#;; djd sunstreaker au

[minorisato]

no repose, kick me when i'm down

transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 520 / warnings: NSFT, ball kicking, degradation / notes: written for kinktober day 28, "dehumanization." / consider commissioning me!

"Stay still," Sunstreaker commands, "stools don't move around this much."

Tarn lets out a low whine, spinal strut shaking as Sunstreaker digs his heels into it. Tarn had made the honestly rather simple mistake of telling Sunstreaker he wanted to be useful (in a sexual way,) and Sunstreaker had smiled, saying he had a great idea. Now, as Sunstreaker reclined in Tarn's fucking chair, pedes kicked up on the leader's back, Tarn essentially acting as an ottoman, Tarn was almost regretting it.

Only almost. "Sorry," he apologizes, arm struts straining to hold him up. The humiliation burns, but he's being useful, and those two things work in tandem to just raise his charge.

Sunstreaker huffs. "They don't talk, either." He pauses. "They also don't have spikes, but I'll let you get away with that." And then he moves a pede to nudge Tarn's pressurized spike, leaking a steady stream of prefluid onto the tiling of the ship's floor. Tarn lets out a whine, feeling his spike twitch. "If you're really good, I might even let you overload."

Tarn exvents heavily, letting out a small whine. Though, doesn't it sound a little muffled? Like he's biting his lip plating?

"Tarn, lift your helm," Sunstreaker instructs, leaning forward to grab the larger mech by his chin, tilting Tarn's helm up and carefully placing a servo over Tarn's mask.

"Sunstreaker," Tarn begs, "Sunstreaker, please."

"Hush," Sunstreaker spits, carefully unlatching Tarn's mask from his faceplates, disengaging the magnets normally keeping it in place. "I wanna see your faceplates."

Tarn keeps his helm held up, tilted to look at the gold mech as his mask is lifted away. He is biting his lip plating, clearly attempting to muffle himself and stay quiet, to be good, to be functional furniture, but whines keep slipping through. Coolant wells in his optics, dripping out mere drops at a time, like the lubricant from his spike. His optics stare up at Sunstreaker, sparking with charge. He's pathetic, like this.

Sunstreaker clicks his glossa. "Stop biting yourself," he commands, and Tarn follows the instruction immediately, panting. "You should be able to control yourself without trying so hard." His optics glance over Tarn for a moment. "Go on, apologize."

"I'm sorry," Tarn lets out, just barely audible.

Then, suddenly, Sunstreaker moves a pede to kick Tarn's spike, hard, and Tarn screams, caught off guard and already so sensitive, his helm snapping back down and arm struts giving out, dropping him to the ground, out of Sunstreaker's grasp. He curls in on himself a bit, venting hard, as above him Sunstreaker sighs, exasperated. The pede still on Tarn's spinal strut lifts up momentarily before slamming down again, and all of the air in Tarn's respirators leaves him in one large wheeze.

"Awful," Sunstreaker sighs. "Awful. Some fucking leader," he smirks. "You can't even be furniture right."

"I'm sorry," Tarn gasps, "I'm sorry- I can, I can do it, I can be g-good. I can try again."

Sunstreaker huffs in what is almost a chuckle. "We will try again," he states. "We'll keep trying again and again until you can do it right."

[citrus-art-and-lifes-posts]

The Draw Queue

a list of things i intend to draw (not necessarily in order) jic any a yall were curious about the stuff thats living rent free in my mind these days lmao

security breach au character line up

security breach au glamrock op vs glamrock mega

security breach au kids (namely sari, sam, jack, michaela, miko, miles, raf and charlie)

Idw shockblurr

graphics for an rpg transformers game (mostly bgs but also some scene mock-ups)

astrotrain

swindle

(write) shockblurr post-war fic

fashionformers (mostly the elite trine but also some lost light mechs)

faeformers (mostly bgs but also some lost light mechs)

the tfa bots all wearing saris with sari

bayverse optimus

a mock-up of my dream home, with shockwave living in it, of course

more psychedelic transformers art - maybe with unicron/galvatron/cyclonus/the sweeps

getaway

city-speaker au, mostly with lost light mechs

the djd in a totally radical (tm) skating rink

overlord

sixshot

Form Before Function character line ups

Form Before Function ideas and plot points

Cybertronian Community headcanons (but as drawings!!!)

Swerve/blue bots

cyberverse Perceptor/dead end

beeverse ratchet/drift

oplita <3

yes man (fnv)

g1 trine of cyclonus, whirl and tailgate

g1 trine of cyclonus, galvatron and stratagem

Sunder (religiously flavored)

SHIT TON OF REDRAWS (including but not limited to: shockwave in flowers, jackass!nautica, cyberverse whirl, mirage, primus!rung, etc)

megastar memes (check drafts)

Transformers Fashion Fanzine

MiniMegaRung

tfp soundwave collecting cassettes (minigame???)

crocknock vs a tuba

Til Someone Gets Hurt animation/animatic

Jazz sitting in people’s laps <3

Cerebros/prowl (check drafts)

transformers!among us (part 2)

magnet art with sunny/sideswipe

normal mechs dressing up their sparkling vs perceptor dressing up his sparkling

skystar fanzine

medic skywarp

FUCK TON of adopts based on color palettes

self-care transformers stickers

redraw shockwave ace header for pride month <3

All special ops mechs with full visor/facemasks

G1 scene redraws

bayverse ratchet/ironhide

fanart for several fanfics (fanfictuary???)

