#sparklet

[raaaaaauhrawr]

[furryeaglebarbarian]

Photon blazon

HEEEY,RODY AND KILLIX AND FRIENDS!!!!How do you like my new improvements?

[tillfate]

i've never drawn them before

[witchofthesouls]

How tiny would the second set of sparklings be after Overlord?

Very tiny and delicate as they're really premature. Their saving grace was that their forms were nearly settled and had begun the bulking phase.

Nickel was able to drop them inside an incubator, so their bodies could stabilize more and hopefully get more weight on them. And had a screaming match with some 'con medical personnel. She stole joints and sliced cabling since she's at the perfect height for knees and ankles before kicking people out.

It's unfortunate that the Decepticons don't have a blacksmith that's experienced with neonatal care, but there's a Prion medic and Camien nurse from Order the Luminara that made some plans.

Because the three are itsy-bitsy, they wear onsies for better thermoregulation. They're either sleeping or eating as they have severely limited reserves.

Tarn has upgraded to perch since all three can curl into the nook between his neck and collarfare, which is far easy to keep track of them since all three can fit in his palm and still have room to squirm around. The split-sparks are grumpy because that was their favorite spot, and they got kicked out to his chassis.

Nurse is grumpy because of the healing process, and the lack of biolights on their armature means Tarn's cozier to all the sparklings' senses.

[rist-ix]

Sadly I did NOT manage to write a word basically all week so I’m sorry to say the sparklet I promised u remains unfinished. BUT. Have this snippet for christmas:

To be feared is a power many underestimate. A power almost as great as magic itself, and in some situations even greater — a comparison he does not make lightly.

Fear is shield and sword at once, a spell with unlimited range, its only boundary the speed at which word-of-mouth can travel.

But fear, like any weapon, requires ammunition.

For a man like Valtor, there is certainly no lack of reasons to fear him. But he is intimately aware that to sustain his greatest ally, he needs to sustain his reputation.

To be untouchable, he has to seem untouchable.

To be feared, he has to look the part.

“That’s all very nice,” Solaria's Royal Seamstress comments, unamused. “But that still doesn’t tell me why I should accept your comission.”

He sighs, feigning irritation, and leans against the counter of her shop.

“Such indifference in the face of my plight!” he laments, before propping his chin up on his hand. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Telaseta.”

“Charm won’t help you this time, fiend. You have yet to pay me for the last time I fixed your wardrobe, and my kind has an excellent memory.”

Madame Telaseta, master of her craft and champion of holding grudges, clatters past him on her eight spindly legs. He looks after her with a hearty shrug, turning to inspect her latest handiwork instead.

“I would have gladly done so,” he insists over his shoulder. “Your work is without equal, and I was more than satisfied when I received that coat of yours. Unfortunately, I took a quite involuntary detour to Omega shortly after, and did not have the opportunity to compensate you until now.”

There's noise coming from the clothing racks to his right, and when he looks over, he sees Telaseta gut an expensive looking gown with even more expensive looking shears, emerging victoriously with a blue silk ribbon.

“Pah! Did not have the necessity to, you mean! I know you wizards, with your tricks and flatteries. You only come crawling when you want something from Old Telaseta. If only I were still young, ah, still that handsome linphean debutante…”

She sniffles theatrically, and he rolls his eyes before dutifully patting her hand in comfort.

“But Madame Telaseta,” he chides her, appalled. “In all the years I have known you, you have only ever grown more beautiful. No one in their right mind would disagree with me, I know it!”

She sniffles once more, the colorful jewelry she's draped all over herself clinking.

“I have, haven’t I? Well, I suppose we can’t all be ageless like you, fiend.”

Deciding she's had enough sweet talk for the day, she drops his hand to climb vertically up the wall and grab another roll of fabric, comparing the color to her newly cut ribbon. He follows her on her crusade through the labyrinth of clothing on display, all the way into the entrance of her opulent atelier.

“Let's say I were inclined to forgive you your negligence, young man,” she titters, seemingly satisfied with her choice. “What would my payment look like, this time? I’m afraid I’ll have to demand it upfront.”

“My generous, benevolent Telaseta,” he proclaims humbly, before opening his hand and summoning a little velvet satchel to his palm. “I thought you might say that.”

She drops from the wall after a moment, her arachnid lower body catching her fall with ease.

“Gemstones from Isis,” she purrs with an impressed look inside. “You always did know how to make the right friends.”

“What can I say? I have many talents.”

“As do I. Now, show me that poor coat of yours.”

A snap of his fingers summons the garment in question, in all its tattered glory.

“There were a good few dozen protection spells woven into those seams,” his tailor of trust mutters under her breath as she inspects the damage. “Gotta redo all of that. And the singe marks, dah! What kind of dastardly devil did you tangle with this time, to ruin all that hard work?”

He would answer with a friendly quip. Something charming, undoubtedly. But before he can even think to do so, there's a warm, familiar tingle at the back of his head, and then the door to the main room swings open with a ring of the bell.

“Hello?” a voice, that voice, calls into the shop, and he feels his hackles rise at the sheer presence filtering into the room, feels every fiber of his being seize with anticipation. “I'm here to pick up an order for…”

Her gaze meets his.

Lovely, dazzling blue eyes wide with surprise as she stands there, frozen mid-movement. He feels transported, moved all the way back to the last time he'd seen her in person. When her lips had been swollen and her hair disheveled, when his touch had been etched into her skin with pale red marks. When he had been ecstatic at simply holding her; already reeling with the loss of her, knowing she'd slip through his fingers yet again.

