#I'm a yapper and I've met a fellow yapper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

friedfriedchicken · 7 months ago

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Hello fellow WFC Breaksounder may I please ask for your head-canons of them 🙏

OHHH YOU GOT IT BESTIE- I'm writing a fic right now but I'm in writer's block so this is gonna be fun letsgooo

Gonna keep this fluffy because I'm in a fluffy mood (<- person who just posted an angsty fic)

I wrote a ton of like- story points- so I'm stuffing it under a read more because uhhhh that's long whoops

Headcanons on how they met because I'm a yapperrrr and I've barely had anyone to yap to about them <3

Soundwave and Breakdown first met during the war. It was by chance that Megatron brought both of them on the train-station-thingy mission but he needed a trusted officer and a good soldier who wound't yap (WFC Breakdown is a yapper but he wouldn't dare say anything that would get him on Megatron's bad side.)

Their first encounter stuck with Soundwave. He's not sure why but something irritating about Breakdown made him smile, or whatever equivalent he had.

Megatron, being old friends with Soundwave, could tell that his Intelligence Officer was comfortable and let his old-self peak through. Whether it was concious or subconcious, that's for Primus to decide. Breakdown really enjoyed being brought into this weird friendgroup for like, 6 hours, or something.

Breakdown and Soundwave wouldn't cross paths again until Breakdown and Knock Out were summoned to the Nemesis.

By this point, Breakdown has mostly gotten over his anxiety, being the character we know him as in Prime, which Soundwave found odd. Soundwave never bothered to keep close tabs on Breakdown because what problems would he cause anyways? Not enough to be a threat, that's for sure.

Anyways, they don't say much to eachother, they're just two Decepticons on the same ship.

That is, until Breakdown was taken by M.E.C.H. and dissected.

Soundwave suffered a similar, even more grevious injury, during the height of the war and felt like he had to help the wounded bot. Also Knock Out was out racing because who knew Jasper, Nevada had such great street races!?

So that put Soundwave in the position to patch Breakdown up. Breakdown was scared at first (who wouldn't be when Megatron's right hand bot is staring you down?) but when he figured out what Soundwave was doing, accepted the help.

Soundwave is a smart 'con and like any good doctor, started to observe Breakdown to make sure his body adjusted to the patch job. It's during this that Soundwave began to feel some odd emotions. Not the same irritations but, something else. He couldn't describe it but he wanted to know more about the blue-grey truck.

Breakdown took notice of Soundwave's sudden attention and took this as a sign to start opening up to the silent bot. Breakdown, as always, was a yapper and liked to befriend the Vehicons onboard the Nemesis because all the other officers were less than friendly or Knock Out. Talking to the same guy over and over again can get boring, as much as you like them.

Knock Out became suspicious of Soundwave but quickly deduced what was going on and started to play matchmaker between his friend and the Intelligence Officer.

And normal relationship headcanons because I am obsessed with these two

Their love language is gift-giving and acts of service. Breakdown has an interest in Earth with how different it is from Cybertron and likes to bring back little presents for Soundwave. Soundwave returns the love by grooming Breakdown, as taught by Knock Out lol. You can tell the two just had a date when Breakdown looks extra shiny and/or Soundwave is trying to adapt some Earth tech into the Nemesis' systems.

Soundwave doesn't like to leave the Nemesis because standing on Earth makes him feel cramped and lost so the pair don't often go on dates outside of the ship but when they do, Breakdown tries to find places similar to Cybertron to comfort Soundwave. They've been to a few drive-in theaters, courtesy of Knock Out, of course.

Sometimes Soundwave sends Laserbeak out on missions with Breakdown for "insurance" but in reality, Laserbeak is also in on the pairing-up. Laserbeak also likes to take pictures of Breakdown just for Soundwave along with actively making sure the Decepticons have footage of whatever's going on just incase something happens.

Megatron absolutely can not fathom why Soundwave had suddenly become interested in Breakdown. The warlord suspects that Soundwave misses the gladiatorial arena and is trying to scope out a new rival to re-enact the old days with so Megatron is a little worried he might have infighting among his soldiers. As long as Soundwave is functioning, Megatron won't step in but, y'know. He hopes it's nothing bad.

Starscream is oblivious to the on-goings behind him.