tfp cliffjumper

bayverse human!sunstreaker

cooking/baking/gardening/cleaning transformers stickers

pharma/tarn

(write) black sands chapter

(write) bayverse symbiosis/mecha au

egirl tfp soundwave

tfa longarm character sheet <3

getaway

primal/dinobot

redraw all the OLD icons

taraprowl

Tfp prowl/soundwave/swerve

Prowl, bloodynosed, hovering over a bathrom sink, staring at his reflextion in the mirror, thoroughly pissed off

tfp megatron, starscream, soundwave and shockwave facing off against tfp optimus, prowl, jazz and ratchet for beach day shenanigans

Cyclonus/octane

Transformers as chao / transformers in their respective chap gardens withtheir chao <3

bumblebee/blades

Late 90s scene!punk blueberry rodimus

double sided charm with red roddy in front of a cherry slushie and blue roddy in front of a blue raspberry slushie on the other side

skyfire zine

swerve zine

tfa game nostalgia zine

fashionmech (maga)zine

tarnma animatic

tfa optimus animatic

tfa blurr v shockwave animatic

song-based animatics (prowl, jazz, rodimus, drift, ratchet, pharma, tarantulas, chromedome, optimus, starscream, swerve, shockwave)

make a shockwave plushie

transformers as chao/transformers raising chao

finish transformers-themed acnh island

mecha-carebear adopts

acnh jacket of whirl, with sparkling whirl in his cockpit <3

tfs as space rovers

That one vocaloid pic, magnet, maybe with jazz and prowl or maybe hot rod and deadlock

Swinjack

Bumbleblades

Bunch of mechs who Shouldnt be in the rescuebots universe, but now Are (overlord, sunder, prowl, pharma, etc)

Megatron/nautica

texaid

Jedi "knights"

Earthspark megop

Waspinator cassette au

prowl/oilslick

Moonracer punk redesign

Tfa letfire & jetstorm with decepticon frames

Soundwave & cassette!entrapta

Femm-cassetticon!combaticons with onslaught as their host <3

[artsy-hobbitses]

Do you have like a list of most of the characters in your Au who have yet to be posted? Like Perceptor mentioned Brainstorm, Blaster has been mentioned, the other Dinobots have as well. But will like, Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe or Sunstreaker, Mirage, The DJD, any G1 Conbiners, Hotrod/Rodimus, Drift, or Ultra Magnus be in this Au? I love it so much already and I love how diverse he characters origins are, keep up the great work💛🥺!

I’ma be super frank, the full list is still a WIP at this stage! This is mainly due to me taking Ties That Bind out of the IDW 2005 timeline I originally made it for and making it its own Fan Continuity, which means there are a LOT of changes happening to it plot wise which will be using some IDW elements mixed with original narratives and because the plot is currently evolving, the cast is being affected by it.

Out of the names you listed specifically though, Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Mirage, the DJD, HotRod (For plot reasons specifically that The Matrix is not passed down from Prime to Prime—‘Prime’ here is an honorific given to the highest level of heroism—-and is a singular powerful artifact lost to time, he stays HotRod, so no Rodimus), Drift and Ultra Magnus will all be in this continuity. On the Combiners’ side, Bruticus and Defensor are confirmed.

[minorisato]

he bruises, coughs, he sputters pistol shots- hold him down

transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 1993 / warnings: uhh / notes: takes place before all my other djdstreaker fics. / consider commissioning me!

Sunstreaker bolts upright out of his recharge, ventilation system working overtime as he exvents, invents, exvents, invents. His hand is on his blaster before he’s entirely aware of what’s going on– it’s dark, and he’s alone, and there’s– there’s a raid? Did he dream that? He was dreaming. He’s slowly coming back to himself. He was dreaming. He isn’t exactly any happier about where he really is, though.

Peaceful Tyranny. He’s a ‘con now. A ‘con? Is that even accurate? He’s not an Autobot anymore by any means, and the darkness and quiet of the ship isn’t any help. He feels out of place. He’s not welcome in the Autobots anymore, and despite what he’s told, he knows he really isn’t welcome here, either. He curls in on himself, holding the blaster to his chassis protectively, just in case, because who knows, maybe there actually is an attack and he wasn’t dreaming and maybe he’ll be useful and prove he can do something right, prove he has a right to be here and he’s useful and he belongs here, belongs somewhere.

But no. The ship is quiet as it always is, on it’s way to another far-off planet off in the reaches of somewhere or other, looking for a (former) ‘con who deserves everything they’re about to get (or that’s what Kaon says, anyway.) Sunstreaker checks his chronometer– still adjusted to Earth time. It’s been stuck on Earth time ever since– ever since. It’s a stupid thing, dumb little reminder, blinking in the corner of his HUD. Ratchet said it’d be a quick fix. Rung said it’d be good, so he didn’t need to keep getting reminded of it. (Sometimes he thinks about how fulfilling it’d be to put the fucking nobody out of his misery, before realizing it really wouldn’t feel fulfilling at all.) It’s early morning on Earth, about 4, and he’s been on the ship for a few days now, so he has a feeling that Tarn is probably already awake and doing whatever. Tarn is always first to rise and last to sleep, while Helex is always last to rise and first to sleep. Simple patterns that he picks up on, just after a few days. Acclimation.

Sunstreaker rises from his berth, his berth which is uncomfortable and lonely and cold, setting his blaster down and making his way in the direction of the common area– the first day, he’d had to get Vos to lead him there, which was mortifying, because it really seemed like Vos was angry with him about it and Sunstreaker couldn’t even understand what he was saying. Now, though, he’s kind of getting used to picking up on Vos’ tone and getting the general gist of what the rifle is saying. Acclimation.

