#autobot!bonecrusher

[randomposts-27]

Bonecrusher: me hate you

Barricade: I know Bonecrusher

Bonecrusher: me hate everyone

Barricade: I know Bonecrusher

Bonecrusher:

Bonecrusher: me think you good listener

[rbillustrations]

New Transformers related work from me for a cover of TFUK Guide.

[syppys-den]

there is no way bot wasn't originally part of the video

would bee survive?

[crocomum]

Lost Not Light: Chapter 2

Optimus Prime heeds Prowl's warnings about Megatron in the worst possible way; making him the tyrant's official chaperone aboard the Lost Light.

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Basically Prowl gets sent to the Lost Light for an attitude adjustment disguised as a mission and the Constructicons tag along, using the opportunity to more aggressively court their sixth now that he's essentially alone. ao3

Five Constructicons walk into a bar.

Chatter hushed to raised whispers; the bartender asked, “Any weapons?”

“Got your weapon right here,” Bonecrusher flexed. “A weapon of mass-construction.”

Awkward laughter, somebody coughed; the loud chatter and overcharged revelry recommenced. The little red and white bartender laughed the loudest, his expression of befuddled amusement. Bonecrusher grinned, real proud of himself for that one. Their entire night’s plan would fail if they couldn’t get their peds through Swerve’s door, and Bonecrusher was pretty sure he’d just earned them their ticket in with a good if hokey joke.

“Alright, alright,” the little bot nodded. “Tables are free, drinks aren’t—got any preference?”

Mixmaster took that as his cue to saddle up to the bar while the rest of them looked for the whole reason they’d decided to join in on the first night's fun.

Long Haul took point on locating their objective, using his height to scan over the crowd. Scavenger, their most curious member, turned his helm in every direction it could, not out of any enthusiasm for their objective, but to scope out all the bots who didn’t know him. Some who didn’t even know of him—the gestalt’s personal loose screw was already imagining how he could twine himself onto already established clicks; endearing himself to them in ways that had never worked among their old faction.

Bots liked chattery little try-hards. Decepticons? Scavenger never would have made it without the rest of the team, a fact they regularly reminded him of.    

Hook’s arms were crossed in front of his chassis, field held tightly around himself. The surgeon had never liked crowds—crowds meant mingling with the masses, potentially bumping armor, or even, primus forbid, talking to them. And their hoity-toity Hook was too good for that; mech thought himself too good for just about everything and everyone. Except for the gestalt. For Prowl. 

Bonecrusher only had optics for the low-quality engex, blues and bright yellows, floating in polished glasses on the bar counter, the high-grade cubes that glittered in mecha’s servos, reflecting its glowing energy off round, dirty tables, and sat unbound on shelves lined with Cybertronian liquor. All wonderful opportunities for the Bonecrusher to exhibit his virtuosity—all brilliant little bombs ready to go off with the right detonator.

Good stuff, that high-grade. Lower quality, but not cheap. Problem was, he could tell the additives it had been blended with from visuals alone; proving the blend hadn’t been mixed by a master.

The flints of minerals and metals glinted in the bar’s dim lighting, giving the cubes a glimmer that reflected off bright Autobot armor. The resulting destruction were he determined to set it off would have been pretty, bordering on beautiful, a fine example of Bonecrusher’s particular vision of art. Only there were too many variables out of his control, the timing of the sequential explosions, the specifics of minerals, and even the amount of high-grade in the bots’ tanks were unknowns that could spatter his work with imperfections. And if he couldn’t control every aspect of the demolition, it wouldn’t be perfect; if it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worth it.

Prowl was worth it.

There were a lot of faces surrounding the bar, hopped up on stools, even more crowded together at the tables pushed up against the wall; toward the back, there was a circle of mecha who had cleared space for their own makeshift dance floor. If their unsynchronized bouncy shuffles could even be considered dancing. Huh, looks like the old Decepticon adage that an Autobot’s back-strut was too stiff to dance was right.

Simply put, the place was stuffed fuller than a pleasure-bot on payday.

Bonecrusher grinned behind his mask at the pack of wannabe dancers, wondering if he could convince Long Haul to toss Hook into the mass, and give this party some real entertainment. A ripple of amusement passed through the bond as Long Haul picked up on his thoughts. Beside them, Hook’s armor drew in impossibly tighter even as his field lashed out in warning at his conspiratorial teammates.

Don’t you dare.

They shared a chuckle at their surgeon’s expense but left the idea as nothing more than an amusing thought. Heavy-duty frames like theirs had to tread lightly on razor-thin ice; they couldn’t afford to crack through the Autobots' scarcely gained tolerance. There was too much ground for the Constructicons to lose so early into the voyage.

Was a big night, the first night. The Lost Light had breached Cybertron’s atmosphere and in less than a breem, the sounds of partying could be heard all throughout the ship. It bounced through the halls, coming from closed doors and shared recreational spaces, but the loudest had come from the bar. Music and mechs—now femmes too—all excitedly jabbering about what the voyage held, what their part would be in the grand epic of a quest: the adventure, the mystery, the romance.

Bonecrusher snorted at his own thoughts; romance, right.

Before the first merge, back when the Autobot was just a tool slotting in with tabs b, c, d, e, and g—before they knew Prowl was Prowl—the Constructicons would have sworn there wasn’t a romantic wire in their frames and would have fought anyone who suggested otherwise. But now?

Here they were on a ship full of Autobots, their own plating smooth where a purple sigil was once engraved, and looking for the one bot that had recently skyrocketed up their ever-lengthening frag that guy list; the only other to have made the list so fast was that puny fleshling, Spike Witwickey. The human held the record. Probably always would.

And if joining this slagged up, hug-fest, hippy-dippy ship’s crew wasn’t romance; the Constructicons would beat anyone who said as much.