But here she is, here they are.

Reunited, the two of them. As it always should have been.

“Ah,” Telaseta chirps. “A customer!”

And then Bloom's eyes shift to her and she jumps, squealing like a child in a horror house.

“Never heard that before,” the seamstress deadpans, rolling her eyes. “Children these days. In my youth we had some respect for our elders, or we'd be spun in silk and digested!”

Valid as her point may be, she uses two of her spindly black spider legs to underline it with gesturing, and Bloom's entire scalp catches on fire in response.

Telaseta looks from her to his coat.

“Huh,” she says.

Then she scrambles on to find a fire blanket, leaving him and Bloom alone.

The latter is still staring shell-shocked after the arachne by the time he reaches her, though that might in part be due to his speed: he is unwilling to bear even an inch of distance between them, now that she's here.

“You should consider to stop staring, little fairy,” he tells her, guiding her eyes back to himself. Cannot help but smile when he brings his hand to her forehead and brushes her hair back over her scalp, stifling the flames below his palm as he goes. “It's quite rude.”

She has just enough time to open her mouth in indignation before his own descends on her, swallowing her no doubt outraged reply.

He cannot wrap his head around it.

That she is here, as if the Stars themselves wanted to drop her in his lap once more, and that he could have gone so long without her. His fingers are splayed out against the side of her jaw, preventing her from pulling away, her own hands grasping the collar of his shirt for balance, and he can’t believe it’s been almost an entire month since the catacombs.

Bloom's lips are softer than silk as she gasps into his mouth, presses back against him with a tentative little shove. When he pulls back to look at her, glassy eyed and out of breath, he's all but drunk on affection. For his elusive, coat-burning, dastardly little devil.

“Hello,” he smiles against her forehead, pulling her against him.

“You're here,” is here stunned reply, and he all but preens at the happiness coloring her voice.

Cannot believe it is here, in the brightly-painted shop of a solarian tailor, that he finally meets her again, when he expected some grand battle or a scandalous, secret encounter, hidden from prying eyes. No, when they should have never been separated in the first place. He buries his face in her hair and breathes in the fire and magic still clinging to her, the floral scent of her shampoo and the electric, prickling traces of a recent teleportation.

He should have kept her with him like a pocket watch on a chain; tied to him, never out of reach. To feel her with him at every small movement, every step he took. Now, with her spell-heated little body in his arms and her breath fanning out against his neck, he cannot fathom how he ever let her leave.

Before remembering that he did not have his powers, that day, after so narrowly evading his death.

He cannot help but notice that he does have them now. His grip on her tightens, just marginally, a nearly imperceptible tension seeping into his hands.

But something about that idea must have translated through their traitorous tether, happily spilling all his thoughts for her, because he blinks and she is gone, almost across the entire room.

Bloom raises her chin. A clear, obvious challenge.

“Try it,” she says. “See what happens.”

Oh. Oh how he yearns to.

Hungers to bare his teeth and answer her demand in determination and raw magic, wants to see her eyes spark with the thrill of a fight. But he's painfully aware that Madame Telaseta's shop is very, very flammable, and not likely to survive their little sparring match.

And he really wants that coat back.

“Try what?”, he asks, innocently folding his hands behind his back. “Always so suspicious, Bloom. I thought you knew me better by now.”

[blusteringoldfoolarchived]

(Blubrownrpblog) Undex was asleep in his room, well temporary room in kups quarters until he was instantly woken up by the smell of energon.

Undex enter the room wiping his optic “Grandsire? Did you cook something?” He asked tiredly.

Kup was cooking, er finishing cooking a large mess of food. Neatly plated on the counter. He hears Undex walk in and tilts his helm, "mornin sleepy spark."

"Ah humans have these weird celebrations I figured I'd make something of one here." He smiles,

[squidinkarchives]

50's Streamline Sparklet Refillable Soda Siphon

Source: Amelia, Ohio Style Up the World

[robotgirl95]

This was how I felt after I had a car accident that drastically changed my life. I had tried to learn to knit a few years before the accident and couldn’t grasp it. As part of my recovery after I knit my first square and it really did feel like

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world maybe I’m just 25.

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

[drill-bits]

Carriage

A guide to stages and movements and terms of carrying a sparkling to term (with supplemental diagrams)

Creation Types

Edited June 3, 2025: Carrier bulking and strengthening

First Event: Spark Merge

Merging of sparks, forms the sparklet (extremely early stage sparkling which is incapable of sustaining itself beyond the carrier’s corona).

Demonstrated below in figures 1-4

Term One: Sparked

Sparklet is attached to carrier’s spark, held within the corona (see fig. 5). At this time, carrier becomes lethargic and sensitive to any sort of spark strain (physical or emotional).

During this stage, the sparklet can be reabsorbed without issue if the carrier is under too much stress (basically, if physically unwell, carry will not proceed and terminate itself).

Ex. Effects of war would prevent sparkling from developing beyond first term

Carry is undetectable beyond very precise medical scan at this time. If reabsorbed/self-terminated, carrier may experience mild and temporarily abnormal spark rotations.

First Movement: Separation

Sparklet separates from carrier’s spark and enters orbit around it.

Carry is now obvious to carrier.

Term Two: Orbit

Sparkling begins orbiting carrier’s spark (see fig. 8)

Gestation tank and forge begin building the sparkling’s protoform, initiating creation protocols to take in more fuel and repair nanites necessary to manufacture sentio metallico. In some cases, referred to as “primordial gestation”.