As expected, the common area is still rather dark, with only low lighting illuminating the surroundings of the large mech in the middle. Why the fuck does he get up this early. His biolights provide little extra lighting, moreso just acting as a beacon telling Sunstreaker where he is.

Sunstreaker is only a third of the way down the stairs before Tarn notices him. “You aren’t normally up at this joor,” he says, turning to face the gold mech.

Shrugging, Sunstreaker makes his way down. “I wanted a change of pace.”

“Of course,” Tarn replies, turning back to what he was doing. It looks like he’s reading something. “I won’t mind your shaking.”

Sunstreaker bristles. He is not shaking. “I am not shaking.”

“Of course,” the purple mech repeats, sighing an exvent. After another moment, Sunstreaker is behind where he’s sitting, and is able to look over to see he is in fact reading off of a datapad– though it doesn’t look like a story, or a poem, it looks more like… an article? “You’ve gotten quite popular, lately.”

Sunstreaker’s optics widen, and he reaches over to snatch the datapad from out of Tarn’s grasp. The Decepticon puts up no resistance to the action. Sunstreaker’s optics skim over the article, and he lets out a noise of frustration. It is suspected that an Autobot has begun working with the Decepticon Justice Division, as the mech witnessed on CRUX-12 seems to resemble Autobot Sunstreaker. After being MIA for a period of time, Sunstreaker was last legally marked as a resident of the Lost Light under Captain Rodimus Prime. Residents mention that he has not been seen for several months, however, and there is no way to deny that the mech pictured is not him. Known friend of Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, was asked about his whereabouts, and refused to comment.

Known friend. That’s his fucking brother. “Who saw?” Sunstreaker asks, dentae grit, words coming out as hisses. The picture at the top of the article– which seems, now, less like an article and more like a notice, something to be concerned about– is shitty and poor quality, yeah, but it’s him. Anyone who knew him would be able to tell, even if it’s taken from far away, even if it’s blurry, they would know.

Oh, Primus, they would know.

“Unsure at the moment,” Tarn responded, sounding all-too calm, “Kaon had informed us that the reason the traitor had chosen CRUX-12 was because it was entirely deserted. The traitor should have been the only living mech on the planet. Whoever saw either had an energy signature cloak, or Kaon was lying to us.”

“Can I please believe that Kaon was lying to us,” Sunstreaker asks.

“No,” Tarn responds. “Kaon would not purposefully lie to us. He was the second member selected for the job. He’s been loyal as long as I have. He would not lie to us.” It almost sounds like Tarn is trying to convince himself of that more than he’s trying to convince Sunstreaker of that, but the yellow mech chooses to drop it. “I’ll have a word with him either way. Our systems should be upgraded enough that we can detect cloaked energy signatures.”

This is exactly what Sunstreaker needs right now. No, seriously, this is so great. He’s having a great time. He is definitely not on the verge of a panic attack. He feels himself falling to the floor behind the chair Tarn has placed himself in. He brings his servos up to cradle his faceplates without even realizing he’s doing it. “Oh, Primus,” he lets out.

“I’m not sure why you’re so concerned,” Tarn admits, rising from his seat and approaching Sunstreaker, looking down at him.

“They’re gonna know now,” Sunstreaker barely lets out. “They’re gonna know it was me. They’re gonna know that this is what I’ve been doing. I’m never gonna be able to go back.”

He can very suddenly feel Tarn glaring at him, scrutinizing him. “I’m sorry, did you want to go back?”

Sunstreaker grinds his dentae together, servos picking at the paint behind his finials. “No, but–”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” Tarn tells him, practically spitting the words out. “I don’t know why you would want to go back to the Autobots now. They have never respected you. They left you to die. They never gave you the help you need. They can’t do anything for you.” Tarn’s fists ball at his sides. “All they’ve done is leave you for dead and you want to go back?”

“You have no fucking idea,” Sunstreaker spits, and he is definitely getting a bit ahead of himself but in this very moment he can’t even be bothered to care. “You have no fucking idea. You don’t know what it’s like to be tossed aside like that. You have no fucking idea what it’s like to want a home and have none to go back to. You have no idea what it’s like to be hated by people you don’t even know.”

“First of all,” Tarn starts, “Yes I do. Do you even know who you’re talking to? I lead the DJD, Sunstreaker. Do you think I’m blind and deaf? Do you think I don’t know what this is doing to me? Do you think I am unaware of the reputation we have gained?” He pauses. “I don’t care that people hate me, Sunstreaker. They aren’t the mechs that matter. They’re all idiots and fools anyway– they–” He’s stumbling. Tarn is actually stumbling over his speech, and this never happens, and Sunstreaker really suddenly feels like he has very badly fucked up. “They never helped me, and now they have the gall to hate me. They don’t even matter. I care about what I do and I’m not going to stop because people don’t like it.”

Sunstreaker is silent, helm buried in his knees. He could pick all the paint off his frame and still not feel any better about what’s happening.

“And secondly,” Tarn continues, “Yes, I do know. I do know what it’s like to be forgotten and tossed aside. Because before I joined the Decepticons, I was.”

Sunstreaker, just barely, angles his helm to look up at the other.