The demolitionist rolled his neck, huffing and cracking stiff joints—what love did to a mech…Bonecrusher shook his helm, a rueful smile hiding underneath his mask, the demolitionist unused to his own foppish musings.

Within its casing, his spark swirled and warmed with affirmation from the gestalt bond; they all felt the same deep love for their sixth and they were all unfamiliar with the amorous turn their thoughts had turned in the light of that love. Warm fuzzies all around; Scavenger even turned from scouring his future victims (potential friends) to gently touch Bonecrusher’s elbow in assurance.

He frowned and shook off his teammate’s touch, not caring how the shorter mech wilted at the rejection; little Scav had thought they were having a moment. Over Bonecrusher’s greyed out husk. Just because he loved the little weirdo the same as he loved every other Constructicon didn’t mean he would tolerate the excavator’s wimpishness. They might be one big fragged up family who loved each other, had no hang-ups admitting as much, and would offline anyone who was dumb enough to call them weak for it—but they were in love with Prowl. It was different. New. Exciting. Terrifying. Excruciating.

Agreeing rumbles all around and Bonecrusher forced himself to focus on their self-assigned mission.

With Long Haul taking his sweet aft time finding the cog sucker they’d come to cosey up to, Bonecrusher decided to turn his gaze from the glowing cubes of temptation to the bots holding them, trying to spot who his taller teammate had missed. All he saw were blue optics and red badges.

Bonecrusher sneered behind his mask; it was no wonder the Decepticons hadn’t put their faith in the Lost Light’s frivolous voyage. The Constructicons hadn’t either. That wannabe Prime, Roddy-something, could make all the grand speeches he wanted about finding Cyberutopia and the Knights of Cybertron—but who would that utopia really be for? There wasn’t a single con onboard that hadn’t given up the faction and there wasn’t a coolant drop of doubt between them that the Constructicons would have been granted permission to join the crew’s roster had they not scrubbed their armor clean of branding before registering; idly Bonecrusher brushed a servo over the center of his bare-green chassis, the phantom ache of the nanites’ removal a reminder of just what they had been willing to give up for their ultimate goal.

The Constructicons didn’t believe in some distant fable of a Cyberutopia or need the recognition that would come with being part of the crew that found it; they believed in Prowl. They needed Prowl.

The real, tangible (touchable) Prowl who had holed himself up in the storage closet of an office he’d commandeered almost immediately after the Constructicons had placed their praxian’s soft, breakable berth into his personal quarters. They’d all made up excuses their bot didn’t believe, but had been too exasperated to call them out on, as to why all five of them were needed to heft the berth into his quarters, slowly, slow enough for an experienced construction mech to scan a full schematic of the rectangular space and learn the room’s exact measurements; course that was just hypothetical. Heh.

Out of their gestaltmates' unnecessary personal quarters, Prowl had marched around the ship like he owned it—and the Constructicons would make a valiant effort if that’s what he really wanted—looking for an empty room to take as an office. Because of course, he’d have an office. Their boss bot wasn’t on some pleasure cruise, he had a very important mission to accomplish, or so he had claimed while rejecting the Constructicons’ offer to parse out a section of their larger-than-most habitation suite for the tactician to use.

Once he’d picked a room, Bonecrusher and Long Haul had helped him set it up, tossing heavy boxes of whatever out into the hall until it was sufficiently empty enough to fit their praxian’s fancy desk and chair, barely. His gestalt mates had radiated their jealousy through the bond over Long Haul and Bonecrusher being the only ones allowed in such a tight space with their sixth, but the closet the praxian had picked out was too small to fit all the construction mechs at once; two comfortably, three if they squeezed.

They’d find him a new, bigger office later once they’d gotten ahold of or built their own blueprints of the ship.

Bonecrusher and Long Haul had used the opportunity to get in close with their smallest gestaltmate at every opportunity—Long Haul going so far as to use his longer limbs to accidentally brush against a stiff doorwing, just one digit casually running along the tip as he reached over top their praxian to look at a questionable (perfectly fine) light fixture above where he stood—it had been cute the way Prowl had chased them out immediately after; practically hissing like a turbo-fox, doorwings raised like hackles.

The desk he tossed in their direction was less so.

Long Haul had apologized for the accidental touch, not meaning a word of it. Prowl knew and went back to his usual silent treatment, watching the construction mechs through narrowed optics as they reset the desk and bowed out of the makeshift office before their praxian could start contemplating a chair toss.

The touch had been worth it though and Bonecrusher had been the first to slap Long Haul on the back out of respect for a job well done once the office door was closed. They’d be reliving the sensation of the intentional brush up in the privacy of their hab-suite for the orns—or until a more prolonged contact took its place. And there would be more: longer, willing, intimate contact with their sixth.

The Constructicons never left a job half done and wooing Prowl was easily the most demandingly complex one they had ever taken on. It would also be the most rewarding once complete. Once they were complete.  

The barbed walls their sixth had built around his spark would crumble under the might of Devastator, and each time the tactician painstakingly built them back up, blocking them from his side of the bond; the Constructicons would be observing, learning the tools and materials he used for their construction. The Constructicons’ courtship of Prowl would be a controlled demolition, identifying the structural weaknesses in his barriers and strategically (heh) targeting them, breaching closer and closer until it was too late for another rebuild because they were already on the other side.

Sweet anticipation rippled through the bond.

Turning from thoughts of their sixth to what they were attempting to accomplish for him, Bonecrusher’s visor narrowed as he sought out a homely white helm and a hideously gangly frame. Even in a crowd, the tall fragger should have been easy to spot. Was hard to hide that much ugly.

If they didn’t find their first choice of Autobum to cozy up to soon then they would need to pick another while enough of the partying crew was still sober enough to remember how well-behaved and welcoming the Constructicons had been during the Lost Light’s first underway party. They only required their chosen bot to be of a popular sort, a real name onboard and not one of the rejects who had joined as some misplaced grab at notoriety. They also couldn’t know any of the Constructicons personally, at least not too well. The one exception was Clown-dome, but he didn’t really know them, only their close association with Prowl. That fight at the cliffs didn���t count; any con would have done the same.

