#scrapper ss

[soulsty]

It’s Fi’s birthday! (Nov 18th)

Ft. My new Hylia design, don’t be mean to her /j

[shapeshifter-rory]

fucking. Obsessed with drawing these little guys what???

They’re so silly he hasn’t a clue what’s happening rn

[link-is-a-dork]

[truthscrapper]

Truth Scrapper FAQ!

📚 What is Truth Scrapper? Truth Scrapper is a romantic fantasy mystery visual novel from the creator of In Stars and Time, coming to PC! Check out our website for more info 😁💖📚

📚 What is the gameplay like? As a visual novel, much of your time in Truth Scrapper is spent reading dialogue and interacting with characters. You will be able to make choices that influence the outcome of the story, and click to explore certain scenes or use specific items 💭⌛📚

📚 How long is it? We think maybe ten hours, but the game isn’t done yet, so we do not know! 🤔⌚❓

📚 How many endings are there? Truth Scrapper will have THREE unique endings/routes, including one “true” ending 💝🧵📚

📚 What is it made with? Truth Scrapper is made with Ren’Py 🥰💻💃

📚 Who is making it? Adrienne Bazir, aka insertdisc5, creator of In Stars and Time, Serre, and other things! We are also working with contractors for marketing, production, music, and SFX! (A complete list of credits will be available in the game.) 📸✨🎨

📚 Is there a demo? While there is currently no playable demo for Truth Scrapper, there will be one in the future! Be sure you sign up for our mailing list and follow our socials to be notified when it drops 💌📪📬

📚 When is it releasing? When it's done! 🤣😅😃

📚 What are the content ratings and trigger warnings? You'll be able to find more information about specific content and trigger warnings on our website closer to release. Truth Scrapper deals with some tough themes and mature content, though it is not a sexually explicit or significantly gory/violent title 😮😲😨

📚 Okay, but what do you mean by “toxic lesbians” in the marketing copy? Truth Scrapper is a game that features grown up characters with complicated feelings and lives who don’t always make the best decisions for themselves or one another. It is not a grim, dark game, but don’t expect to see a cast that would get a good grade in therapy here… 😁🔪😱

📚 Is this a sequel/prequel/at all related to In Stars and Time? insertdisc5 says: "Nope! Truth Scrapper is a whole new game, in a whole new setting! Of course, as you will discover, they will share many themes, but that’s just because I made it. I’m very grateful for the whole lot of love people have given Siffrin and the gang, and I hope in time you’ll find a spot in your heart for my terrible terrible girls."

📚 Betz uses he/they! Are they a girl? The three of them are some flavor of genderfluid. They are not necessarily women. But they are Girls! We hope that explains it 😁😄🥰

📚 How do you pronounce the main characters' names?

Sosotte: So-SUH-t

Amour: Ah-MOO-r

Betz: BET-ss

📚 What platforms is it coming to? Truth Scrapper will be released on PC, Mac and Linux, specifically for Steam, as well as other potential pc-only digital outlets such as itch.io! 😀🎉🎫

📚 Is the game coming to console? Never say never, but at this time, we have no plans to bring Truth Scrapper to console. We are a small team (one person, plus contractors!), and we want to be mindful of our resources. If this changes, we promise to tell you! 🎮🕹🃏

📚 What languages will it be in? Currently the only confirmed language is English, but we will be evaluating our costs and options for localization throughout development. This game will have a lot (a LOT) of words, so while we would love to bring it to as many languages as possible, we have to be mindful of our resources. Thank you for understanding! 💦💦💦

📚 How can I support the game? Be sure and wishlist Truth Scrapper on Steam, and follow us on socials! ⁠😍🥰💕

[lieutenant-mitch]

blurrbee drawing dumppp

yeah last one is a magnet reference and the 3rd one is kind of a ss redraw of scrapper and mixmaster in that one episode

[transformers-spike]

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. “You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding. 

