brandwhorestarscream

[brandwhorestarscream]

this is very not original, but i was feeling a bit quirky

[brandwhorestarscream]

Ah yes. Me. My boyfriend. And his 500 dollar four foot tall bayverse op plushie

[brandwhorestarscream]

He just wants what's best for them 😭 they're safe from the horrors of Kaon but not safe in the slightest

Unprompted concubine AU ficlet? More likely than you think. Megatron reflects and agonizes over his newsparks' lot in life

...

"What have I done, Soundwave...?" His voice sounds faraway, and brittle. Soundwave has never known his amica to sound brittle. Despite the late hour, they're botha wake: Soundwave can't possibly retire for the evening until Lord Megatron does, and it doesn't look like that will be anytime soon.

The primal concubine swallows, one servo extending to brush over the tiny, frail little helm in the cradle before him. His younger son looks so much like his father, boasting his altmode and tiny, nubby finials. The sparklings had only been released from the NICU and given a clean bill of health to go home 2 days ago. They're so tiny, and so fragile. He was sure they'd be bigger, given the abuse his body had had to endure while growing them, but beneath his servos they're so achingly small. Their plating is so thin, he's afraid it will crack if he simply brushes them wrong. Their tiny systems are so quiet, the softest whirring with gentle little sighs, tiny puffs of air rhythmically assuring him that they're still online. Irrational fear gnaws at his spark as he sweeps his gaze over to his older son.

If he looks away, they'll die. He's sure of it. Their little sparks will stop pulsing, their systems will fail and they'll wither right there in their cradles. Part of him knows that's ridiculous, knows that they're healthy as can be, but... the paranoia refuses to leave no matter how hard he tries to banish it. What if they have an emergency in the middle of the night and he's not awake and aware enough to help them? What if they're too fussy for their wetnurse and refuse to suckle without their carrier present? What if one of his sparklings rolls over and compressss his chassis and causes undue stress to his ventillation system?! What if they somehow chip off a piece of their cradle and get it lodged in their throat? What if they have nightmares and think he's abandoned them? What if... what if-?!

The silver mech pinches himself, hard. Stop spiralling, he chides himself. He just... needs to watch them a bit longer. Just a few more kliks, and he'll be satisfied for tonight. Satisfied in their safety, and in their comfort.

Megatron wishes he could be content with that. He should be content with it.

He remembers, vaguely, once when he was very small... overhearing his creators late in the night. He'd been sick, riddled with fever and struggling to sleep. His sire was crying, and his carrier had sounded so angry, and so frightened. He wouldn't find out until vorns and vorns later that the same illness had taken his older sibling from them, before he was even conceived, and that night his parents had been grimly preparing themselves to say goodbye to him. More than half of all sparklings born in the south were expected to die before they could even reach the youngling phase, and those that made it to that cutoff, only a third would fight their way to adulthood. Children died from illness, injury, and starvation every klik in Kaon. They died from preventable illness. They died from treatable afflictions. But the care was simply unaffordable or flat out unavailable, so there was seldom anything to be done for them aside from a feeble prayer to Primus for mercy.

His sparklings would never have to experience that. Their lives would never be threatened by sickness. His twin sons would always have access to the very best medical care, and they'd always have a fine, talented, and trustworthy medic at their beck and call, ready to run to their sides at the sign of even a single sniffle. They'd have three square meals a day, every day, of the highest quality and prepared just for them for optimal nutrition, to ensure they grew up healthy and strong.

Primus, how he wished he could just be happy for them.

They would never want for anything. They would always have fuel to eat, and a safe, warm place to sleep. They would get a full, well rounded education, and learn everything from history and mathematics to politics and strategy. They would never be whipped, collared, or chained. They would never be branded. They would never be sold. They were not born slaves, as their mother was, they were no ones property: but they were no more free than he was.

"What have I done, Soundwave?" The whisper comes out husky, and grievous. His children would spend their entire lives within these walls, just as Damus had. They'd be assigned teachers and tutors, staff and minders, and they would be sculpted. Chiselled, molded by their environment and the people around them.

His children would never be able to freely drink their energon. It would always have to be tested for poison first. His gaze slides back to the eldest. A little warbird, sharing in his alt mode. The Senate would despise him. The nobles would despise him. How long before the first attempt on his life? His sparkling is entirely unbothered by the weight of his identity, entirely ignorant to it: swaddled tightly in his wrappings with one tiny servo peaking out, suckling the tip of one finger as he slumbered peacefully. He was a beautiful sparkling, with disproportionately large yellow optics and round, pudgy cheeks still soft with squishy polymer and protometal. He's smiling in his sleep, and it's Optimus's smile. He doesn't deserve the sordid fate awaiting him. Neither of them do.