Orbit continues until protoform is fully built.

Carriers begin to develop reinforced armor and “bulking up” in legs, back, and waist struts to carry the load.

Carry can be picked up on regular scans.

Second Movement: Descent

Sparkling leaves carrier’s orbit and descends into the waiting protoform.

Detachment is extremely painful. Movement is excruciating and carrier is at high risk throughout duration of descent.

Term Three: (final) Gestation

Carrier’s T-cog freezes, preventing full transformation (beyond cosmetic/external movements such as panels, ports, and weaponry). Carrier protocols enable freezing without risk of carrier going into shock.

Sparkling’s frame begins developing features and qualities as ascribed by spark coding and coding taken from construction nanities.

Depending in frame type, sparkling may develop certain features first. (See above graphic)

Carrier begins craving minerals and additives to assist in building sparkling frame and armor. Materials are specific to sparkling frame requirements.

Carrier’s back and leg struts are reinforced to support the sparkling’s increasingly dense and heavy little body (eating for two). Carrier also becomes more armored (immovable object) and gain strength disproportional to their size class.

Event: Emergence

Sparkling emerges from carrier’s body. The carrier’s t-cog reactivates suddenly and forces the carrier into a position of rest where they can then open their internal casings so that sparkling can be removed/extracted or ejected.

[starheavenly]

https://www.tumblr.com/starheavenly/774872421568299008/drift-and-all-his-babies-from-different-universes

I love how OG!Locket is sulking in bed. Even when surrounded by their alternate versions, they’re still the smallest bot in the group—and they know it. That pout speaks volumes, and let’s be honest, they’re probably jealous of the attention their counterparts are receiving from Drift. Of course, they’d never admit it outright, but you can see it in the way they’re lying there, stewing in quiet indignation. Classic Dramatic Baby 1.

D!Locket, on the other hand, looks like they’re plotting world domination from under the blanket. They are probably

scheming to take out the others. Since they believe they are superior to their counterparts. And to reclaim what they see as their right, Drift’s attention and affection. Again probably not that they would admit it. Dramatic Baby 2

A!Locket, poor thing, looks utterly overwhelmed. They’re probably overthinking everything about this situation, especially when it comes to Drift. Since they chose to follow Ratchet in their own universe, they might be worried that Drift doesn’t love them anymore. And being sandwiched aside two grumpy, intimidating versions of themselves definitely isn’t helping their nerves. You can just see the anxious thought spirals: “Does drift hate me? Does Drift even want me here? What if I’m not good enough?”

Then there’s SG!Locket—poor baby finally getting the love they’ve always dreamed of. After everything they’ve endured, being able to rest in the warmth of Drift’s affection must feel like a miracle. You can almost hear their relieved, content thoughts: “He loves me back. He really loves me!” It’s such a heart-wrenching contrast to the life they’ve known, and you just know they’re holding on to every second of this rare kindness. (OG!Drift would absolutely despise his Shattered Glass counterpart, SG!Drift. It wouldn’t just be dislike—it’d be pure, murderous hatred for what that twisted version represents.)

And Drift? He’s having the absolute best moment of his life. His spark is practically glowing as he’s there, surrounded by his precious sparklet and their alternate versions. Every one of them is a piece of his family, and he loves them all dearly, no matter their quirks or histories. Drift’s thoughts are simple yet deeply heartfelt:

“They’re all so precious. I’ll stay right here and make sure they’re safe and happy. Nothing will ever hurt them while I’m around.”

I believe that if given the chance, Drift would steal all of them without hesitation.

YES YES YES people analyzing a silly picture of all of them tucked in bed...

Main Locket, the usual suspect.

D!Locket: Views everyone as lesser than them

A!Locket: SEVERE anxiety and self esteem issues

SG!Locket: Sweet little thang <333

[earthsparked]

Sparking Flames

Part Four | one two three four intermission five (AO3 link)

You wake up with a short gasp, confused and fumbling in the dark. No idea where you are, or why you smell a sickening-sweet mixture of dried blood, ozone, pine tar, and...new car smell? You're moving. There's glowing lights on the dashboard. You're in an unfamiliar car, no seatbelt on, conked out in the passenger seat. It's so calm and familiar, reminiscent of long car rides when you were a child, that it takes you a second to realize there's nobody next to you in the god damn driver's seat.

You come all the way awake already lunging for the steering wheel, throwing yourself across from the passenger side and trying to smash the brake down. The wheel won't turn. The pedal won't depress. When the car's engine gives a weird rev and swerves a bit, you shriek incoherently. You've had stress dreams just like this. Next it's going to bounce off the road and into deep water, somewhere, then your teeth will fall out and you still won't have studied for that final exam for the college class on ancient Roman literature you don't remember signing up for.

A voice comes from nowhere and everywhere, alarmed. Whoa! Easy, sparklet, let up on that will you? Scared the coolant out of me, Primus! Do all humans jump out of recharge like that?

What, who. Robot?! Where are you? you ask foggily, grabbing for the door handle in a bid to jimmy it open. Then you cling to it in shock when you realize how fucking fast you're going. Bailing out is not an option unless you want to die in a spectacular splatter of gore on the blacktop. You're grooving down a highway that you don't recognize, but there are thick trees on either side of the road. You could almost believe you're in a self-driving car, but it's too smooth, too quiet, and way too fast. You glance at the speedometer and feel a little sick when you catch the reading, well over 100 miles an hour. How in the hell is this car taking these winding roads at these speeds without crashing?