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.” He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

[sh4rk-byt3s]

SIGH

so it's time i talk abt splatoon raiders !! while ive mostly been posting about salmon run , i ADORE deepcut . theyre my favorite idol group actually ! I was always disappointed how they were pretty sidelined in the story of their own game . getting sidelined by ss + the 3's in the main story , and they didnt get shit in soider besides some mentions ig . So you bet i was surprised , finding out Deepcut was going to star in their own spinoff game ! Splatoon Raiders . So here i'm gonna yap about my thoughts n theories . At the end of this ramble , there will also be a link to my friends video ! She did a video on youtube of her theories , and i share some with her . Also her video's pretty good i'd love if yall support her ! THIS RANT WILL NOT HAVE IMAGES , i'd recommend rewatching the trailer before reading . NOW TO MY THOUGHTS ! I'm in the boat that thinks Splatoon Raiders will be Salmon Run based in SOME way . I have a few reasons for thinking this so i'll get into some . I think the helicopter we see Deepcut in , is one loaned by Grizzco . Loaned or just fucking stole they couldve done that too lol . I think the person piloting the helicopter , may be a different person than our MC , mechanic . theyre shown limping , with Frye helping carry em . While Mechanic seemed PERFECTLY fine . Also to me , their eyes seemed more . yellow-y , while mechanic's are an orange red . I think they could be a Grizzco worker but who knows ? In the trailer , a tornado is shown . The only place in Splatoon we see tornadoes , is in Salmon Run . As it's one of the gimmick waves . { i adore tornado btw anyways } in said scene , on the ground you can see a green boot . i think it comes from a Grizzco Slopsuit . Which could imply that Grizzco workers have been on Spiralhite island , I've personally theorized that Spiralhite island used to be a Salmon Run spot , one we've just never gone to . Well until now . I believe Deepcut heard of the golden glow , got curious + wanted the moneee , and so they ventured to Spiralhite island . THIS NEXT THEORY I have alot of trust in . I HOPE THIS ONES TRUE . I think i know what the Eye at the end of the trailer was . i think . It's a new king salmonid . One whom Deepcut n crew awoke . And this king salmonid ? is the golden glow of Spiralhite island . The king Salmonid's in splatoon 3 function by , the more you play salmon run , the more your bar on the side of your screen goes up . The kings recognize your scent . More and more the more you play . And at some point you awaken them . Causing them to come out of the water to come kick your tiny inkfish ass . I THINK THATS WHAT DEEPCUT N GANG DID . I think this new king salmonid is going to be goldie based . As of course , i did say its the golden glow of spiralhite island . BUT IT COULD BE UNRELATED . I did have another theory of the golden glow , i just prefer the new king theory i dub it . Said other theory , being splatoon scrapping old ideas . IIRC Eggstra work was going to function differently . Being a harder ver of salmon run , with the bosses only dropping one egg thats 5X in size . SO the golden glow has the chance of being a giant fucking golden egg . I PREFER THE NEW KING THEORY THOUGH !! I also think Mechanic is . Kinda similar to a Salmonid . Mechanic is someone who takes scraps and makes inventions with them . You know who else does that ? THE FISH . some examples : The Steelhead uses trashbags as bombs , The Stinger uses pots to get up high , SCRAPPER . ITS IN THE NAME . maybe that'll be important . but it's just something i thought i'd point out . that's enough of my theorizing ... for now until we get more info . overall , i'm SUPER excited for Splatoon Raiders ! I'm excited to see my babies get the spotlight , and hopefully more development ! I HOPE SOME OF THIS IS TRUE .. As mentioned , here's the link to my friend video ! Check her out , she's amazing n her theories are good too ! https://youtu.be/FNmMmQQUYPc?si=ERUFfk6-mQgxTtlA

[saxandviolins77]

DEEPLY curious about your vision irt devastator and starscream, do you have any extended thoughts on that? (beautiful baseball piece btw! the pose is very dynamic, the colors rich, and i really adore how devious Devy looks in your style)

The general throughline is:

What if the bratty 60-year-old commander and the bratty 17-year-old living weapon had beef with each other?