There he is.

Bonecrusher’s helm whipped around to where Long Haul was not so subtly shoulder gesturing to, his visor brightening as he spotted their quarry. His face mask hid the predatory smile that split his faceplate and a rumble of delight at how vulnerable their prey had left himself.

Seated all alone in a booth pushed against the side of the bulkhead, hunched over the table, and surrounded by what appeared to be multiple empty high-grade cubes sat Chromedome. There was no sign of approaching partiers, the bargoers appearing to be giving the lonesome bot a wide berth—just enough for five Constructicons to squeeze through.

Without waiting for the others, Bonecrusher set out on a path directly to the booth. Scavenger and Hook were close to follow, with Long Haul making up the rear as he usually does. A few scathing glances were sent their way as they passed partying bots and even more scrutinizing looks followed the ex-cons as they made their way through the crowd and into the empty space around their chosen company’s empty booth.

As he came closer, Bonecrusher noted that just above the table there was a single, small round window giving a limited view of the space outside. An odd design choice and one the Constructicons wouldn’t have gone with had they any part in the ship’s design. It was an obvious hull vulnerability, a waste of triple reinforced plexin-glass, and even aesthetically it was pointless—there was nothing out in space worth looking at, everything worth interest was already inside the ship.

Affirmative nods reached across the bond from everyone except Scavenger (and their silent sixth), but then the excavator had always held a strange penchant for the kitschier designs.

The closer the Constructicons came to Chromedome, the more they understood why none of his fellow Autobots had been brave enough to approach.

An open, heavy wave of misery poured from the bot at the table and the Constructicons allowed it to wash over their own tightly held fields, basking in Crum-dome’s unrestrained suffering. The four empty cubes surrounding the slumped-over mech were likely the reason for the uncontrolled emotions, but the Constructicons knew its source and it tickled their sparks seeing Chromedome exactly as he always should be. Alone.

The merriment Bonecrusher allowed to peak through his own field didn’t even need to be faked.

“Hey mech, been looking for you,” Bonecrusher’s mask lowered in an audible click, revealing a sharp-if-friendly smile. “Slide on over, we got something for ya.”

The other Constructicons' mask also lowered just as the slouching bot startled, sitting up with his visor stretched wide. “What, no you’re—”

But Bonecrusher was already lowering himself to sit, his bulk easily shoving Chromedome’s lighter frame to the booth’s corner as he slid into the long, cushy seat. Across from them, Hook and Scavenger piled in, their frames only narrowly missing each other in the cramped booth, only a vent’s worth of space between them. Long Haul hadn’t even bothered, having searched around and grabbed a chair from a table, without asking, and pulled it over to the end of the booth to sit, his legs spread around its back as he faced them.

Raising his helm toward the bar, Bonecrusher spotted Mixmaster performing an impressive balancing act with multiple cubes of high-grade balance on his bent, raised arms, a cube held in each servo for good measure. Scavenger spotted him too and they waved their teammate over, calling him through the bond.

Here, this way, we got him. 

Mixmaster’s optics lit up at the urging and carefully started making his way over to their booth, dodging various passersby and narrowly avoiding the gyrating mecha who had fumbled their way from the dancefloor. 

Chromedome didn’t wait for the mixologist to arrive before questioning the ex-cons surrounding him. “Did Prowl send you? This some kind of elavrate revenge?” The pointed accusation was dulled by slurred vocals and Bonecrusher was left wondering what the mech had actually meant to say.

Elaborate, Hook supplied and the rest of the Constructicons internally shrugged it off as unimportant. Kind of like the waste of parts himself, Chromedome.

What Prowl had seen in that walking set of rusted-rebar the Constructicons would never understand; except they did understand. They’d been in Prowl’s memories and seen everything to do with this particular toxic waste dumping ground of a relationship. Had seen their lonesome little bot’s exuberance at believing he had finally found someone who understood him, and would accept him—except Tumblr hadn’t understood him, Chromedome would never accept him; the Constructicons had done both and more. They were everything Prowl had ever wanted; he just refused to acknowledge the spark-proven truth.

Their praxian would though, there was only so long a logical processor like Prowl’s could deny the obvious. Especially with the Constructicons’ using the voyage as a means to prove their usefulness to the tactician in more ways than just their unparalleled construction abilities.

They’d have him, it wasn’t a matter of if but when.

“What, Prowl? Noooo,” Bonecrusher started, the others joining in, scoffing and snorting their denial. “Boss bot doesn’t even know we’re here—he’s been locked up in that little office of his for joors now.”

“His office? Here, on the ship; Prowl has an office?” Chromedome questioned; as if it was even a question.

“It’s Prowl, of course he has an office,” Long Haul shrugged, not feeling a need to elaborate.

The bot seemed to feel the same way, accepting the answer with a nod, but his unrestrained field was a buzz with uncertainty, hostility, and buried beneath all that, fear. That have been great, warmed Bonecrusher’s spark to know that even in a congenial setting they were able to pull that kind of reaction from a bot. Unfortunately, the Constructicons had settled on a play-nice strategy for the voyage and as satisfying as the fear was, they were attempting to engineer a more…amicable response from the mnemosurgeon.

Chromedome’s attention was taken from the Constructicons seated with him to the one who had finally reached their table as Mixmaster finally joined them. Not a drop of high-grade was spilled and he started placing the drinks on the table, putting one in front of each of the seated Constructicons before finally pushing away the empty cubes that had been surrounding Chromedome and replacing them with a bright pink, larger-than-everyone-else’s-cube containing something that smelled sweet, but potent.