His thoughts swirl further and further, deeper and darker toward something worrying, and Soundwave finally steps forward to touch his shoulder. "Lord Me-"

"I've birthed them into another cage, Soundwave," he sounds so hollow touching his younger son's face. "They'll have no freedom here. None. I swore, I wouldn't-"

Soundwave remembers it well. His amica so vehemently hated their shackles. They all did, but he was the loudest and most defiant about it. He'd sworn to never kindle sparklings of his own, not so long as they'd be born into a collar that matched his. Now... his sparklings are here and he loves them more than anything. And how did he express that love? By birthing them into a gilded cage they could never escape from. Their wings clipped from the moment they came into the world, cleaned and swaddled and tucked neatly into their golden cage. There, they'd remain forever, huddled together behind the bars and forever forced to watch everything outside pass them by. They'd never know what was taken from them, so they'd never miss it. The bars of their cage might even be invisible to their little eyes.

But to Megatron, the bars will always be there, a sick reminder of his failure, and he doubts he'll ever stop seeing their strangling grip wrapped around his sparklings.

...

Press f for Megs and the bitties 😔 they've traded one prison for another, and though his little ones have escaped the dangers of Kaon's slums, they've only inherited several new dangers to replace them. Dangers that... he's unsure that he can protect them from.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Leave me a comment maybe? 👉👈

[brandwhorestarscream]

Unprompted concubine AU ficlet? More likely than you think. Megatron reflects and agonizes over his newsparks' lot in life

...

"What have I done, Soundwave...?" His voice sounds faraway, and brittle. Soundwave has never known his amica to sound brittle. Despite the late hour, they're botha wake: Soundwave can't possibly retire for the evening until Lord Megatron does, and it doesn't look like that will be anytime soon.

The primal concubine swallows, one servo extending to brush over the tiny, frail little helm in the cradle before him. His younger son looks so much like his father, boasting his altmode and tiny, nubby finials. The sparklings had only been released from the NICU and given a clean bill of health to go home 2 days ago. They're so tiny, and so fragile. He was sure they'd be bigger, given the abuse his body had had to endure while growing them, but beneath his servos they're so achingly small. Their plating is so thin, he's afraid it will crack if he simply brushes them wrong. Their tiny systems are so quiet, the softest whirring with gentle little sighs, tiny puffs of air rhythmically assuring him that they're still online. Irrational fear gnaws at his spark as he sweeps his gaze over to his older son.

If he looks away, they'll die. He's sure of it. Their little sparks will stop pulsing, their systems will fail and they'll wither right there in their cradles. Part of him knows that's ridiculous, knows that they're healthy as can be, but... the paranoia refuses to leave no matter how hard he tries to banish it. What if they have an emergency in the middle of the night and he's not awake and aware enough to help them? What if they're too fussy for their wetnurse and refuse to suckle without their carrier present? What if one of his sparklings rolls over and compressss his chassis and causes undue stress to his ventillation system?! What if they somehow chip off a piece of their cradle and get it lodged in their throat? What if they have nightmares and think he's abandoned them? What if... what if-?!

The silver mech pinches himself, hard. Stop spiralling, he chides himself. He just... needs to watch them a bit longer. Just a few more kliks, and he'll be satisfied for tonight. Satisfied in their safety, and in their comfort.

Megatron wishes he could be content with that. He should be content with it.

He remembers, vaguely, once when he was very small... overhearing his creators late in the night. He'd been sick, riddled with fever and struggling to sleep. His sire was crying, and his carrier had sounded so angry, and so frightened. He wouldn't find out until vorns and vorns later that the same illness had taken his older sibling from them, before he was even conceived, and that night his parents had been grimly preparing themselves to say goodbye to him. More than half of all sparklings born in the south were expected to die before they could even reach the youngling phase, and those that made it to that cutoff, only a third would fight their way to adulthood. Children died from illness, injury, and starvation every klik in Kaon. They died from preventable illness. They died from treatable afflictions. But the care was simply unaffordable or flat out unavailable, so there was seldom anything to be done for them aside from a feeble prayer to Primus for mercy.