Additional context undercut

So, I already mentioned this before, but Scrapper and Starscream are "divorced," and while Scrapper simply does not care for SS whole existence and finds him the most tiresome person he ever knew (especially after he enlisted), Starscream, on the other hand, LOATHES him. So much so that he goes out of his way to blow everything Scrapper does out of proportion to make him seem like an awful person (they both are, but Starscream is making shit up at this point).

Why am I talking about Scrapper and Starscream?

Because Starscream does not understand combiners. AT ALL. So he thinks Scrapper and Devastator are the same person and treats him accordingly. He thinks this way and refuses to change his mind because 1. thinking of Scrapper as this guy who gets the smallest bit of power and becomes an infantile attention-seeker loudmouthed jerk works great for the version of Scrapper he made in his mind, and 2. He can't grasp teamwork, so obviously the other Constructicons are lending their free will to that egocentric psycho!

Now, to our big teenager... He just wants a friend... Or just a meaningful relationship.

You see, most people either idolize Devastator or find him scary or disturbing (Decepticons included). So he doesn't have many people to talk to; Soundwave is his manager, but she made it very clear that their relationship is strictly professional, and she makes sure to not give any openings for any sort of "friendship" (he still thinks of her as his best friend).

SO STARSCREAM.

Starscream is the only guy on the Victory that dares to talk smack to Devastator (because in his mind Devy = Scrapper); at first, he's pissed because he has never experienced something like this before, so he treats Starscream as he would any upstart Autobot.

But Starscream keeps bickering with him and keeps treating Devastator as if they're old friends or something... So he starts playing into it and actually having a back-and-forth with him... And it's like... An actual conversation and Starscream treats him like a person!

Devastator very much hates Starscream's attitude and sometimes just smacks him, but he still has that weird urge to not be viewed by him as a dork, so he'll really play up his act to seem "cool". He also gets sick enjoyment when Starscream finds himself in a pickle and goes running to him for help (when not mindwashed, he'll happily use this as an opportunity to be a brat).

So uh... It's a very messy non-relationship where both sides have completely different ideas of what is going on in the other's mind... Except for Soundwave, who's looking from the sidelines and thinking: "Not my circus, not my monkeys... 😑"

SIDE NOTE: Lol, yeah, I think I did pretty well in that piece. Devastator is a pain in the ass to draw, and I insist on always drawing full bodies. Glad it could be read as a baseball pose (it's a windup because he'd be a pitcher... Because he canonically has a good throwing arm... Trust.) Also, suspend your disbelief because he could never pose like that in a real-world scenario, no kidding.

[the-laridian]

Overencumbered update

Oops, photo is crooked. Anyway! This week it's one of the most sought after scrap objects in the game... the desk fan! Source of tiny screws for scrappers everywhere!

There's only one item left to go and then it's backstitching!

Reply/reblog with "xs-tag" to be added to tag list

@rosespacesingout @the-lastcall @pvttwinkletoes @ajdkn @k-peasants @30-th-century-man @b1adelight @ss-bullseye @weewooitssmeb @darkfire1177 @funkylittlepenguin @molliehaswords @valentineenjoyer @typosandtea-reblogs @bleumanouche @sassenashsworld @violavpurple @holorifle

[soulsty]

Fi art for the ending of asexual week :]

It was her week 🖤🩶🤍💜

[sunfloo-wers]

So, ss link does woodworking, yeah? He’s got all those carvings and carving tools in his room in the academy, yeah?

what if Groose did metalworking? They could trade little trinkets C: Gondo (the guy who fixes up Scrapper) could teach him

I will also settle for Groose doing quilting, I don’t know I just feel like he would enjoy it (brash teenage boy and old lady on the surface together and there’s a bunch of quilting supplies in the back corner of the stone building right outside the sealing grounds: the quilting supplies are NOT the old lady’s)

[link-is-a-dork]

[brandwhorestarscream]

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 🤭

[mareislandfoundation]