Airachnid also takes notice in the pair's chemistry but says nothing. It's not her place to talk and she wouldn't gain anything if she did besides look like a crazy conspiracy theorist.

Dreadwing sees Breakdown's and Soundwave's closeness but never thinks too deep into it until after Breakdown's death.

The Autobots never find out about Soundwave and Breakdown's courting.

Both Soundwave and Breakdown come to think their love for the other is one-sided until Knock Out has to break the glass between them. He's very blunt and even a little rude about it but he's just so fed up with them dancing around eachother and never with eachother that he just had to burst in. Laserbeak doesn't react well to this and gets embarrassed on Soundwave's behalf. They all sort out their emotions later and things go smoothly.

Breakdown hoped to fix his broken eye after the war ends but goes back on that thought when he realizes that he'd much rather match Soundwave. Maybe he can get a visor like Soundwave's to cover his missing eye!

Soundwave wanted to finally retire after the war but he starts opening himself up to other possibilities after starting a relationship with Breakdown. He'd be fine doing anything as long as it's with his partner and minicon.

When she's bored, Miko will start making up nonsense lore for the Decepticons to get the Autobots' attention. Her favorite is suggesting that Breakdown and Soundwave have a fairytale Shakespearean tragedy K-drama-esque romance going on between them and it really peeves a majority of Team Prime. Hence why it's her favorite nonsense lore. Even Agent Fowler gets heavily confused and concerned for Miko's well-being.

#FriedResponse #BreakSound #Breakdown #Soundwave #TFWFC #TFFoC #TFPrime #Transformers #Maccadam

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lady-maracas · 2 months ago

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Wildflowers, A RDR story - 0.4 - Friendship

Series Masterlist

-Emerald Ranch, New Hanover, December 1898-

The air is chilly, the December wind reminding me a new year is bound to start. I can't say I'm sad to let the past year go, considering how difficult it was for me. Being locked up for months for a crime I didn't commit really made me realize just how unfair life can be.

Recently, I've been busy, which isn't surprising based on the fact that I seem to accept every job that is given to me. I've assisted Cripps in setting up our revolutionary trading company, a task that has taken up much of my time and energy. One of my jobs involves skinning animals. Their pelts are particularly popular this time of year because of the chilly weather, folk use it for coats and boots. Hence, I've been deliberately avoiding Harriet, the animal protector, knowing she would lecture me about how I "brutally kill" animals.

I've also formed a good friendship with Maggie. We share similar personalities and, of course, a mutual love for moonshine that has drawn us closer together. Recently, I helped her find a new cook since our operations rely heavily on having someone skilled in the kitchen, especially after Danny-Lee decided to betray her and steal her customers. That's when I met a French fellow named Marcel. We get along pretty well, especially since we speak the same language—though his tendency to talk a bit too much can be overwhelming at times. Nonetheless, he's been doing a great job so far.

Speaking of chatterboxes, I also assisted Maggie in breaking her nephew, Lem, out of jail. To be honest, I don't think he's stopped talking since that day, though I must admit I found myself chuckling softly at some of his jokes. It's interesting how quickly these new friendships are beginning to grow on me.

As I enter the shack where we prepare our alcohol, a small cabin partially hidden in the woods north of Emerald Ranch. Keeping a low profile is crucial��making moonshine is illegal after all. I fix my hat while making my way down the stairs towards the area where we prepare the moonshine.

"Bonjour! (Hello!)" I hear Marcel exclaim cheerfully. "Qu'est-ce que je peux faire pour toi? (What can I do for you?)" he asks me, his enthusiasm unmistakable. I'm about to respond when I'm abruptly interrupted by Lem, the other professional yapper in our group.

"Good day, Marcel! Oh, hello Ms. Watson. How's it going?" It's clear he's busy, as he's holding a stack of papers in his hands, likely indicating a busy day ahead.

"I'm doing fine, thank you." I reply and smile at my friend before turning back to Marcel. "J'ai reçu une commande; une recette à la pomme rose, tu veux bien la préparer pour moi? (I received a Wild Cider moonshine order, mind preparing it for me?)" I ask the cook politely.

"Avec plaisir! (Of course!)" He turns back to the preparation counter, making sure we have all the necessary ingredients.