“I was an empurata, Sunstreaker,” Tarn tells him, and suddenly his voice is so much softer, so much shakier. “I was a freak. I could short out technology just by touching it. No one wanted me. Even before that, no one wanted me. No one wanted Damus.” He pauses, takes a breath. “And now Damus is dead, and people really don’t like Tarn either. That’s very tragic for them, though, because Damus isn’t coming back and Tarn likes his job. Tarn doesn’t feel bad about how things have turned out. I don’t.”

“Talking in third person makes you sound very mentally and emotionally stable,” Sunstreaker lets out, hoping the sarcasm is able to break through his exhaustion.

“My point is,” Tarn hisses, “the Autobots don’t want you back. They never gave you anything. You can want it all you want, but they aren’t there for you anymore.”

“And you are?” Sunstreaker asks, and he isn’t even sure if he sounds angry, or confused, or what. He doesn’t know how he’s feeling. He’s a little far away. Resigned, maybe that’s the right word. Resigned to his fate. “You’re just going to kill me anyway.”

Tarn gets down on a knee to be more level with the yellow mech. “Is that why you joined us, Sunstreaker? Did you hope that we would kill you?”

His voice is gentle, and something about the way he asks– something, something about it really gets Sunstreaker. He can feel coolant welling in his optics, because that wasn’t true, he didn’t think it was true, he didn’t, but now Tarn has said it and it’s out there and it feels like Tarn has maybe put more thought into who Sunstreaker is than even Sunstreaker has. The yellow mech finds himself nodding, coolant dripping from his optics down his faceplates. He’s crying. “Yeah,” he barely lets out, vocals strained, “yeah. I wanted to die.”

Tarn gets a bit closer, placing a clawed servo on Sunstreaker’s shoulder pauldron, and his touch is so strangely gentle, so untrustworthy yet so kind. “That’s very unfortunate,” Tarn tells him, vocals low and soft, “because that is not our intent at all.” Sunstreaker sniffles, more tears falling out as Tarn speaks to him. “You’re one of us now. Part of our team. You pledged your loyalty to us, you have killed for us. You’re staying.”

Almost without realizing it, Sunstreaker acts, throwing himself into Tarn’s grasp. He’s sobbing, sobbing into the Decepticon, sobbing into the plating of the leader of the Decepticon Justice Division, and Tarn lets him. Tarn wraps his arms around the yellow mech and lets him cry. His plating shakes and rattles as he’s overcome, and Tarn trails a clawed servo up and down his spinal strut, an attempt to comfort him.

No one else is awake. Just the two of them sit on the common area floor, sharing this moment. If Sunstreaker really tries, really leans into it, it almost feels like home.

[minorisato]

i wanna feel like i can finally find a way to be free

transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 864 / warnings: NA / notes: written a while ago at the request of a friend, i just never posted it. i'm back on my tarnstreaker bullshit. / consider commissioning me!

The Peaceful Tyranny is not a small ship. Don’t get Sunstreaker wrong– it’s not the biggest ship he’s ever been on, certainly smaller than the ARK, but it’s still not small. In his opinion, it’s a bit overly large for the amount of crew on it– not counting him, 6 people and 2 pets, and sometimes Nickel isn’t even around.

So he isn’t sure how he keeps getting fucking lost.

It’s not ridiculously large! He was able to navigate the ARK distinctly easier than this. It shouldn’t be so hard to find his way around. But alas, Kaon says please give these datapads to Tesarus and suddenly Sunstreaker looks like an idiot trouncing around the halls looking for a room he’s probably been to a hundred times, and just can’t remember the exact location of. At this point, it’s getting frustrating– maybe if the halls didn’t all look the same, or maybe if there were more labels on the doors, or maybe if Kaon said something other than “to Tesarus” and gave him actual direction–

“Sunstreaker?” A voice calls, and Sunstreaker snaps out of his internal ranting, turning to face the source. “Are you alright?” Tarn. Tarn is steadily approaching him, and despite the mask covering the majority of his face, what Sunstreaker can see of his optics and hear of his voice conveys a concerned feeling.

Sunstreaker sighs, shoulders slumping, almost dropping the datapads down onto the grating beneath him. “I’m fine,” he tells his– boss? Boyfriend? Both?– not attempting to conceal his exhaustion. “I’m just…”

“You’re lost,” Tarn infers, and Sunstreaker’s optic glitches a bit, agitated at how quickly he was able to guess.

“Yes, I am,” Sunstreaker confesses. “Kaon just asked me to give these datapads to Tesarus, but I don’t know where the fuck Tesarus is.”

Tarn taps the bottom of his mask, as though in thought. “Tesarus isn’t very sociable, so he’s likely off by himself,” he explains. “Recently, he’s been spending time in the data storage, if I recall correctly.”

Sunstreaker nods. Right, data storage. He’s been there, and if he remembers right, then Tesarus actually was there the last time he’d been to that room. Of course, that was probably a stellar cycle ago, at least. (He doesn’t fucking know what Tesarus is up to, he’s not Tesarus’ keeper.) It reminded him distinctly of a library, on Earth. “Right, that would make sense.”

Tarn nods, looking down at him. “So you can find your way there.”

Sunstreaker glances away, then back. “Yes. Obviously.” He then turns his back to the larger, and starts to walk in the direction he vaguely recalls it being in, then–

“Wrong way.”

Sunstreaker halts right in his tracks. This is so frustrating. “I’ll find it.”

“You’ll end up lost,” Tarn sighs, “more lost than you already are.” He approaches the former Autobot, extending a servo to him. “Here, I’ll take you there.”