Mare Island Submarine

Photograph showing the conning tower of a World War II submarine as her periscope appears to cleave the sky above.  Over 500 ships were built during the 142 years Mare Island Naval Shipyard served the Nation.  Those ships ranged from wooden hulled sidewheeler gunboats to a massive battleship, but it was because of the shipyard’s expertise with the complexities of submarine construction that it became known as a submarine yard in later years.  All but one of the Mare Island built ships have fallen victim to scrappers torches or they lie on the ocean bottom, victims of the sea or enemy action.  The USS Silversides (SS-236) is the lone surviving ship.   She is a museum ship in, of all places, Muskegon Michigan. She is a Gato Class fleet-type submarine built at Mare Island just prior to the outbreak of World War II. She was christened by Mrs. James J. Hogan, wife of Dr. Hogan, Vallejo's civilian representative in Washington, and founder of Council No. l, Navy League, in Vallejo. Dr. Hogan was convinced that Mare Island was Vallejo's lifeblood, and he was one of its most effective champions until his death in 1942. Silversides was launched on August 26, 1941, and she was commissioned one week after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Silversides departed on her first war patrol on April 30, 1942, for which she was credited with sinking four ships and damaging one. She went on to establish one of the top submarine combat records in the Pacific.  Her record reflected more war patrols than all but 5 submarines, while sinking the third greatest number of ships (23), totaling 145,400 tons. During these patrols, the quality of her construction allowed her to escape undamaged following seventeen counterattacks by the Japanese where a total of 163 depth charges were dropped. Following the war, Silversides was towed up the Mississippi River with her superstructure removed to permit passing under bridges. She then became the submarine training ship at Great Lakes Training Station where she continued to serve until 1969. She has been on display at the USS Silversides Submarine Museum in Muskegon, Michigan since 1987. 

Dennis Kelly

[baileyboo2016]

Headcanon that Link hands scrapper over to Lanayru after ss like “IVE HAD IT”

[feotakahari]

A few Scrapyard Station subcultures

Metalheads: no, not music fans. These are Tinkers who replace a patch of their skull with metal. It’s meant to be a symbolic representation of the brain surgery Tinker soldiers require in order to fight Parasites, and it shows their support for the war effort. In practice, it also shows they hate everyone who isn’t a Tinker. Real-life equivalent: somewhere between people with “we support our troops” bumper stickers and people who wear replica Waffen SS pins.

Scraggles: Nomads who let their floof grow long and unkempt. They still do enough maintenance to avoid matting, but they don’t bother looking attractive or even presentable by Nomad standards. They encourage others to not worry about whether their fur looks bad and not put so much daily effort into being as prettified as possible. Real-life equivalent: you might think of women who don’t wear makeup, but since Nomads don’t have genders, they’re actually closer to old-fashioned punks.

Entitled: Steward religion doesn’t have a complete stranglehold over their species, and these folks openly and proudly reject it. Unfortunately, what they reject is the part about environmentalism. Since the Goddess never returned, she no longer has a claim on their world, and they declare their right to do anything they wish with what she left behind. These are also the only Stewards who want anything to do with cybernetics, though their compatibility isn’t nearly as good as Tinkers. Real-life equivalent: Richard Dawkins if he was the CEO of Exxon.

Plainsfolk: essentially, these are to Riders what the Pure are to Tinkers, but even more so. The Pure at least accept enough medical technology to keep from dying early, and enough transport and weapons technology to wage their crusade against Parasites. Plainsfolk don’t even want agriculture, let alone vaccines. On the plus side, they’re not sexist or homophobic like the Pure often are. Real-life equivalent: those tribes that kill anyone who tries to talk to them.

Scholar Warrens: most Scholars maintain an “unconnected” hive mind, with essentially the same personality and pre-death memories as their donor. But some embrace the potential for hives to join together into a single entity. The self matters less to them than the quest for knowledge, and it’s common for these mega-hives to split off an individual to have separate experiences and learn separate things before joining the collective again. (A “rogue” hive may decide not to rejoin the collective, but this is a minority of another minority in what’s already a minority race.) Real-life equivalent: maybe some kind of cult?

*Glopping sound*, *glapping sound*, *gloaping sound*: only Scrappers can remember the differences between these, but they’ll scrap with you if you confuse one for another. “How dare you! We’re nothing like those honorless *glupping sound*!” Real-life equivalent: an Armenian who’s just been told he’s “basically the same” as a Turk.