"You know, when you talk together like that, I can't help but feel like you're plotting something behind my back," Lem chimes in, sounding a bit left out.

"It doesn't count as back talk if you're in the room, Lem," I tease, laughing at the scoff he lets out.

"De toute façon, I got better things to do than talk about you, Lem Fike," Marcel retorts, his focus still on preparing the order.

"Thanks, you guys, you really make me feel appreciated, you know," Lem manages to say with a hint of sarcasm, though his expression shows he's half-heartedly annoyed as he glances at the pile of papers he's still holding."Anyways, I got this letter for you. Well at least Cripps said it was for you, apparently it's from one of your friends." He hands it to me and I waste no time opening it.

The letter is from Horley, instructing me to meet him and Jones in Blackwater as soon as possible. I recall meeting Jones a couple of weeks ago; the old man is certainly a funny character. He reminds me of Cripps in a way—both of them are distinctly quirky old men.

"Thanks, I gotta go. I'll see you both later," I say, waving goodbye before heading back up the stairs and exiting the dim light of the shack.

Stepping into the crisp air, I make my way back to my camp located in Great Plains. Scrawny Nag's whining serves as a gentle reminder that I sometimes ask too much of him. Poor horse.

As I arrive at camp, I don't bother dismounting; instead, I call out for my most loyal friend. "Sam! Sam, we've gotta go meet Horley in Blackwater!" I shout, my voice echoing through the vast landscape of the plains.

"Why?" I hear the tired voice of my friend drifting from his tent across camp. "I wanted to sleep, for once!" He sounds grumpy, and I can picture him rolling over, trying to ignore the call.

"We both know that's not true, Sam; you're always sleeping. Now c'mon, cowboy, we've got business to attend to!" I hear him mumble a few swear words under his breath as he reluctantly gets up and makes his way toward his horse, a sleek black Turkoman.

"We better get paid for this, let's go," he warns me before spurring his horse into a lope. I follow suit.

When we finally arrive in Blackwater, the bustling atmosphere hits us immediately. We spot Horley, who is patiently waiting for us, his face lined with anticipation.

"There you are. How did you get on?" he asks us, his tone professional yet friendly. I'm about to respond when I'm interrupted for the second time today.

"She got on just fine, you know she did," Jones jumps in, making his presence known. Sam and I exchange an annoyed glance, accustomed to his interjections. "Well, I know she did. You see it in the sky, you smell it in the air. She ain't a saint, but she's a good one. A fine gal in a nasty world! An American, I guess!" His nice words make me chuckle despite my irritation.

"What's with the praise, Mr. Jones?" I ask, genuinely curious about his sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, the madam picked you well!" he replies, referring to Mrs. LeClerk. "Horley, this gal will do more than avenge her; with any luck, she'll save us all!" He adds excitedly, his eyes shining with hope.

"Oh, there ain't no luck, Mr. Jones. It's just a woman's heart and not much else," Horley explains, his tone turning more serious.

"Well, she's got a fine one. Send her to help the marshal! The whole damn place is going to shit, and we need more good souls to let us loons rant in peace and howl at the moon in safety," Jones insists, pointing at me. I stand quietly, listening to them, confused by their fervor.

"Maybe..." Horley seems lost in thought for a moment.

"But, don't you and the madam kill the girl with vengeance—nor kill her inside with grief," I hear Sam sigh beside me. I turn to look at him, and he appears unimpressed with the conversation.

"I thought we had business to do, not listening to Jones talk our ears off," he says playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like you said, she's no saint. But like I always say; if you need to earn some money and stay somewhat out of trouble, go see Marshal Davies. He's supposed to stop every bastard killing innocent folk," Horley instructs me, his expression serious.

"And where can I find him?" I ask, eager for direction.

"Up in Tall Trees, I'll show you, c'mon!" Jones struts up to his horse, happy to help.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Jones." I get back on my horse, so does Sam.

"Of course, follow me!" He trots away, so we have no choice but to follow him.

"Marshal! Marshal Davies, this is the people I wanted you to meet!" Jones calls out as we arrive at the small camp nestled in Tall Trees. The area is serene, with towering trees surrounding us and the faint sound of a nearby creek adding to the atmosphere of the place.