Sunstreaker, ignoring how absolutely mortifyingly embarrassing it is (or trying to, at least,) takes Tarn’s servo, and begins to walk alongside him. “You’re not too busy, oh powerful leader?”

Tarn exvents, in what might be a laugh. “No, not at the moment. I just finished helping Vos with something, and he’s probably off to go find Helex now.” Sunstreaker can practically hear the smirk behind Tarn’s mask. “I’m sure he’ll get there without issue.”

Sunstreaker bristles, and considers, briefly, shoving the datapads to Tarn and telling him that if he knows his way around then he can deliver the damn things himself, but he also recognizes that would not only be rude, it might lose him a lot of privileges he currently has. Instead, he grits his dentae, before letting out, “I don’t understand how you all can get around.”

“Well, we have been on board longer than you,” Tarn figures, which is reasonable, but it’s not enough.

“What about Kaon? He’s literally blind.” “Oh, the Pet,” Tarn gesticulates, and Sunstreaker starts connecting dots. The Pet could reasonably just lead him around. Tarn confirms this, and adds on, “Vos also helps him sometimes. Beyond that, once you’re used to the layout of a place, you can find your way without seeing rather easily.”

Sunstreaker huffs. “Well.” Again, logical, reasonable. That makes sense. “That makes sense.”

“It does,” Tarn chuckles. “You’ll get used to this all soon enough.”

“I’ve been here long enough,” Sunstreaker counters, “I ought to know already.”

“Everyone learns in their own time,” Tarn counter-counters. He’s being weirdly nice about this. Getting lost seems very inefficient, so Sunstreaker had gotten this idea that Tarn would be angry with him for not knowing his way around, but he’s being very patient regarding it. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but when Helex first came on board, he was still getting lost after three solar cycles. Not very attentive.”

Sunstreaker chuckles. “No, he doesn’t seem so.”

It’s comfortable, in a way, walking with Tarn like this. Embarrassing, sure, to hold onto his servo like a lost sparkling, but it’s comfortable. On some level, he hopes this can keep happening, he and Tarn can keep walking like this. Maybe it’s okay that he doesn’t know his way around just yet.

[minorisato]

bob is here now

transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 1042 / warnings: minor gore / notes: also reposted from my ao3!

Sunstreaker planted his helm into his servos. “This is a waste of time.”

Vos hissed something, and Kaon rubbed it’s back in comfort, like he was petting it, almost. “It isn’t a waste,” Kaon assured, “if we’re working together, it’s important for us to understand each other, isn’t it?”

“Why can’t Vos learn Neocybex.”

Kaon groaned. “It does know Neocybex! It understands us perfectly, it’s vocalizer just struggles to pronounce the glyphs. It’s trying.” Kaon frowned, and Sunstreaker only noticed that because that sentence was so ridiculous it caused him to look up. “It’s trying harder than you are, anyway.”

The yellow-gold mech groaned, going back to looking at his hands. “Okay, well, my vocalizer really struggles with ancient Cybertronian.”

“That’s impossible,” Kaon stated simply, “Tarn can speak it fine.”

“Well I’m not Tarn.”

Kaon was clearly willing to argue this for as long as it took Sunstreaker to just shut up and agree to learn the language, which was a form of torture in it’s own right. They should try it on the next traitor they find. Thankfully- thankfully?- The Peaceful Tyranny’s alarms began to blare, signifying that something was wrong. Something had boarded. The argument was blessedly dropped as Tarn’s voice rang out over the ship’s intercoms- something’s on board, we don’t know what, split up, find it, kill it. Kaon and Vos sprinted in the direction of the medbay, leaving Sunstreaker to search the back half of the ship. Primus knows what everyone else is doing.

He’d started with the doors that were closest, steadily making his way to the back-right storage room. Each room was just as empty as they had been last time I checked- the Peaceful Tyranny was a shockingly big ship, for having only six consistent passengers (seven, now that Sunstreaker was here.) After a while, he began to assume that someone must have found the intruder, but a quick check-in with Tarn revealed that no, no sign of them yet. So Sunstreaker sighed, continuing his search, before eventually making it to the storage room.

Storage was dark- it wasn’t always needed, so it likely saved on fuel to keep it unlit. Sunstreaker had also, notably, only been in it once. Upon finding Helex’s stash of casually decaying brains, which he was “saving for later,” Sunstreaker vowed to never enter it again. But, well. Intruder. He turned on his high-beams, kept a tight hold on his blaster, and started slowly maneuvering through the room. He was careful to mind the multiple crates that were definitely stacked far too high, the old, rusted grating, and brains, dear Primus do not forget the brains. For a mech so obsessed with regulations and everything being in proper order, Tarn sure didn’t seem to care about the absolute state the storage roo-

Shuffling.

Torn from his thoughts by the sudden noise, Sunstreaker turned in the direction it came from, only to find… nothing. Hesitantly, he stepped closer, noting that a significant section of the room was blocked off by a good amount of crates. A moment later, he heard that same shuffling. Something was in here with him.

Carefully, very carefully, Sunstreaker moved one of the crates blocking him from the noise, and-

It jumped at him.

He yelped, falling backwards. The crate fell to the floor, and he managed to not only take out a few others on his way down, but to land directly on that old metal grating, absolutely scratching his paint terribly in the process. Of course, he wasn’t actually thinking about any of that in the moment. He was far too concerned with the intruder- licking him.