Mix then took a seat on the sliver of bench remaining next to Bonecrusher, precariously balancing himself by placing a servo on one of Long Haul’s spread legs. The mixer gave said leg a squeeze, servo sliding up the larger mech’s leg higher than strictly necessary in a subtle tease.

Long Haul’s engine growled low, the larger mech sending an amused threat across the bond, implying he’d get Mix back for that later—something Bonecrusher looked forward to watching, preferably while they were all bonding and reexamining that brush of doorwings from earlier. Scavenger echoed his thoughts.

Hook sighed, loudly, continuing as though he hadn’t noticed the scrawny mech’s fear or his team’s less-than-pure turn of thought. “We helped him with the furniture arrangement and when we dared to linger–he flung the desk at us.”

Alright, back to business; being visibly chummy with Chump-dome.

“Was worried we’d have to build him a new one,” Long Haul chimed in.

“Three times!” Scavenger lifted his digits to the number, and the Constructicons all shared a laugh at the exaggerated memory.

“…heh,” Chromedome finally laughed with them, it was small, more of a chuckle than a full guffaw, but it was something. It was an in.

“He does that,” the Autobot tacked on, bringing life to his visor, the mech obviously taking the Constructions’ affectionate riffing at face value; as a derisive dig at their praxian. As if they would ever, as if Crud-dome had the right.

An astro-click of outrage flashed through the Constructicons, and in an exercise of previously untapped restraint, they reigned it in; kept their furious fields, full of violent desire, held close and their smiles wide, encouraging. Long Haul even managed a laugh, expression bright as he tilted a cube in the bot’s direction. Their faces may have been exposed, but their masks were up; even Hook had one firmly in place.

Their whole half-formed plan would fall apart if Chromedome felt threatened and seriously shooed them away, potentially calling his who-could-like-this-loser friends to do it. They needed to be big friendly hydro-pups who were happy to pall around with their new crewmates, sharing drinks and good stories all around. As the Constructicons, as Devastator, they had reputations amongst the Autobots—but that was all they had. There weren’t many bots who had actually encountered them personally on the battlefield and survived to bleat their terrified sparks out to the rest of the faction about it. And any who had ever made it to Hook’s operating table either died under the surgeon’s scalpel or offlined themselves soon after to escape the memory of piercing agony he had engraved directly into their most primordial systems.  

The Autobots knew of them, feared them and rightfully so, but they didn’t know them. Dispelling those very true rumors and winning a short-tether of trust with the crew was the second phase of their grand plan to win Prowl’s spark—the first phase was always conception, and even that was vague, Scrapper had been the master architect and without him their plans had become shaky, erased and rewritten lines on blue vellum paper. The second phase was also the most well thought out part of the plan; they weren’t even completely sure what the other phases were, only that all good plans had multiple phases. All of Prowl’s had, anyway.

But their plan was one their cute-but-competent helmsmen would have never been able to put together himself, let alone pull off. It revolved around being the one thing their sixth couldn’t be—Personable.

And it was working so far: they had gotten into the bar with no major incident, sat with a popular bot who was laughing at their jokes, enjoying their company (kind of), instead of telling them to frag off. That Chromedome hadn’t yet, considering their proximity to Prowl and the mech’s protoform deep hate of him, was their luck and they knew better than to push it.

Bonecrusher still wanted to kill him.

Stick needles into the back of their helm, root around in their processor, removing memories, leaving them spread wide open for the enemy to plug in and control—commit the deepest act of violation known to Cybertronian kind—and Cybertronians had been around for longer than most recorded species; they knew a lot.

Happen to any of them and the Constructicons would be sitting with a dead mech. Soon as they’d learned of the betrayal, they’d have welded the traitor to Hook’s med-berth, or a solid refueling table, or even built him his own personal slab of insulated metal; any flat surface would have worked, really. Then they’d have taken turns breaking him apart, putting him back together, just to take him apart all over again. It’d have been different each time, too. Each Constructicon getting to put their own preference on the method.

—Bonecrusher would widen the mech’s transformation seams, just enough to slide detonation cords throughout his frame, little tetryl boosters placed over the sensor heavy sectors, where the wires clustered. He’d set off a controlled detonation and watch as the mech’s armor rattled and broke apart in sequence, from helm to ped. After the armor fell away, the same would be done to the underlying protoform, twisting the cords into wires and fuel lines, connectors that held internals together. Layer by layer, until every piece of the mech had been broken apart under his deftly crafted demolitions. Bonecrusher would have started with the visor first, though. Just plucked that right off his face and gouged out any optics beneath. Was always fun to see himself reflected in dull optical glass, fear making them pull wide so he could see more of himself, but he enjoyed the way their electro fields went crazy wherever he touched when they didn’t know where he would touch more. The perfectly measured destruction would be beautiful, even more so if Prowl was with them watching, supervising, approving.—

They’d have killed the skinny glitch over and over again, and made him grateful for when it was the last. They still would if Prowl asked. And slag, did they wish he would ask.

But he wouldn’t. Their sixth had only gone so far as to say something mean to the scrawny slagger after finding out—Prowl was soft like that. Soft like that berth the five of them had their optics set on during that first fun move to the Lost Light. (They already had plans to modify their own after it, making it more welcoming for when their sixth eventually joined them on it.)

The Constructicons were willing to play nice with Chromedome in public, they’d suffer his continued function if only because pointing servos would immediately turn toward their sixth were he to disappear. They wanted those who would point and accuse their praxian to reassess any distaste of him because the Constructicons liked him, and they liked the Constructicons. But they had a line that couldn’t be crossed and they needed the crew to want to respect that line—Prowl.

“Yeah, he does,” Bonecrusher finally managed, vocals a rough grunt—he hoped the Autobot thought it was a laugh from shared humor. “Never seen a mech hate a piece of furniture that bad before.”