His sparklings would never have to experience that. Their lives would never be threatened by sickness. His twin sons would always have access to the very best medical care, and they'd always have a fine, talented, and trustworthy medic at their beck and call, ready to run to their sides at the sign of even a single sniffle. They'd have three square meals a day, every day, of the highest quality and prepared just for them for optimal nutrition, to ensure they grew up healthy and strong.

Primus, how he wished he could just be happy for them.

They would never want for anything. They would always have fuel to eat, and a safe, warm place to sleep. They would get a full, well rounded education, and learn everything from history and mathematics to politics and strategy. They would never be whipped, collared, or chained. They would never be branded. They would never be sold. They were not born slaves, as their mother was, they were no ones property: but they were no more free than he was.

"What have I done, Soundwave?" The whisper comes out husky, and grievous. His children would spend their entire lives within these walls, just as Damus had. They'd be assigned teachers and tutors, staff and minders, and they would be sculpted. Chiselled, molded by their environment and the people around them.

His children would never be able to freely drink their energon. It would always have to be tested for poison first. His gaze slides back to the eldest. A little warbird, sharing in his alt mode. The Senate would despise him. The nobles would despise him. How long before the first attempt on his life? His sparkling is entirely unbothered by the weight of his identity, entirely ignorant to it: swaddled tightly in his wrappings with one tiny servo peaking out, suckling the tip of one finger as he slumbered peacefully. He was a beautiful sparkling, with disproportionately large yellow optics and round, pudgy cheeks still soft with squishy polymer and protometal. He's smiling in his sleep, and it's Optimus's smile. He doesn't deserve the sordid fate awaiting him. Neither of them do.

His thoughts swirl further and further, deeper and darker toward something worrying, and Soundwave finally steps forward to touch his shoulder. "Lord Me-"

"I've birthed them into another cage, Soundwave," he sounds so hollow touching his younger son's face. "They'll have no freedom here. None. I swore, I wouldn't-"

Soundwave remembers it well. His amica so vehemently hated their shackles. They all did, but he was the loudest and most defiant about it. He'd sworn to never kindle sparklings of his own, not so long as they'd be born into a collar that matched his. Now... his sparklings are here and he loves them more than anything. And how did he express that love? By birthing them into a gilded cage they could never escape from. Their wings clipped from the moment they came into the world, cleaned and swaddled and tucked neatly into their golden cage. There, they'd remain forever, huddled together behind the bars and forever forced to watch everything outside pass them by. They'd never know what was taken from them, so they'd never miss it. The bars of their cage might even be invisible to their little eyes.

But to Megatron, the bars will always be there, a sick reminder of his failure, and he doubts he'll ever stop seeing their strangling grip wrapped around his sparklings.

...

Press f for Megs and the bitties 😔 they've traded one prison for another, and though his little ones have escaped the dangers of Kaon's slums, they've only inherited several new dangers to replace them. Dangers that... he's unsure that he can protect them from.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Leave me a comment maybe? 👉👈

[brandwhorestarscream]

Remember when I encouraged you to do a rewrite for Revenge of the Fallen? Well, here's my version:

At the beginning of time, Primus created the 13 primes to battle his evil brother Unicron. But during the battle, Unicron tries to grab Prima, and almost grabs him until Megatronus Prime pushes Prima out of the way just in time, only to be snatched up in the god's hand, and Unicron raises the prime up to his mouth and swallows in one gulp. While in Unicron's mouth, Megatronus thinks he's a goner, but with the requiem blaster in hand, he manages to shoot his way out through Unicron's belly, and then once out, he takes another shot at the god's spark, rendering him uncouncious and sending in him into the far reaches of space, ending the battle.

With Unicron finally vanquished, the primes celebrate their victory, and Megatronus is hailed as a hero, but as the old saying goes, "there is no victory without sacrifice," their victory came at a great cost. While Megatronus was inside Unicron, he became exposed to the god's darkness, which began to plague his mind endlessly, making him increasingly unstable and always at war with himself, constantly trying to fight the evil. And although he does his best to resist, it only grows worse and worse as time goes on until one day, the darkness briefly takes over, and causes Megatronus to kill his lover, Solus Prime, accidentally. (Kind of like this scene https://youtu.be/l6OKFrdDg-A?si=iMpW1S6rUgn1Va6- ) Ashamed of what he'd done, he exiles himself into the far reaches of space.