Craning himself to finally get a look at the intruder, Sunstreaker realized it was not a mech, like he had originally anticipated. It was a small insecticon, likely separated from the rest of it’s swarm. And also it was licking him, a glossa poking out of it’s strange intake, chirring happily.

Sunstreaker lifted it from his chassis, finding little resistance to the act. It actually seemed perfectly happy to let Sunstreaker hold it. “Hi?” Sunstreaker greeted simply, and it made a few clicking noises in response. He felt his lip-plates twitch upwards into a small smile. “Far from home, hm?” Another few clicks, and a chirr.

At that moment, Sunstreaker’s comms came to life. “Have you found anything?” Tarn asked, and Sunstreaker squinted down at the little creature.

“Yeah,” he decided on, “but it’s complicated.”

~~~~

“There’s no way you can actually train that thing,” Kaon grumbled. “It’s going to end up eating half the ship.”

Sunstreaker felt some level of elated, watching Bob chow down on the old rusted grating- the same grating Sunstreaker had fallen onto, hours prior. “You get your pets,” he told Kaon, smirking, “and I get mine.”

“The Pet is different.”

“What about Vos?”

“Vos isn’t a pet,” Kaon hissed, and Sunstreaker couldn’t help himself, straight-up laughing at the other. “Even if it was, at least I can actually teach it things. I repeat that there is no way you can actually teach… Bob.”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “Tarn has faith in me.”

“Far too much faith, I fear,” Kaon sighed under his breath. Sunstreaker’s eyes widened as he looked from Bob to the electric chair. He then smiled probably the widest smile he had since joining the D.J.D.

“Kaon,” he started, “you wouldn’t be doubting Tarn’s judgement, would you?”

Said mech ground his dentae, optical ridges furrowing. “Of course not.”

Again, Sunstreaker just laughed at him. “Of course not.”

~~~~

Tarn and Sunstreaker both stared down at the insecticon- Sunstreaker with downright glee, and Tarn with some trepidation. It- Bob- was currently busying itself with some of Nickel’s tools, which she would undoubtedly need to replace. Still, neither of the mechs made move to stop the bug, sort of enraptured with watching it eat.

After a moment, Tarn turned to Sunstreaker. “Why Bob? As a name.”

The lamborghini shrugged. “It’s a popular name on Earth. Sort of has a certain charm to it, I think.”

Tarn squinted behind his mask. “You named him that as a fashion statement.”

“Maybe,” Sunstreaker grinned, shrugging again.

“You could’ve named him something powerful,” Tarn clarified. “All the names in the universe. But no. Bob.”

Sunstreaker nodded. “Bob.”

[minorisato]

all i think about is karma

transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 2297 / warnings: references torture, minor manipulation / notes: the beggining of my djdstreaker au! reposted from my ao3 :3

“That’s another one done,” Kaon smirked, making a note of something on his datapad. “This one wasn’t very fun,” Tesarus complained. “He didn’t fight all too much.” Helex nodded along with him. Vos, next to him, made a comment in ancient Cybertronian, prompting Tarn to step forward.

“A traitor doesn’t really repent until they’ve died,” he explained, in that way where every word he said sounded like it’s own little speech. “Even so, they still know what their fate will be. That’s good in it’s own right, it means our message is spreading further.” He turned to Kaon. “Who’s next?”

The two began to converse as the Peaceful Tyranny approached, and Sunstreaker stared up at it, feeling… sort of bored. Tesarus was right, that one wasn’t very fulfilling. Sunstreaker felt hollow as he watched the traitor just accept what was happening, that he was going to die. They hardly had to do anything at all before he accepted his fate and gave in to whatever torture the division had planned- not nearly as much as usual, once they realized he clearly wasn’t fighting back. He, in Sunstreaker’s opinion, obviously didn’t care about whatever life he’d managed to garner separate from the Decepticons. Sunstreaker couldn’t imagine that this fate was better than sticking with the failed faction for the sake of it, but he didn’t know.

The Peaceful Tyranny landed, its doors opening to the mechs below. As soon as they did, a turbofox burst from the inside, running at Kaon. And then jumping at Kaon. And then mauling Kaon a bit. The electric chair merely laughed, though the laugh itself sounded like the laugh of a madman as he greeted his pet. Perhaps if The Pet was an actual turbofox, Sunstreaker wouldn’t mind the display, but knowing what he did, he just cringed away from it in disgust. They should get an actual pet, he found himself thinking, one that isn’t just a braindead mech who can’t transform.

Sunstreaker turned to get back on the ship, when Tarn suddenly called out to him. “A word?” He asked, and Sunstreaker let Kaon pass him with his trotting freak. “You don’t seem very happy.”

The yellow-gold mech scoffed. “Am I supposed to?”

Tarn seemed to consider him for a moment, which Sunstreaker had come to figure was a generally very bad thing, but eventually he began making his way to his ship. Sunstreaker trailed behind him, optics to the ground. “Everyone else gets some sort of fulfillment from this,” he explains, “be it by helping The Cause, or in another way. Everyone else is also a dedicated Decepticon, brought on by Lord Megatron himself.” Tarn paused, sparing another glance at Sunstreaker. “You are clearly an exception to that, but here you are anyway, having insisted on working with us.” Another pause. “I suppose I’m just curious what you stand to gain from being here. What, exactly, you’re getting out of it.”

Optics still to the ground, Sunstreaker replied, “Same thing as you are, probably.”

“This is a tentative alliance at best,” Tarn clarifies, which Sunstreaker knows. He’s known that since the beginning. “Any day now, this could change.” I could kill you. It goes unsaid, but the intention is there. The meaning of every word is clear.