“I have,” Scavenger’s visor brightened as he wiggled in his seat, radiating an inordinate amount of enthusiasm through the bond, the excavator excited to be part of a conversation, to be tolerated by anyone but his fellow gestaltmates. “They…they hated the wash racks and never went in them, ever.”

The top of Bonecrusher’s visor raised at the mention of the seekers. The story was well known among the Decepticon rank and file but had never quite made it to the Autobots as anything more than speculation. Nothing of any significance to the war, but a juicy bit of gossip that could potentially capture a bot’s attention just enough for him to forget who was telling it.

Good call.

Scavenger beamed through the bond.

“What, ya mean the seekers? They didn’t hate wash racks, they were just scared of ‘em,” Bonecrusher said as leaned back, casually laying a strong arm across the bot’s shoulders. He felt the plating beneath his own tense, but the mech didn’t pull away. Good, good.

A tug too hard, a flex too strong, and those shoulders would buckle and bend beneath his hold; the joint sockets sparking as they tore beneath the Constructicon’s pure laborious power. The mech’s dismantling would be quick, satisfyingly so. The mnemosurgeon was worth less than a klick of the Constructicons’ time outside of a torturous setting—he wasn’t worth even a nano-second of Prowl’s.

“…The seekers were scared of wash racks?” Chromedome questioned, his tone disbelieving, the overcharged mech entirely unaware of Bonecrusher’s vicious imaginings.

Scavenger fidgeted in his seat, “they um, thought everyone wanted them? Their wings I mean. They’re not so hot though, there are uh…better wings.” The last bit was mumbled and Bonecrusher’s optics rolled behind his visor; he agreed but now wasn’t the time to subtly imply how smelter hot they all found Prowl.

“He means they thought us dirty grounders would all jump ‘em if they ever used solvent,” Bonecrusher salvaged, even though that was supposed to be Scavenger’s job. “Completely flew over their helms how not everyone’s preferences ran aerial.”

“Arrogant,” Long Haul huffed.

“Delusional,” Hook supplied.

Bonecrusher and Mixmaster hummed their agreement as they let it all sink in for the Autobot.

Chromedome’s visor was pinched, his helm tilted ever so slightly in such a way that implied concentrated thought–what little the glitched mech was capable of, overcharged or sober.

“…Did they just not wash?” The bot finally asked, likely cross-referencing everything he knew about the narcissistic frame type with the new information the Constructicons had just given him; his high-grade heavy logic drives struggling to fuse the two.

“They did,” Bonecrusher answered. “Though no one ever saw them doing it.”

“Even…even if you did, no one believed you,” Scavenger commented with a pout, having been subjected to that particular disbelief and mockery more than once.

Hook patted the excavator’s leg under the table in solidarity. The other Constructicons had shared Scavenger’s memory and believed him; hadn’t stopped them from joining in on the ridicule. Or calling him (rightfully) a creepy little voyeur.

“Most believe they made deals with Starscream for the use of his personal washracks,” Hook said. “Some even claiming it was the real reason the air armada was so loyal to him—It’s not true, but who are we to get in the way of a good rumor?”

“…So they just didn’t wash?” Chomedome asked incredulously, his optics wide in disbelief.

“Oh they did, and they were cutting deals, just not with Starscream,” Bonecrusher clarified as he glanced at the high-grade Mix had gotten them. It looked weak, but then what could he expect from an Autobot ship?

“Then who?” The bot questioned, snapped really, white plates shifting impatiently beneath Bonecrusher’s servo. A miserable and snippy drunk? Chromedome really was the worst kind of everything.

“Soundwave,” Hook answered.

“Soundwave?” Chromedome repeated.

“Soundwave,” Bonecrusher confirmed with a nod.

“But why?” The bot asked, his field finally losing that last hint of fear and hostility, replaced with open curiosity. There it was. They got him. Wouldn’t matter if the scrub bucket didn’t remember their conversation come the morning, and he probably wouldn’t. What mattered was the rest of the bar watching them have it.

“For information on Starscream, of course,” Hook smiled, delighted by the duplicitous nature of the seekers toward their own commander whenever he was reminded of it. The surgeon had always loved a good betrayal—Chromedome’s own toward Prowl the sole exception.

Were the bot not wearing a mask, Bonecrusher was pretty sure Chromedome’s jaw would have dropped. “That makes too much sense, or no sense at all, I’m not really sure I—” Cutting himself off Chromedome reached up to press long fingers onto the back of his helm. “Primus my helm hurts.”

Hook, sensing an opportunity to show off, began explaining, “It’s the high-grade, it causes the fuel in your tank to burn faster, which disrupts communication between the circuitry in your processor and your filtration system. Your processor is over-firing due to the increased demand and overcompensates for the delayed response, causing a helm-ache. Nothing a little coolant and med-grade won’t fix.”

Finishing his explanation, Hook’s derma curled into a conspiring grin. “Or if you’re looking for an immediate relief, more high-grade helps.” The medic gestured to the untouched cube of high-grade they’d bought for the Autobot.

If anything, Chromedome looked more pained by the explanation and had brought both servos up to grip his helm, squeezing and messaging it in a way the Constructicons knew wouldn’t work.

Bonecrusher used the lull in conversation to peek around the room, grinning at all the bots that had turned to openly stare at the construction mechs. He tilted his helm toward Chromedome and if not for his visor, he’d have winked. The stares were a good turn, they wanted as many optics on them as possible.

Misery had begun to seep back into Chromedome’s field, causing Bonecrusher’s grin to widen. They’d been seen, possibly accepted, which meant they were done with the scrawny bot. Best if they moved on, and found a few others to mingle with before retiring to their shared quarters. Maybe even make a few passes at Prowl if they spotted him on the way.

“Why are you here?” Chromedome questioned, breaking the table’s silence and sounding depressingly sober. Though finding no hostility directed to ward them, the Constructicons decided they had been technically successful with their mission.