After traveling as a loner for several years, he eventually comes upon a planet known as Earth, and once he arrives on the planet to see what it's like, he finds himself disgusted by the native humans, regarding them as incests, and once he sees just how violent they are, he sees them as completely evil and unworthy of life. But then, he eventually comes to a far more shocking revelation............that Unicron is at the Earth's core.

Blaming Unicron for causing him to slay Solus, Megatronus is determined to destroy the god once and for all out of revenge and uses Solus's forge (did I mention he took her forge with him as a keepsake to hold onto?) to create a great machine, one that he names a star harvester. But he needs the Matrix of Leadership in order to activate it, so he contacts the other primes to come to Earth. After reuniting with his brothers, he informs them of all he's learned and tells them about his plan to use the machine to destroy the sun and cause Unicron's destruction once and for all. The others are, of course, against this, as it would destroy all life on Earth, but Megatronus sees them as the spawn of Unicron and merely collateral damage. The primes refuse to take part and resolve to stop him, which results in a huge battle, ending with multiple of them dead, and Megatronus imprisoned in a sarcophagus. After being imprisoned, Megatronus's name is stricken from the history books, and he is renamed "The Fallen."

Many generations pass, and the tales of the primes have passed into legend, regarded as mere myths. On Modern-day Cybertron, while digging for Energon, some miners stumble across the ancient sarcophagus, and a grey mech named D-16 takes the ancient relic back to his quarters. When alone with the relic, he touches it and hears a voice coming from the relic, speaking to him:

The Fallen: "D-16..........D-16."

D-16: "W-wh-who said that? Who are you?"

The Fallen: "We have much to discuss........my disciple."

What do ya think?

Now THIS! This I can get behind!! I love everything about this, this is so much fun! Megatronus's mind hss completely unravelled in his inescapable prison, millions and millions of years in silent, all encompsssing darkness with his uncle's influence slowly eating him up til there's nothing left. A puppet or parasitism, when D-16 manages to pry it open, violet optics and a ghoulish, half-decayed visage awaits him. The Fallen is stiff, rust and microscopic substances building up over time. He lay there in his coffin, unable to move, arms crossed over his chassis with servos clutching opposite shoulders. They're by now practically melded into his chassis. When D-16 frees him, he sits up slowly, audibly creaking. With a heave of effort, he rips his arms free, leaving two long lesions criss-crossed in an ugly x across his chassis. Shards and dust rain off of him as he rises, temperature dropping and air pressure increasing

D-16 doesn't stand a chance. Megatronus Prime smiles a fanged, too-wide smile and reaches out to him, laying one servo on his helm: and that's all he needs to infect the other with his influence. His claws flex and puncture the little miner's mesh with ease, sinking in and pumping infected dark energon directly into him.

"Heed my words, little disciple..." he purrs. "The Planet of Chaos will fall at my hands. Kneel, and assist me."

Unicron's influence has left him twisted and warped, and though Megatronus is still hellbent on destroying the earth, with his uncle controlling him... it's not simply to wipe out chaotic, blasphemous life. Destroying the planet will allow the Harbinger of Chaos to wake and break free of his shell, and continue to inflict his reign of terror across the universe >:3

[brandwhorestarscream]

We should bring back capes tbh. Starscream would rock the hell out of this ensemble in a different color

Masculine cape made of green silk velvet with golden embroidery. Years 1651-1675.

Source: Museu Virtual de la Moda de Catalunya [Fashion Virtual Museum of Catalonia]. Kept in Museu del Disseny [Design Museum] in Barcelona, Catalonia.

[brandwhorestarscream]

I’m sorry, but not giving Starscream heels is practically a crime. :V

[brandwhorestarscream]

As an aroace person that's obsessed with extravagant parties and bridal gowns, I'm just gonna marry myself smh. Throw a huge party and dedicate myself to making the rest of my life as enjoyable and prosperous as possible

[brandwhorestarscream]

Tarn's little angy balloon:

Technically a paradox pokemon,,, don't ask me how Tarn got a pokemon from a few thousands years in the past 😅 it fits too perfectly not to use!

If TF and Pokémon ever have a crossover I hope Tarn’s main is a jigglypuff

May I suggest that that jigglypuff has so much time and skill poured into it too though?

[brandwhorestarscream]

Counterpoint: Tarn has a Scream Tail/Bigglyruff. An angry aggressive ancient jigglypuff cousin that sings beautifully and bellows ungodly warcries 🤭 Tarn's is rather prone to biting and puffs up like a balloon when it gets angry to assert dominance. Tarn is helm over pedes for this bizarre little creature

If TF and Pokémon ever have a crossover I hope Tarn’s main is a jigglypuff

May I suggest that that jigglypuff has so much time and skill poured into it too though?