“I know.”

Tarn lets out a vent, heavier than his others.

They board the ship.

~~~~

“Alright, you look fine,” Nickel tells him. Of course, Sunstreaker always looks fine- compared to the dirt and grime and energon constantly coating the rest of the D.J.D., he’s still up to par, consistently keeping up with being the best-looking mech in any given room. “How are you feeling, though?”

“Fine,” Sunstreaker tells her, referring to his physical health.

“Emotionally,” she clarifies.

“You aren’t a therapist.”

“No, I’m not,” Nickel agrees, gritting her dentae. “But I’m your doctor, and Tarn refuses to put any of our grave-robbed funding into getting a fragging therapist on the basis that no one here has expressed the need for one, which is absolutely ridiculous coming from him of all mechs-” She shakes her head, dialing back. “So I’m both, actually. Besides, if you start malfunctioning ‘cause you got too sad and didn’t wanna talk about it like a grown mech, that won’t exactly be helpful.”

Sunstreaker wasn’t certain that could actually happen, but he also didn’t know enough to call her out on it. “Fine,” he repeats.

Nickel sighs. “Really? Totally perfectly fine?” She squints at him. “The torture and maiming isn’t too much for your precious little Autobot sensibilities? You want me to believe that?”

He shrugs.

Again, Nickel sighs. “Alright, sure, fine. I’ll just go ahead and ask. What the pit are you doing here?” She sits down the datapad she’d been making notes on, and is now looking at him directly. It’s uncomfortable. “You practically begged to come with us and help. I was there. So why.”

Sunstreaker turns his head downwards, noticing the paint near his knee-joint has started to crack. He’ll need to repaint it later. “Same as everyone else.”

Nickel scoffs. “Wow, really? Didn’t know Autobots suddenly got complexes about defending the Decepticon cause. Oughta call the Prime too, ask how he feels about it.” Sunstreaker chances a glance back at her, and she looks some flavour of incredulous. “I’m not gonna tell Tarn, if that’s why you’re flipping out.” (Sunstreaker, in his own opinion, was not “flipping out.”) “I won’t tell Kaon either. Or Vos. Or anyone. They’d take away my license if I did that.”

Sunstreaker picks at the paint chipping on his knees. “Can you actually understand Vos?”

“No,” Nickel chuckles. “Normally Tarn will come in with him. Sometimes Kaon will, but usually Tarn. There’s some exceptions made to the confidentiality rule when the mech needs a translator present 90% of the time,” she explains, and Sunstreaker nods along.

A bit of the paint falls to the floor. “I don’t think it’s bad to want people to get what’s coming to them.”

Nickel raises an optical ridge. “Do you actually think all those ex-cons deserved it?” This prompts a shrug from Sunstreaker. “So you just like watching them die.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he tries to explain, but Nickel just waves him off.

“Well, you’ll need to tell me just how complicated next time,” she resolved, “since you spent all the allotted time avoiding it, and I actually do follow some schedule here.” As she says this, a knock shakes the door from the outside. “Speak of the unmaker. I gotta take my next appointment now, get out.”

Sunstreaker is actually quite glad to do just that. As soon as the door opens, he’s met with Tarn on the other side.

He pushes past his boss- boss? Business partner?- nodding a curt greeting as he retreats from the medbay.

~~~~

The next stop is distinctly farther away, on the planet of Messatine. It acts as something of a base of operations, Kaon had explained to him, and Tarn had business to take care of on the snow planet before they could continue onto their real next destination. Business which he’d decided, for no apparent reason, to shove onto Sunstreaker.”It’ll be easy,” Kaon had assured him, “just walk in and ask to see Pharma. He knows it’s due.”

Sunstreaker was not entirely certain what Kaon was talking about, but he also knew better than to question it.

When he walked into Delphi medical facility, he first noticed just how run-down it had seemed. He also noticed that the person greeting him was distinctly not Pharma. Pharma was almost-kinda-half-famous as a surgeon, mostly for the fact he had studied under Ratchet, and the fact that he managed to be a jet and a doctor. The mech at the counter, exhaustedly filling out paperwork, Sunstreaker had never seen before. “I need to see Pharma,” he told the desk mech, who only glanced up for a second.

“He’s kinda busy.”

“Okay,” Sunstreaker started, “well I kinda really need to see him.”

Again, the desk mech glanced up at Sunstreaker, holding his gaze a bit longer. “You don’t look like the usual. You look like an Autobot.” He paused. “You are an Autobot.”

Sunstreaker isn’t arguing with a nobody.

He’s sort of saved when the mech he’s actually looking for walks through two swinging doors. Sunstreaker turns to him, and they both give each other a bit of a look-over before Pharma speaks. “We aren’t accepting any new patients at the moment.”

“Tarn sent me,” Sunstreaker replies simply, and the surgeon scoffs at him.

“You can’t expect me to believe that, Sunstreaker.”

Of course, because he’s also almost-kinda-half-famous. He readies his blaster, aiming nebulously for Pharma’s chassis, ending up pointing it close to his Autobrand. “I don’t give a slag if you believe me, he’s gonna be angry at both of us if I go back to that ship empty-handed.” Pharma is staring down at the gun, but the desk mech still just looks exhausted. Like this happens a lot. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume you don’t want that.”

Pharma clicked his glossa, turning to the desk mech. “When First Aid gets back, tell him to check room 36R,” he says simply, and then disappears behind the swinging doors again. This time, Sunstreaker follows him.