Oh, so you're the DAMAGED, kind of damaged. Fragging 'Cons.. it grumbles. It's me. I am the car. Remember? Roddy? Hot Rod? Your hero in bitching awesome flame paint that totally looks just like Optimus Prime's? Saved you from Brawl and Ravage? C'mon, sparklet, don't tell me you got a memory wipe in the last couple klicks. Is that, like, normal for humans when they recharge, or do I gotta go Mach Primus to get you to a medic?

...Roddy? you ask, suspiciously, sinking back down into the (luxuriously comfortable) seats. You jolt when the car's seatbelt independently slides over you and locks into place.

So that's what those are for, he says in an ahh, now I get it, tone. Didn't really bother to look much at the cabin specs when I chose this alt mode, just the space for what's under the hood. Needed something that can take the heat, 'cause I'm just that kind of mech, you know?

His rambling is almost soothing, each weirdly enthusiastic, cheerful word calming you. As your pounding heart starts to slow, you fully come back to yourself, memories returning in a wave...

The robot slides down the cliffside with its hand crushing rock along the way, rappelling without a line, with you clutched protectively against its chest. It's a drop zone ride from hell, with no safety bars and a long way down. Just when you think you can't take the disorientation anymore, it leaps the final distance to the ground with a boom – taking the impact entirely on its legs, with barely a tremor getting through to you. It's honestly kind of impressive.

Who are you? you ask, finally, once you're sure you're not about to black out. What in the absolute fuck is happening? Where'd you come from? Why were you fighting those other robots? Why'd you protect me? Why did that one look like a metal mountain lion?

The robot looks down at you with unrestrained glee. You get the impression it's been looking forward to you asking some of those questions. The thought that someone was so interested in talking to you sends a pleasant little flutter through your heart. For a second you think it's about to stop and put you down so it can preen – there's something so young, and energetic, and good-natured about it, though why you feel that way, you're not even sure. But it shakes itself and strides into the woodland. You're well past the hiking trails down here, thanks to the shortcut, and the direction it picks isn't even one you're familiar with.

I'm Hot Rod, Autobot. Better known as Roddy, Rodders, Speedster, Speed Demon, The Pit On Wheels, fastest mech on either side of Andromeda, right-hand mech to Optimus Prime himself -! And..you don't know what any of that means, do you. When you shake your head no, it deflates a little, making you realize that it had puffed up its plating like a peacock ruffling its train. Uh, I'm really a big deal. I'm important, and fast, and I kick 'Con ass. That's all you really need to know.

But I'm not a robot, it corrects firmly, as it pushes through trees. Wincing as yet more leaves get stuck in various places in-between its armor. Robots aren't sentient. I'm a mech. And a - hm, you'd call it a "badass dude." Organics have gender, don't you? What gender are you?

Um, you say, but he keeps on going, both through the woods and running his mouth.

So, Autobots. We're the good guys. We're all from a planet called Cybertron, but the Decepti-dicks are a bunch of slaggers who follow their leader Megatron like their olfactory bulbs are welded to his tailpipe. He's all "look at me, I'm big and scary and I turn into a tank, so I can roll over everyone who stands in my way, hurr hurr." I could take him, he says, conspiratorially. But I just got here on the planet like, today. So I haven't had the chance yet.

Ah, you say, somehow more confused than before.

He seems to notice in that weird way he has, as if he knows what you're thinking, or feeling, or something. He gives you that same soft smile he had back in the middle of the battle.

Look, it's an old war that old mechs have been fighting forever, and then shit happened and a bunch of mechs all ended up on your planet, a while back. Optimus Prime, our leader, sent out a call for reinforcements to help protect you little guys, 'cause the 'Cons don't give a flying frag about organics. Like to stomp you for fun, even.

But you said Revenge -

Ravage, he corrects. Primus though, that'd be an amazing name. I like your language.

Ravage, you said he wouldn't just kill organ- um, humans, out in the middle of nowhere. So what was he doing there? Why did he kill those people? And who were they, what were they doing there in the fire tower? I thought it was weird they had a lot of really advanced-looking radio equipment, not the kind of stuff most of the lookout towers have. And what does this have to do with the attack in town?

Dunno! he said, and you can't miss the glint of excitement shining from him. He's worried, sure, but he's thrilled too. But we're gonna find out. This has gotta be why they attacked your town, earlier. Ravage said maybe we're looking for the same thing they are. Energon? That's that pink stuff you're wearing, but in crystal form. We use it for fuel. But, our scans didn't show any significant deposits around here, so it can't be that. And humans don't have any real use for energon anyway, so what would those guys you talked to want with it?

So it can't be that. They called me a civilian, you remember, piecing it together now that you're not in the full-on grip of expecting to die any second. That means they had to be military. Or maybe, ex-military?

That's a disturbing thought. There's plenty of weird guys with way too many guns lurking around, with really scary and bigoted ideas, but you'd never thought there would be such a group near your tiny town. On the other hand, if they had access to a helicopter and that kind of advanced equipment – that sounded a lot more like some kind of para-military, or James Bond bullshit, not racist nutjobs.

...though you supposed they could be both, which was not an encouraging thought.

Hot Rod didn't, unfortunately, ease your fears. He frowned as he carefully stepped over a little brook, feet sinking into the wetland with an uncomfortable squelch. Can't be military. Optimus and his team made contact with your military ages ago. They even set us up with a base of operations and some supplies, though they're trying hard not to let anybody know we exist. There's this weird intelligence agent, Fowler? I met him this morning. Bet he's having a whole litter of turbofox pups over this slag.