[brandwhorestarscream]

Was talking with a friend and, serious question for neurotypical people: how do you guys enjoy things? Like, in what manner do you experience enjoyment of things? Your brains don't latch onto things and love them so deeply you absorb every single detail into your soul. Do you guys just get like... passive, mild enjoyment out of things?

Cuz I'll be so real, that sounds miserable. My brain either blasts me with Pure Love Juice or I feel absolutely nothing for something. If you don't hyperfixate and attach to things and love them so much they're literally on your mind 24/7 365... what do you guys DO. What do you think about. What do you do in your spare time. When you like a thing you just... enjoy it a little bit? A tame amount? Then walk away from it after a little bit cuz you're satisfied and don't care about it anymore? Like I do not understand. Someone explain the experience to me in explicit detail because I seriously do not Get It. The idea of not having hyperfixations is so alien to me

[brandwhorestarscream]

thought i posted this well…

[brandwhorestarscream]

TF1 x Skybound AU?

[brandwhorestarscream]

Oh hey that's me!!!!!

Friends, seriously. If you’re ever in need of a talented artist then this is the one right here. Look at this! This is museum-level quality!! I can't possibly praise it enough 🥰

Commission for the lovely @brandwhorestarscream 🪽

[brandwhorestarscream]

now say it with me: authors/artists dont owe you moral purity. an author/artist job is not to hold you by the hand & tell you exactly what is Good™ & what is Bad™. you should be able to think for yourself

[brandwhorestarscream]

Reblogging this cuz I was suddenly reminded of it's existence lmao. More milfatron on your dash!!

No war AU. Sexual content has been banned from Cybertron for several generations. Porn is illegal and has been completely purged from society. Naughty words are banned. Touching anyone outside of family members is a crime. Everyone is outfitted with a monitoring chip on the day of their creation, to track their behavior 24/7. The secrets of reproduction are a highly classified government secret, all types of "dangerously explicit" knowledge purged from public databases, from people's minds, in pursuit of a healthier, more functional society, as well as a means of population control.

The average mecha are completely clueless about their bodies, about sexual attraction, about reproduction, about everything. Average bots can't even pop their panels; they're permanently stuck closed and need a medigrade override to access.

No one knows how newsparks are made or where they come from. It's one of Cybertron's most closely guarded mysteries 🤭 there are luxurious Maternity Wards, heavily guarded fortresses that are basically medical resorts. And inside are the carriers. Every mech and femme of age is placed into a lottery and, if drawn, are awarded the high honor of being moved to a Maternity Ward and becoming a carrier. Every bot dreams of having their name drawn--to nurture a sparkling is a huge honor and Maternity Ward stays are free, plus every carrier recieves a government stipend to care for themselves and the little one. It's a way to permanently lock down a safe, comfortable life for yourself.

Now, picture this 👀 Megatron gets his name drawn. Yeah, that's right, this is a Milfatron AU, SURPRISE! He's shocked because, well, he's just a miner (maybe at this point a gladiator, idk, it's not important), but the lottery doesn't lie and he legally can't refuse. He's swept off to Iacon, home of the largest Ward. He's given an ID badge and rushed to orientation with the others in his group, where some of the rules, regulations, and what-to-expectations are explained. All the luxuries they have access to, how housing works, and of course, babymaking. They're all shocked to learn that they already have half the means to create a sparkling inside of them. But they need another bot to help build the other half. Each perspective carrier has had several potential donors selected for them, ans they'll be given a couple decaycles (20 days) to get to know them. After which they'll of course be expected to choose which one they want to help create their sparkling

After orientation, they're split into tour groups and shown around the facility. It has every amenity available, open all day every day for the carriers' relaxation and enjoyment. After all, a happy, stress-free, well-exercised carrier makes for a healthy bitlet. They spare no expense when it comes to creating the next generation.

I'm gonna cut it here for now cuz this is getting long, but 🤭 there's all sorts kf shenanigans to be had, both life in the Ward and outside in this hyper-censored world. No one has any experience with sexual activity so, inevitably, when someone gets their awakening they might go a little crazy. I've got a lot of silly thoughts for this one, so I hope ya'll enjoy it XD

[brandwhorestarscream]

Lost Light Cat Shelter #1: pages 3-4

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