The mournful mech’s misery turning toward the Constructicons was their final sign to bow out and move on, but their tolerance for Chromedome was at its lowest and the five of them sensed an opportunity. They’d continue to play nice a little longer, just enough to grab the knife of grief digging into Chromedome’s spark and twist it. All while maintaining the friendly façade of comradery.

“Course we’re here—we’re crew!” Bonecrusher crowed with a smile, acting oblivious as to the real reason the bot would be asking them that.

“No, I mean why are you here with me?” Chromedome emphasized, then through a narrowed visor. “I know Prowl hates me.”

“Hate you?” Hook frowned as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“Prowl doesn’t hate you,” Mixmaster assured.

Unfortunately.

“We are not the most…approachable mecha onboard. An inevitable consequence due to our previous loyalties,” Hook tactfully remarked. “We are attempting to change that image through repeated positive contact with the crew.” The surgeon supplied, fully confident Chromedome wouldn’t remember complete details of their conversation come morning.

“Prowl had good memories of ya, figured you’d be as good a start as any,” Bonecrusher added, hating how true the former part of his statement was.

“…He did? That’s not…,” Chromedome shook his helm only to wince, clearly not sober, but wary enough to realize maybe he should be. “Why are you really here—what do you want?”

“Why, to share a drink with a fellow crewmate—and to thank you, of course,” was Hook’s honeyed response.

“Thank me?” Chromedome puzzled.

“Course, bot like Prowl never woulda bonded with us willingly; big bad cons like us? He’d sooner offline,” Bonecrusher responded, keeping the amusement he felt at watching the bot’s frame begin to slump in response to the bulldozer’s words locked in tight around himself.

Chromedome did no such thing, the now anguish bleeding from his frame. Bonecrusher greedily soaked it in, relishing the Autobot’s torment over their cheerfully delivered thanks.

“But you gave him to us,” Scavenger whispered, red visor shining with reverence.

“Wrapped him up all pretty like an energon goodie and dropped him off at our door like an early creation day gift,” Bonecrusher complimented with a soft, appreciative rumble.

Slump. Slump. Slump.

“Best present we ever got,” Mixmaster affirmed.

They all nodded and Bonecrusher even gave the bot a good little jovial shake of appreciation.

“And Constructicons have been called a lot of things over the years, but ungrateful ain’t one of them,” Bonecrusher went on; more nodding and murmurs of agreement.

“We always pay back our dues,” he promised, visor burning a dark red.

Bonecrusher’s smile, more a nasty grin, stretched wide as he pushed a high-grade cube into one of the Autobot’s now limp servos, taking it underneath his own and squeezing to make sure the grip stuck. He felt the delicate white plating crunch, satisfyingly, underneath his hold; he didn’t let go. Instead raising the servo-held cube of high-grade up. His fellow Constructicons raised theirs in answer, smiles all around.

Bonecrusher leaned in close to the lump of limp guilt—was it guilt? His derma dangerously close to touching one of the smaller mech’s audials as he growled low, hot air venting across thin armor.

“This one’s for you, Tumblr.”

Cheers.

[saxandviolins77]

I have a feeling most people don't actually care for Bonecrusher's character, so I made a little post talking about what I find interesting about him.

Enjoy 😙.

I know for a fact that Hook, Mixmaster, and Scavenger are the most popular out of the Constructicons and that's fine, but I feel most people don't really KNOW what makes Bonecrusher interesting as a character.

OK, I'll be fair here and say that most of his substantial character traits come from obscure stuff or are not developed, but his most obscure bio is used on his TFwiki description... so... Not that hidden.

Take his Sunbow writer's guide page, for instance. It establishes that he is destructive and brutish, but more importantly than that, his job is a performance to him, an art form if we can put it this way. That already paints a whole different picture of him. Yes, he is violent, but he's also a self-proclaimed artist.

Even in the cartoon, Bonecrusher doesn't act like a thug (I hate this word), as most people and IDW2019 portray him. He's surprisingly stoic (yeah, I didn't take it from nowhere). He's violent, sure, but he's also dedicated to the task at hand. Take G1's "The Autobot Run", an episode that feels like the writer was faithful to the guides. In said episode, while Long Haul is the one wanting to fight directly, Bonecrusher comes and admonishes him, talking about how the device they are building will "wreck those Autobots good," as he puts it. (Bonecrusher has sparingly appearances and lines in G1, but most of those lines are of him being violent or him just going about his work day.)

This for me is the cream of the crumb of Bonecrusher's canonical characterizations, directly from Transformers: The Ultimate Guide by Simon Furman himself. Aside from that, this book has some pretty innovative things for the Constructicons; the fact that this was written by the same person who wrote the Dreamwave bios makes it feel like a natural expansion of what's already established. Though, for whatever reason, Furman focuses a lot on the "survival of the fittest" part of Boner, like, I know... '86 Movie! But C'mon!

(The Dreamwave bio was omitted due to redundancy.)

Now, in my personal opinion, you can see a pretty interesting base for a character. A perfectionist who expresses his desire for perfection by violently destroying everything he considers flawed. A performance artist in his own right.

The only thing I outright reject from Canon is the fact that he has a 3 in intelligence and a meager 6 in skill. Well, color me fucking surprised! He must be a very shitty DEMOLITIONS SPECIALIST. I sound petty, but I simply feel he shouldn't be dumb as bricks ( I also don't need him to be Hook levels of smart.) Keep him a brute, but a competent brute who actually does his job well. (take this with a grain of salt; I have a very weak suspension of disbelief when it comes to jobs not being portrayed accurately.)

Either way, I just wanted to shine a light on what I like about the Boner guy. Have a fine day/evening/night. 🥱

[theneptuneflytrap]

Rating G1 Quotes: Constructicons

Bonecrusher: "Hit it till it stands no taller than dust" 9/10 grandiose way of saying destroy stuff but I respect that.

