I’m not giving up on Warp.” He puffed himself up, subtly, wings raised and jaw set in a look of steely determination. “Or you. So you better get used to it.”

She pursed her lips and glanced away, in an effort to hide the subtle embarrassed flush in her golden optics. “You just miss having a personal physician to put you back together after you blow up your lab, you winged nuisance.”

Thankfully he took it in the spirit it was intended. “You’re confusing me with Wheeljack.” He wafted a hand, airily. “That Autobot is insane. The only scientist I know who finds it entertaining to blow up his own lab, while he’s in it.”

“Really? The only scientist? Because that’s not how I heard it happened, when I last spoke to Thundercracker.”

Starscream’s optics visibly widened before his arms tightened back across his chassis, and his voice descended into a poisonous hiss; “Traitor.”

Forceps found a laugh, and leaned against him; she felt him lean back, subtly.

“This disease took away my life,” she said, softly. “Small consolation, maybe, but… mall consolation, maybe, but...Thank you for helping me try to get it back.”