"So you're Horley's protégés, huh? He did say you was decent. I hope so," the Marshal says as he looks forward. He appears serious and somewhat intimidating, with a sturdy posture and a keen gaze that suggests he means business. He's the kind of guy you wouldn't want to mess with.

"And he said to me that you stop bastards from killing innocent folk, so I guess that's one thing we got in common," I reply with a smile, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders as I engage conversation with him.

"This land is full of scum," he sighs, the gravity of his words evident. "I spend most of my time wishing they're better off left to it." Before he can continue, he's interrupted by Jones, who has come closer to the small campfire, wanting to soak in the warmth.

"Oh, they're good ones, real good ones! Heart of pure gold," Jones insists, rubbing his hands together as he tries to warm up.

"Go away, old man. I told you to go away," the Marshal snaps, clearly losing his patience.

"I'll go away, Mr. Marshal... I'll go," Jones mumbles in response, turning away and trudging back to his horse, a resigned look on his face.

"Tom Davies, US Marshal," he introduces himself formally, cutting through the tension.

"I'm Elizabeth, and this is Sam," I say, motioning to myself and then to my friend, who stands quietly, probably daydreaming about sleeping.

"I've been sent on the trail of a band of killers. This one, Alfredo Montez, killed a family up near Thieves Landing and did some unspeakable things. He's wanted in four states and two countries, and I think he's holed up near Manzanita Post. You take a ride with me to take a look?" the Marshal offers, and Sam and I exchange a glance before agreeing.

Each of us mounts our horses, the sound of hooves stirring up dust as we prepare to head to Manzanita Post.

"Follow me!" the Marshal directs. "I got a man been tracking him. When I left him, it looked promising, but we all know a trail can go cold in a heartbeat—particularly if the one you're tracking doesn't want to be found," he explains, his tone serious.

"That makes sense," I reply, trying to keep pace with his insights.

"Fortunately for us, signs point to Alfredo Montez not caring one fart for who's on his trail," he adds with a laugh. "You got bows? Something like that? You'll need them," he informs us as we continue our ride. "Coming up on the post."

In the distance, we spot our destination to the right: a small house and a shack, both enclosed by a fence.

"Now, I can't be seen to get too close to any of this. I'd be causing a crime or... whatever the damn law is. Ah, anyway, there's Lee, the feller we're supposed to meet," he says, gesturing toward a figure sitting on the porch of the house.

"Hello, friends!" Lee greets us with a wave.

"How's it going, Lee?" the Marshal responds, his demeanor shifting slightly.

"Montez is tricky, you know it and I know it. He knows we're coming, Tom. He's holed up in there waiting for us. The place is crawling with guards, patrols, everything. It's gonna be tough, you know?" Lee's voice betrays his nerves, a hint of nervousness creeping in.

"Well, that's what I pay you all for," the Marshal replies, and I glance back at Sam, who smiles slightly, clearly pleased about the prospect of payment for our effort.

"Yeah, paying us to do your job!" Lee bites back, his tone half-joking, half-serious.

"I can't go and kill a man in cold blood, Lee. Not while I don't have the evidence I need. But, I can turn an old-fashioned blind eye to an unfortunate dispute that I did not see, resulting in the death of some undesirables," the Marshal explains with a serious tone, his eyes flicking between Sam and me to ensure we agree with this morally ambiguous plan.

"Good thing I don't have a problem with an 'unfortunate dispute'," I say with a shrug, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension.

"Then that's perfect. Good luck in there!" the Marshal replies, offering a hint of encouragement.

"Let's go..." Lee instructs, leading us forward into the dense underbrush.

"Montez knows we're coming; it's best if we don't make too much noise," Lee advises as we set off. "There are going to be some guards, for sure. Make sure to take them out quietly, with a bow if you got one." He glances at my bow before looking over at Sam, who readies his throwing knives.

"There's a patrol up ahead; hide!" Lee drops down low, his urgency evident. Sam and I quickly find cover behind a large rock, the rough surface cool against my back. We exchange a look, silently communicating our shared goal.

"I take the one in the front, you take the one in the back?" I suggest, nodding towards the guards.

"You read my mind," Sam replies, slipping out of our hiding spot to find better positioning. Once I see he's settled, we share a final glance, then take our aim. My arrow flies straight for the front guard's eye, piercing through and killing him instantly. Sam's knife finds its target in the back guard's throat, the blade slicing through seamlessly.