Hook: "Strive for perfection even others must suffer" 7/10 kinda boring but also ominous considering he's a surgeon.

Long Haul: "A battle front is only as good as its supply line" 8/10 I think the writers of the quotes really liked this format because it's very similar to Chromedome's but I think LH is the OG so I'll let him have this.

Mixmaster: "How strong the steel, how quick the conquest" 10/10 fantastic, brilliant, I need him to say this in a piece of media.

Scavenger: "Everything is worth something, even me" 100/10 YOUR ABSOLUTELY RIGHT BABY YOU ARE WORTH SOMETHING

Scrapper: "My work is a monument to--and of--my enemies" 8/10 monument of your enemies, right got it you use dead Autobot parts in your monuments, monument to your enemies??? Yea ok, freak.

Devastator: "Thinking and winning do not mix" 6/10 I-I don't think, no I don't think that's right baby. Try again?

[raptorfae53]

TFA SEASON 4 CONCEPT/EPISODE LIST.

OK so after a bunch of you liked my post regarding Arachnus prime and with all the new info revealed at tfcon 2024, I think it'd be right to show off the plan I concocted for the rest of TFA season four surrounding it:

Episode 1+2 - The Trial of Megatron

Now considered heroes team detroit are joined by some new faces as megatrons trial commences ,but a visiting travelling show unmasks itself as a surprise jailbreak! But theirs more than meets the eye to this seemingly chaotic scene.

Tldr: Megatrons trial gets Interrupted by the stunticons trying to bust him out of prison and the verdict of which has him thrown in jail indefinitely, Megatron himself isn't too displeased with this however and intends to manipulate everyone around him to get out, starting with the new magnus,Sentinel.

Episode 3 - A Devestating plan.

DirtBoss is back,and with the promise of free oil has roped some new bots into his latest scheme,one involving getting that troublesome Bulkhead out of the picture for good,or rather putting him to better use...

Tldr: Dirt boss cronenbergs a combiner out of Bulkhead,Scrapper,Mixmaster, and four other bots (the animated versions of Scavenger, Longhaul,Hook and Bonecrusher).

Episode 4 - Planet of the Micromasters

After Bulkheads disappearance,bee is acting more sullen and avoidant at the rest of team detroit. So when a jaunt through Detroits new spacebridge leads him to a planet full of tiny Cybertronians who immediately take to him as their leader,it's going to take the whole team to pry him back home,especially since his "subjects" aren't ones for sharing...

Tldr: Bumblebee understandably isn't taking the respective disappearance and death of two of his friends well, and team detroit open up about how the situation has affected them too to get him back from the micromaster horde.

Episode 5 - Triple trouble

Sentinel unveils a new team of autobots to deal with the decepticon menace,the triple changers! Stronger than the average bot with three distinct modes,but these new supersoldiers have a dark secret that causes chaos their grand unveiling...

Tldr: sentinel buys the blueprints for blitzwings triple changer tech from lockdown (who has his own plans for the tech...) to build new Autobot triple changers, and it goes terribly and predictably wrong.

Episode 6+7 - I think I'm a clone now

New autobots are popping up all over detroit,causing trouble and chaos regardless of intent across the whole city,and they all look like Optimus Prime! What or who could be behind this?

Tldr: Blackarachnia clones optimus multiple times (four to be precise, resulting in tfa versions of optimus primal,toxitron,pyro and nemesis prime) in order to figure out how to purge herself of her technoorganic side,only for them to escape and wreak havoc across the city.

Episode 8,9 and 10 - Sideways in spacetime

Thrown through a rip in spacetime by a spacebridge accident, Optimus and Blackarachnia and pals find themselves in a parallel world where their fates were switched and Blackarachnias attempt to get home unleashes a whole new breed of monster into their reality!

Tldr: this previous post.

Episode 11 - It came from Cybertron

In optimus and ironhides absence, Sentinel sends a new bot, Cosmos to keep tabs on team detroit, but when a chance encounter leaves this bot thinking he's an actual alien invader,trouble follows...

Tldr: desperate to keep in control of everything Sentinel sends his secretary to keep team detroit in line and overworked as is,it pushes poor cosmos over the edge and he goes crazy,and the optimus and Ironhide-less detroiters have to catch him before he's hunted for sport by Master Disaster and Nemesis Prime.

Episode 12+13 - Transform and Rise Up!

"Megatron" unleashes his superweapon,a machine that turns cybertrons metal surface into a beast infested jungle!!!, leading to Sentinel Magnus to finally give in and unleash Megatron to deal with this "predacon" insurgency as a last resort, It doesn't end well...

Tldr: Sentinel finally snaps,makes a horrible decision in the heat of the moment fueled by stress and prejudice and all of Cybertron pays the price as the autobots are forced into exile on earth.

I hope you like this long-in-the-works post regarding tfa season four, I do have plans for a season five to wrap everything up once and for all (as well as introduce tfa versions of even more characters including the other maximals and sixshot) but I'm still considering how exactly to structure and plot it,in turn I will probably do some more writing and possibly some art for the characters and scenarios introduced here, so do watch this space!

[eldritchwaffless]

My personnal headcanon concerning Bayverse Optimus Prime

This headcanon concerns bayverse Prime general ruthlessness. In general I felt that Prime was (almost) always justified in his brutality since the Decepticons in this continuity are just such murdering assholes. But I've noticed how in TF 2007, he's much less ruthless, his only brutal kill being Bonecrusher, who is honestly 1000% justified. The dude engaged Prime in an highway, killing dozens of innocents. Prime was totally justified (as for the brutality of the kill itself, in fact the brutality of all his kills cpuld be explain this way, I'll argue that Cybertronian in this continuity are hella hard to truly kill, so destroying key parts of their body make sense)

It's really in TF 2 that Prime becomes more bloodthirsty. I wouldn't call Demolishor's killing ruthless, the dude needed to be stopped and Prime gave him an overall pretty quick death. Had he not kill him, the humans would've probably done so, or worst experimented on him.