You let that knowledge percolate a while. It wasn't too terribly surprising your government had knowledge of aliens and were trying to keep it a secret. You had to wonder if maybe Guillermo del Toro had ever run into one of these Cybertronians.

Because you were in danger, Hot Rod says suddenly.

Huh?

You asked why I protected you. 'Cause I'm an Autobot, and that's what we do. Help people in danger.

There's a straightforward earnestness to him that's very nearly innocent in its honesty. You're learning quickly that he's a robot - er, mech of intense feelings, not good at hiding anything. You find it makes it easier to trust him. There's probably no chance this guy could keep a secret to save his life. He really means what he says. He even came after you when you disappeared from the battle, even though it meant following your trail through terrain that was not friendly to him.

It starts to sink in you've somehow managed to gain the protection of a giant alien mech. Your own personal jaeger, with bright blue eyes and an easy smile, a funny sense of humor, a quick temper and a big, brave heart.

Though you'd need to have a talk about his tendency to go all Spider-Man without a word of warning, while holding you.

You lean into his chest, where you can feel something like static electricity, something like a heartbeat under your touch. You lean your head against him, a moment of trust. No human had ever done anything like this for you. And here was an alien, only on the planet a day, and even though you'd met him in the worst way possible, you already knew you'd never forget him or his kindness.

Thank you, Hot Rod. For saving me. I didn't get the chance to say it, before. I'm pretty sure you've saved my life at least twice now. So, if that's what being an Autobot is about, you're great at being one.

You'd expected some cheerful bluster, but what you get is a sudden heating of his armor, even some flames licking out of the pipes along his shoulders. You look up at him, and find him staring at you with a sort of startled expression more at home on a doe-eyed fawn that a giant alien mech.

People don't tell you that very often, do they? you softly guess from his reaction. You busy yourself with plucking bits of pine bark and pine needles out of the seams of his armor.

Sure they do! Hear it all the time, he bluffs, and it's so painfully human that you feel dizzy. How can these mechs be so much like you?

Anyway, Ravage looks like that 'cause he's an animal-form symbiont. He's small 'cause he's one of a contingent of several symbionts bonded with this weird fragger named Soundwave. You ever run into a big, spindly mech with a strange voice? Run. There's tentacles.

Hot Rod shudders, and you decide you really don't want to know.

That's about it. The plan now is to put some distance between us and that tower, which would be a lot fragging easier if your stupid planet wasn't covered in this green stuff. Any more questions, sparklet?

Just one. Where are we going?

His strides falter and he looks at you with an expression you can only describe as sheepish. Uh. Was kind of hoping you would know.

When you start to scowl, his face breaks apart into a laugh, and you feel his chest heaving with it. Oohh, the look you just gave me! No, no, sorry, we're cutting through the woods to get to the next highway over. I have um, what do your people call it...GPS? I'm not gonna get us lost. But we gotta make sure we lose -

Then you hear it, the thing you'd been fearing was going to descend on you this whole time, even though the conversation had been a nice distraction. It's the thudding blades of a helicopter, coming closer. Roddy gives a start - had he not been paying attention?!

Hot Rod, they're coming! Do something! you exclaim.

He sounds about as serious as you've ever heard him sound. Right, can't run, time to hide. And then he does...something.

He folds himself around you. One minute you're in a giant robot's hands. The next, the whole world comes apart in a tornado of metal. You catch a single bright flash of light, a lick of flame, and then you're blinking at finding yourself in the passenger seat of the most expensive sports car you've ever seen in your life. You feel too poor just to let your butt touch the seat made of ...it's probably leather? Alien leather? From alien cows? It's sinfully soft, and warm, and you hadn't realized you'd gotten so cold. But the sun has just about set, and you are so, so beyond tired.

Do I even want to know, you say, leaning back against the seat. Why you didn't tell me you can turn into a car?

You didn't ask, he says, predictably, but with the glee of a toddler getting to make that joke for the first time in his life. Now, shh. My cabin is soundproof but my engine throws off a lot of heat. I gotta run silent. No way they'll see us under all this plant life, their radar's gonna scatter all over. Just sit tight, human.

Not human, you mumble sleepily.

Huh? You're not?! Then what the frag are you? he exclaims, jostling on his tires despite himself.

You snort. My name, you goofball. It's not "human." My - designation is...

You tell him, and he repeats it several times, using different inflections. Does that help him remember? Or do robots - er, mechs - just record things for remembering later?

I like it. What does it mean? Did you pick it yourself? Where were you sparked, anyway? Where do humans come from?

Quiet, you remind him, hiding from scary people. Shh. You can't hear the rotor blades anymore, or see searchlights in the sky. They've passed over you, whoever they are.

Warm, comfortable, not alone, if not at all that safe – you fell into a much-needed sleep.

Only to waken hours later, well after dark, confused but slightly better rested.

You lean back into Hot Rod's seats, which you're pretty sure are heated. It's incredible how smooth the ride is. If you'd had any doubts that what you're sitting in isn't a human-made vehicle, that alone would have erased them. It's like riding on air, and the surety with which he steers you is more like a falcon navigating an air current than a human driver trying to steer a two thousand-pound metal deathtrap down backroads of a conservation forest.

You want to go back to sleep, and he tells you that you can. I'm doing some patrolling before we go back to your town. Hoping to catch something on my sensors that could explain what the frag is going on here.