"Okay, let's move on," Lee says, emerging from his own hiding spot with a smirk. "Cold-blooded killers, I see."

"Only when we need to," Sam and I respond in unison, a hint of camaraderie in our voices.

As we continue toward the criminals' camp, we cross paths with other guards. We make quick decisions, letting some pass while taking out others without hesitation. Arriving near the camp, Lee motions for us to split up, ensuring we cover as much ground as possible. We find hiding spots while surveying the area, preparing for what's to come. The guards seem aware of our presence, their movements tense and intentional.

I shoot first, mine using my pistols, a bullet finding its mark in one guard's chest. The sudden noise sends the camp into chaos; shouts and gunfire erupt in every direction. Lee, Sam and I keep to our positions, carefully avoiding unnecessary movements as we await our next targets. Each of us takes down a few more guards, strategic and efficient.

Finally, the moment arrives: we spot Alfredo Montez, our primary target. I shoot him straight in the head, without hesitation, his dead body stumbles from his hiding place.

"There he is; he's dead alright," Lee confirms as we gather around Montez's lifeless body. "Let me get him. You know what? All we need is the bastard's head." With a grim determination, he pulls out his hunting knife and decapitates the dead criminal. The sight is horrifying. Lee places the head in a bag and swings it over his shoulder. "Okay, let's go. Take one of their horses to get back to Manzanita Post."

Without hesitation, we gather the gang's mounts, leaving the scene behind us as we ride away. The rush of adrenaline surges through me, while some other gang members spot us and take shots in our direction.

We steer our horses skillfully, dodging bullets and navigating the path to make it back to the Marshal in one piece. There's an urgency to our escape, each second feeling more critical as we charge forward, determined to return successfully after the deadly mission.

After a couple of minutes, we find ourselves back at Manzanita Post, the dusty road crunching beneath our horses' hooves. The Marshal is waiting for us on the porch, his silhouette framed against the fading light of the day, casting an imposing figure.

"How did you get on?" he asks as we dismount, his expression unreadable but focused.

"Pretty well, I would say," I respond, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand.

"Here's his head," Lee announces with eagerness, pulling out the gruesome head from the bag. The sight is chilling; the head is harshly disfigured.

"Oh... That's very civilized," Marshal Davies replies with a note of sarcasm dripping from his voice. He inspects the head with a mix of curiosity and disgust. "Well, this should show folks that we're willing to bring law and order any way we can. But this ain't Montez. At least it ain't Alfredo Montez."

"You're kidding me? Who is it then?" Sam asks, surprise evident in his tone as he stands beside me, trying to understand.

"That's his brother," the Marshal sighs, his disappointment clearly taking over. The weight of the situation settles heavily, overshadowing our earlier excitement. "Anyway, here's your money. It's better than nothing, given that you killed the wrong brother. Now let's be clear; Jorge Montez was a no-good son of a bitch with a price on his head. Only in that family was he considered a saint. Alright, friends, I'll see ya up in Van Horn, if you get the chance. My next lead is that maybe Alfredo Montez will be there..." The Marshal waves us goodbye, his demeanor shifting back toward the professionalism we had first encountered.

"Killed the wrong bastard, well I'll be damned!" Lee scoffs, a wry smile on his face, before throwing the severed head away with all his might. It lands somewhere in the dense underbrush of the forest, a disgusting sight.

Sam and I exchange looks of amusement, the tension of the moment slowly fading away.

"Well, this was fun!" I laugh, reaching for my satchel. I pull out a cigarette and light it with a match, the flame flickering momentarily before catching.

"The only thing that matters is that we got paid. I can't believe you woke me up for that!" Sam giggles as he makes his way back to his horse, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I'll see you at camp?" he asks, looking back at me while adjusting his gear.

"Yeah, see you later!" I wave him off, taking a final drag of my cigarette before stepping on it with my boot, extinguishing the flame.

Killing the wrong folk... I let the thought linger in my mind. Why does this kind of stuff always happen to me?

Sam belongs to @sam-vdl , all RDR characters belong to rockstar games.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #charles smith #sean macguire #lenny summers #lenny summers x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #rdr

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