The walls of the hallway are just as bad as the walls of the entryway. They look like they’re actively decaying. It’s lined with doors, and Sunstreaker can hear a cacophony of mechs coughing and hacking behind each. Some are sobbing. The lights flicker overhead. This seems a lot less like a place to heal and recover, and a lot more like a place you could go when you’re just waiting to die. It was unnerving. It was worse here than on the Peaceful Tyranny.

At some point, Pharma stopped in front of a door that didn’t look any different than the rest. The only noticeable difference was a sign that read “STORAGE.” Unceremoniously, the surgeon lifted a metal crate out of the room, and then dropped it in front of Sunstreaker. “Take them and get out.”

The desk mech stared at Sunstreaker as he left. ~~~~ Sunstreaker never looked in the crate. Tarn seemed happy with it, and that was what mattered.

They could finally get on with their lives to their actual destination. Kaon had briefed them on who the traitor was, and what he’d done- generally, it was something along the lines of “ran away from battle” or “was enjoying life after the war ended” (though, of course, none of the D.J.D. really thought the war was over at all.) Sunstreaker wasn’t exactly paying attention, he didn’t care. Nickel wasn’t wrong- “defending the Decepticon cause” wasn’t why he was here. He himself wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. Why he needed to be here.

He still hadn’t gotten around to repainting his knee-joint. That bothered him.

Autobot traitors weren’t treated the same way Decepticons were. You were always allowed to come back if you were really really sorry, but not everyone believed you were sorry, and that was made worse when you weren’t really sorry. Almost no one would forgive, and no one ever forgot. Even if you swore up and down to not do it again, they’d never forget that you had done it at all. You were included technically, but in actuality you were ostracized. When you were an Autobot, you suffered, and when you were a Decepticon, you were killed. One felt so much more merciful than the other.

It felt wrong. To ally with the D.J.D. while being a traitor himself felt so wrong, but he needed to. Because the truth was that those Decepticon traitors had it so much easier than being an Autobot traitor- and still, people would look at the D.J.D. and think that they were the worst beings in the galaxy. Sunstreaker had seen worse. He’s been through worse. And all those stupid ex-cons, maybe they didn’t have it coming, but they sure had something good going for them. They sure didn’t appreciate it. Maybe that’s why he’s here. He’s so jealous. They all had it so much easier than him. When Helex shoves your brain module down your throat, you’re usually far too dead to notice.

From somewhere in the Peaceful Tyranny, music resounded. Sunstreaker felt himself carried towards it. He’s so jealous.

He’d already, even during his time still serving the Autobots, resigned himself to being hated for the rest of his existence, as long as his spark burned. He had accepted that his betrayal would follow him to his far-too-late grave, and the mechs he’d once considered his friends- his family- would never speak to him again. Of course he left. Of course he left. What was there for him, with the Autobots? He’d been through enough. He’d been through more than enough. Those idiotic Autobots and nobody ex-cons all had lives he could never have again, and they didn’t even appreciate it. Maybe they did deserve it.

The music got closer. It was so unfair. Sunstreaker could name a hundred Autobots who had done worse than him. It was so unfair. Optimus himself wasn’t perfect, but people followed him without a second thought, hinging on every word he said. It was so unfair.

Right on the other side of this door. The music was coming from here.

A traitor doesn’t really repent until they’ve died, a voice called, in the back of Sunstreaker’s helm. Tarn’s voice.

The same mech who was looking down at Sunstreaker now.

Sure feels like it.

“Sunstreaker,” Tarn began, reaching out to him. He just barely grasped the former Autobot’s servos, pulling him gently into the hab. “Do you want to come in?”

[minorisato]

this empty husk's been consumed by love

transformers / tarnstreaker / wc: 265 / warnings: NSFT / notes: part of my au where sunstreaker (idw) is a member of the djd . i do have other fics with more context for this au which i will likely post at some point

Tarn looked good like this.

Sunstreaker ran a servo over his helm, fingers dipping lightly into the creases, a gentle, encouraging gesture. Tarn leaned into it, bright red optics glancing up at the ex-Autobot. Sunstreaker smiled down at him, keeping his knees spread, one on each side of Tarn’s helm. Tarn’s intake was wrapped around the gold mech’s spike, energon dusting his faceplates aa light pink. Even his scar had taken on a nice hue.

“You’re doing so good,” Sunstreaker praised, leaning his helm against his fist. “Not everyday you get to serve another mech like this, right?”

Tarn hummed a vague agreement around Sunstreaker’s spike, causing the gold mech to shudder. His arms were bound behind him, keeping him from any attempt he might make to take control. Sunstreaker let out an appreciative sigh.

“You don’t do this for just anyone, do you?” The mech asked, and again, Tarn hummed an affirmative. “Well, aren’t I special.”

Tarn attempted to pull back, only for Sunstreaker’s grip on his helm to tighten, keeping the larger in place. Tarn struggled lightly, though only for a moment, soon relaxing once again into Sunstreaker’s touch. “No stopping now,” Sunstreaker told him, “We agreed on a full hour. You wouldn’t want to give up now, would you?”

Tarn huffed, unable to reply.

“Can the fearsome leader of the D.J.D. not handle it?”

Another huff, followed by Tarn’s glossa licking along the underside of Sunstreaker’s spike. The ex-Autobot jumped at the feeling, letting out a moan.

“So you can handle it,” Sunstreaker smirked. “Good mech. Only 26 minutes left.”