But your stomach growls loudly enough that it sparks a conversation in hurt tones about why are you growling at me, what did I do?! (You're starting to think he's a wee bit sensitive, your new giant alien mech protector.)

I can't remember when I ate last, and - fuck, you groan, as your injuries give a horrid throb. The brief burst of adrenaline had warded it off, but now your side, hip, and most of your body was hurting fiercely. You had raw scrapes from the road rash, and should probably start getting worried about infection.

I really need a doctor. And a bath. And some new clothes. Or at least a place I can wash up.

Yeah, poor little guy, you really got knocked around, he says sympathetically, with just enough condescension that one of your eyes twitches. Ratchet - that's our chief medical officer, he read me and Drift and a bunch of the other guys all these ways to kill a human, so we wouldn't do them. You're like protoforms, you're so - soft.

You'd take more offense to it if his tone wasn't so full of wonder. Though it's hard for you to understand how your smelly, banged-up, completely imperfect body could hold any wonder for anyone, right now, let alone The Pit on Wheels, whose alt mode was probably worth more than some people's entire life earnings.

I think there's a rest stop up ahead, you say, squinting as the sign blows past in the rearview mirror. They'll have a bathroom. If you can stop a minute, I'll get cleaned up and then we can head back to town?

Yeah, I guess we're not gonna find anything out here. Frag it. I was hoping I'd have something more to bring back with us. I uh, kind of disobeyed orders to come after you, he admits. On impulse, you reach out and gently stroke the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything, but his powerful engine purrs gently.

You pull over and groan loudly as you limp into the rest stop. You spend a blissful, yet miserable twenty minutes washing various substances off of yourself. Your clothes are absolutely trashed, but a quick rinse and dry under the automatic hand-dryer has them stiff and uncomfortable but less goopy.

You drink your fill from the sink and drag yourself back outside. Only to find the parking lot empty.

Roddy-? You call, heart sinking. Had he left you?! Without a word? You'd only known him for perhaps a dozen hours, but that strikes you as incredibly unlike him. Getting distracted maybe, but abandoning you? No.

Before you can call out again, gloved hands slam themselves over your mouth and wrap around your waist, heaving you backwards into the confining grip of a tall, muscular body. As you screamed muffled cries into the hand, something sharp pricks the side of your neck, and against your will you fall into darkness.

[furryeaglebarbarian]

Mini-beasts light realm addition

chromatic shifter,cloacker drone and golden hawkray.

[malve-valve]

Funny thought: the mecha with more “feminine” frames are the ones with disproportionately large spikes. Because carrier frames are the ones that are thicker and more solid, they’re perfect for protecting any sparklets they have.

So basically imagine TFES Elita-1 railing the processor out of Optimus.

[tinydefector]

so often I keep thinking every night about a bot not moving their hips but can retract up and down their spike like that one diIdo machine so imagine their human sit on their spike,squirming and in ecstacy, while the bot lay still yet their spike moving wildly too augh

I don't know why I found this so funny.

But I'm positive there would be some sort of Spike mod they could get that works like that. All I can imagine is them being an absolute ass deciding to torment their human lover by using the speed, keeping it a nice pace but slowly it down when their lover, coming to a complete still while just smiling and teasing as their human lover as they nearly sob on their spike, begging and pleading for the cybertronian to pick up the pace and continue. The bots I can very much see being a tease are Sideswipe, Rodimus, Starscream, Swerve, Jazz, occasional Prowl when he's feeling rather moody.

Swerve shoots his little lover a large grin, "you look good like this sunshine," he teased while holding their hips in place. A whine leaves their lips as they shoot him a look. "Swerve, please!" They huff only for him to make a small noise of disapproval. "Ah ah, ask nicely Sparklet, you'll get what you want if you ask nicely"

Starscream sitting there smugly watching the way they take his spike as he sits there, his spike moving quickly as he rest his face in his palm. "Well, look at you, moaning like you were made for this this, my little blissed out toy" he coos, optics twinkling in delight as he watches each twitch and movement.

Sideswipe chuckles in amusement. "Awww, come on, I thought you could take more than that sweetspark." he slowly pulls them further down on his spike as it pistons up into his lover. His servo curled around their side, admiring the way his spike shifts and is visible through their smaller frame. "Mmm, that's it, sweetspark, so good"

Rodimus lays there with a stupid grin on his face as he watches the way they scold at him, "Rodimus I swear to God or primus or what ever holy creature you believe in if you don't start moving I'm leaving" they huff out only for him to start giggling to himself before slowly increasing the pace. "Roddy! Stop being a dick. " His optics continue watching. "Oh, come on, let me enjoy testing the new mods," he whines with a pout on his face.

Jazz is flirting the whole time. He's gentle, slow as he works his lover open on his spike, loving to watch the way they arch and lean into his touch. "Ain't you something cher, you make such pretty noises for me," he hums in delight as he leans up to steal a kiss from them. "Thatz it, babydoll squeeze me real good," he coos in delight while picking up the pace.

Prowl sits in his office with his human practical glued to his lap, one servo rested on their thigh, and his optics occasionally flick from his work to them. "I told you to behave. If you can't sit still, I stop," he grumbles. A deep whine and sob leaves his lover, their legs shake as their head is thrown back into his plating,

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[quibbs126]

Okay, I have…a design for Lux here

Honestly, it still isn’t the best. Probably on me for spending all of today trying to make a design that worked and not taking more time

Probably should have also colored those practice sketches of Megatron and Optimus, and maybe drawn more of them too, probably would have helped in the long run, as well as let me figure out their colors again since it has apparently been a long time since I drew them

But oh well, I have something, so at least now I can tell you about Lux herself

These are the other previous sketches relating to her by the way, just for posterity’s sake

I thought giving her this younger design based on the cogless bots would have been easier than working out her adult, alt mode based design, since the cogless bots don’t have alt modes. But the problem is, their frames are still based on parts of their alt mode, just not to any extent that it’s actual kibble, just alluding to it, if that makes sense. So you know, I had to have an idea of how her normal frame looks. Which I didn’t. So it was harder than I wanted it to be, and this is what I got in the end

I need to figure out a proper full design for her I think. I still have TFA and TFE Megatron for my inspirations, along with some copters, I just need to figure out how to put them all together

She very much looks like a D-16 painted blue like this, but whatevs

Her trapezoid and arm circles are supposed to be the few references to her alt mode I have, that being her front with the trapezoid, and potentially where her propellers go on her body. I don’t actually know where to put them realistically, but I think it’d be cool if she could use them like blades in combat

For now, I think I’m sticking with that blue, grey and black color scheme for her, and the yellow eyes work fine

Design’s serviceable enough for now, but needs work I think

But anyways, on to the real thing I wanted to discuss here, her lore. Or I suppose more accurately, her relationship with Megatron, since that’s most of what I have on her honestly

Okay, so first off, Megatron was the one to carry her, which I’m noticing is a running theme of mine. Now I’m not sure when exactly he would have been sparked, but let’s say for the sake of things, between getting their T-cogs and meeting the High Guard. The main thing is that this would have been just before Orion and D-16 fell out and Megatron was banished

Some weeks or so after, particularly during moments where he’s feeling incredibly distraught over everything that happened and feels incredibly isolated, Megatron started to feel something else around his spark. He couldn’t quite place what it was, it was too vague and small to be able to tell, like a very faint pulse on his spark, but something about it gave him comfort, while giving it back to the strange feeling. He wasn’t sure what this thing was, but he figured he either made it up as a coping mechanism, or it might be because the cog he had used to belong to someone else, and it was affecting him weirdly. But he didn’t really tell anyone, since he didn’t want to admit it made him feel better like some immature child, and again, he didn’t think it was anything important. He just considered it the “little light” on his spark

Only to find out much later, on complete accident, that that “light” he was feeling was in fact, a sparkling. His and Orion’s at that. No one knew he was carrying, pretty much because he had grown too big for it to make a noticeable impact on his body (and anything that did was assumed because of his enormous rapid growth spurt), and because also no one was looking for it. But one accident a bit too damaging led to him needing a full body scan for all his injuries, and a close to fully formed sparklet was revealed to be in his forge

And unfortunately because of how late anyone found it, as well as the fact that the Decepticons are very lacking in proper medical equipment, Megatron pretty much has to carry the thing to term now, much to his frustration. I needed a reason for him to not deletus that fetus. He hates the idea of this at first, hating Orion/Optimus for putting him in this situation, hating the High Guard for being ignorant enough to have not found this sooner when he could have gotten rid of it (which they kind of have to concede the point there), and hating the universe for this fate

But he does eventually start to come around more to the idea, particularly when he realizes that this sparkling was the same thing that’s been giving him comfort in these turbulent times, and when it comes to mind that this is the last thing he has of Orion, not really choosing to see Optimus as Orion, just who came back after his death. The best idea the Decepticons had for what to do with the sparkling after it was born was to just send it to Iacon, making the Prime deal with his mistake, but Megatron grew more and more hesitant of the idea

And then when the day came that the sparkling was born, he was more conflicted than ever, now that he could actually hold it in his hands and see her for himself. While he didn’t give an answer at first as to whether he wanted to get rid of her, he eventually decided that he indeed wanted to keep her, naming her Lux

It wasn’t the ideal option for the Decepticons, sending her to Iacon would have been the best choice, but during the time before the sparkling was born, they figured that since they no longer had an Energon shortage and weren’t being hunted down, it wasn’t impossible for them to care for a sparkling should that be the decision, though the lack of medical supplies would be a worry

But basically after Lux was born, plenty of the Decepticons pitched in to try and help Megatron with her, since he’s their very young leader and now single parent, and again, kind of their fault for not noticing. Also they haven’t seen a sparkling in ages and she’s cute. Thundercracker happens to be her favorite babysitter. Soundwave is another top tier babysitter, but she just likes him more

This is also what gets Megatron to finally properly start opening up and trusting the High Guard, since he knows he can’t take care of Lux all by himself, especially since he knows very little about sparklings. And if they can be proven trusted with her, maybe he can trust them with other things as well

But one other thing, Megatron does not tell Optimus that Lux exists whatsoever, and he doesn’t want him to know. Part of it is to spite Optimus, excluding him from something he too would probably find so precious. But another part that progressively grows bigger is fear; the fear that if he knew, he would take Lux away from Megatron, never to see her again

While part of it is paranoia, it’s not entirely unreasonable either. Optimus lives in a giant city while Megatron lives out in the wild, Optimus has access to everything she might need or want, Megatron and the High Guard are essentially criminals and could be considered dangerous to a young sparkling, and Optimus is the Prime and ruler of Iacon. Even if he might have the decency to consider letting Megatron keep his sparkling, someone else in Iacon might try to fight for Lux to stay in Iacon instead, possibly even taking matters into their own hands. So he won’t tell Optimus, for as long as he possibly can

Megatron does genuinely care for and love Lux, but he’s also not the best parent either. He’s a bit emotionally dependent on her, with her being that last bit of Orion, and someone who unconditionally loves him, and it does feed a bit into his fear of her being taken from him; he also doesn’t really want her to leave. It may be something he eventually learns to grow out of, as it’s really not healthy for either of them, but it could also not. But at least for now, this dependency isn’t too egregious, nor is it something Lux takes notice of, or something the other Decepticons warn Megatron about

I suppose I should actually get into Lux herself. Though to be honest, I don’t have a lot on her anyways, outside of her backstory

I do have that she’s generally a cheery little bot, and she really likes the surface, particularly the animals up there. Thundercracker is her favorite guy, outside of her carrier, and them both being blue possibly has something to do with it. She’s also probably a little too okay with violence for someone her age, due to the company she finds herself in. They may be her responsible guardians, but they’re definitely teaching her ways to kill

She also has this thing of, if she does not understand why a rule exists, she does not listen to it. It made the first few cycles with her very difficult, and a testament to Megatron that she really was Orion’s sparkling. She has a habit of sneaking out a lot, though usually it’s just to watch animals or something harmless

Though this could extend to her being prohibited from ever going to or near Iacon. She may not go now, accepting the explanation that dangerous enemies live there, but that explanation may not hold up the longer she observes it, and she may one day decide the rule’s worth breaking. But will she go to Iacon and what chaos will ensue if she does? I don’t know

I mean I imagine at some point Optimus eventually learns of Lux’s existence, I just don’t know the specific circumstances as to how yet, or when. She could sneak into Iacon as a child, it could be a Quintesson attack mixed with a Decepticon encounter that weeds her out via Megatron trying to protect her, it could be Airachnid kidnapping her, or they don’t encounter until she’s properly grown. I’m not sure yet

But yeah, I think that’s all I have on her lore for now, and honestly it’s getting pretty late, so I should probably just end things here

She needs more working, but I have a lot about Lux, so I just needed to share

[i-am-aristiana]

I wrote a glossary of TF terms.

PLEASE NOTE: These terms are a mix of canon and fanon. It changes from continuity to continuity, and from fanfic author to fanfic author. It’s only a guide, and I have no intention of saying I know more than anyone else. Please take it with a grain of salt.

A NSFW section exist, I will publish it in another post.

Miscellaneous terms

Berth: Bed

Bond: A permanent connection spark to spark from 2 or more Cybertronians. Can be between conjuxed couple, but also happens with twins/triplets/etc, or combiners.

CNA: DNA

Amica, Conjuxed Amica: Very dear friends, but not more than friends. Another James Roberts creation!

Conjux, Conjux Endura, Conjuxed: Married couple. Thanks James Roberts for that one! :)

Em field: Electronic field emitted by the Cybertronian that another can read / detect, no human equivalent

Energon: The blood of Cybertronian and what they drink as “food’.

Enforcer: Police officer

Kibble: All the parts that had to be removed for one reason or another. It grew to mean parts of alt mode visible in their other modes as well.

Pad: Tablet computer

Split-spark twins: Twins created from a single spark, and it “magically” turned into 2, similar to identical twins. Though they don’t necessarily have the same physical appearance.

Subspace: A storage area that doesn’t physically exist, yet they use it all the time. Thanks the 80’s for the art errors and pulling a weapon out of thin air for that term.

Body part, SFW

Aft: Butt

Armor: The outer part of the frame, what’s easy to see and colourful.

Audials: Ears

Chevron: Part of the helm, on the forehead, that looks like 2 colorful prongs. See Prowl for red chevron.

CPU: Brain

Dermas: Lips

Doorwings: Wings on the back of the Cybertronian made with his front vehicle doors. See Prowl.

Digit: Finger

Exvent: Exhale

Finials: Part of the helm that protrude from the helm. See Drift.

Frame: Body

Glitch: Either when a Cybertronian “crashes” or a very doratory term.

Glossa: Tongue

Helm: Head

Intake: Mouth, throat, lips. This one changes a lot depending on the author.

Nasal ridge: Nose

Optic: Eye

Oral lubricant: Spit

Ped: Foot

Plating: The outer part of the frame, what’s easy to see and colourful.

Processor: Brain

Protoform: Inner part of the “skin”, under the plating or armor.

Sensory horns: Part of the helm similar to ears in humans. See Jazz.

Servo: Hand

Spark: A ball of energy that contains the “soul” of the Cybertronian. Considered located in the chest

Strut: Bone

Type of Cybertronian:

Combiner: A team of Cybertronian that, when transforming, can combine into a giant being instead of individuals. See Devastator or Defensor.

Aerial: Type of frame for a flier that doesn’t look like a Seeker

Conehead: Frame type of fliers very similar to Starscream, except they have their nose cone on their helm, looking like they wear a giant cone

Femme: A Cybertronian having a “feminine” shape. Though some exceptions exist, see Strika

Grounder: Type of frame having wheels. Often derogatory.

Kaonite: Cybertronian from Kaon. Often associate with large, strong frame type, and mainly Decepticon

Mech: A Cybertronian, often “male” shaped but not always

Mechling: Teenager

Praxian: Cybertronians from Praxus. Often a frame type associated with the appearance of Prowl, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Barricade

Seeker: Type of fliers associated with Starscream frame type

Sparkling, sparklet: baby, children