Where Prime really becomes ruthless is in the forest battle and afterward and honestly I think it make sense, here's my headcanon; When the fight begin, Prime was at first pulling his punches a bit (you can see, he had a few opportunities to stab Megatron and didn't, he instead punched him, or would stab him in more minor places) once Megatron calls Starscream and Grindor and Prime gets beat up yet keeps pulling his punches a bit, but does stop at some points (I'll take you all on) and kills Grindor. Yet it's too little too late, Megatron stabs him from behind and kills him.

So in my headcanon, the last thing Prime see and realize is that, because he pulled his punches, because he hesitated, the Autobots are left leaderless. Earth lost their defender, Megatron is back and he failed to protect Sam, the human who had risked his life for his.

Once he's brought back he sees how much Earth was in danger. Because of his hesitances he had been killed and all life on Earth was almost destroyed...

In anycase, this is how I see it, how I justify his action, but I'll admit that I prefer him how he is in like skybound continuity "Make no mistake Soundwave. I desire peace. But I am no fool" and I wish we can see such a good balance between ruthless war leader and gentle fatuer figure in future movies (haven't seen Transformers One yet, so no spoils pls)

[crying-fantasies]

Loved your Prowl/Constructicons/reader thing you wrote earlier!

I'm especially intrigued by the way you write from Devastator's perspective and about the gestalt psyche as a whole, any headcanons about that? (no pressure!)

Thank you for your kind words!

Well, it's mostly based on what happened in RID and the combiners wars, where, from time to time, you can see mainly the thoughts of the center of the combiner and the thoughts of the very combiner in between, a psyche born from every component, and it was just so cool to me, because in the way it acts and how it talks you know who is inside, of course, it changes between the gestalt's own team.

I remember, back with G1, every component needed to have a personality component, as in their own "me" had to be hard enough to not get lost inside or something like that, and if that didn't happen the combiner would be weak, and sometimes I link that "me" with the idea of "what I want to do" in order to form a combiner.

If there is consensus over at least one thing, a combiner can happen, or you use the Enigma of Combination and create one by force, whatever goes your way, really, but in the second scenario you must see if it can stay together because launching together 3 or more bots can result in all of them going their way without a real objective and simply fall apart.

Defensor, for example, can transform since all the protectobots share a single ideology: "I must protect my people and I must protect the defenseless humans", because we've already seen how this specific combiner treats humans as they were his kids, that comes from Streetwise, maybe a little bit of First Aid is what handles the main idea since Defensor is also know for having medical knowledge to some point, the part were he stops to think before going full rage? That's Hot Spot alright, but that fury when the innocent is in danger's way? That's Blades, the part that tries to calm the wounded? That's Groove, they aren't exactly close to one another, but sharing a similar, if not exact, objective in mind is what makes Defensor, but their differences show in how they can't keep their force shield together for more than a few seconds.

Devastator, it's been said time and time again how the constructicons all share one thing, rage, anger, be it against the autobots or whatever, their rage is what forms the most iconic combiner of all times, but it isn't perfect, in almost every continuity Devastator is an amalgam of different mechs that didn't want anything to do with one another (like, majority of all the decepticon gestalt teams) but by Megatron's order it must happen because it just must, hence you have a strong as fuck combiner, but that's it, there is no great procedure and the constructicons have been burned from this, in the early comics you motive how Mixmaster wasn't as crazy as be ended up for example and Scavenger's anxiety is also more notorious, Bonecrusher is mad all the time like Long Haul and Hook is way more fixated on making everything perfect, they're all mad at something, just look at Scrapper, who wanted to be away fromt them for a moment, and what happened to him, most irregular components merged together must remain together to be sane since now they are tainted with one another and it can cause insanity.

Now, Devastator with Prowl, finally there is no only anger in their shared mind, there is options, thousand upon thousands of options than the whole team has ever seen, than what Devastator even had the processor to even imagine, and Prowl gives him something that he never had before: the idea of freedom, and they all love it because Prowl is a mad, gray freedom that they would die for to be real.

Then we have perfect child, perfect team and perfect combiner: Superion, whose whole gestalt team is in synchrony by force, because it's Superion himself that put his components in mute an goes on his way, using the shared idea of destroying the decepticons of his components to keep going and not falling apart, but this is a bad movement, since there is no center there is no bond, no talk, and Superion struggles to even talk or do something as simple as moving something if it isn't related to eliminate the decepticons.

Now, if we put in something they want, or at least one of the components want, you may catch the interest of the others or the combiner itself, as it happens with Prowl, the constructicons and Devastator, because they share it, and depending from how they take it you have a different result, and since the constructicons are awful and insane Prowl's little human conjunx is also theirs to some degree now, so, somehow in their beaten psyches, Chainbreaker is also theirs.

Devastator hasn't been formed since it's time of great peace (freaking finally) but he'll also go along the lines of "if he is yours then he is mine, since you're a part of me" kind of thing if he sees Chainbreaker, more prepared when all his components know about Prowl's progeny, not like with reader when he was hit with the revelation during the bond, and just for the record, the son of a glitch that asked you out was Bonecrusher.

[tonikkyn]

To be honest, I didn't think about how different the Constructicons are from each other. No, of course, I knew before that they were actually different. Even if I confused them outwardly, but now I finally have the whole picture.

It turns out that I needed to read these cards about g1 from the very beginning, so as not to walk around like in a fog for several years

Scrapper is modest. Hook works until it reaches perfection. Bonecrusher is the most aggressive of all. Mixmaster is a chemist (yes, logical, but it didn't occur to me) and sometimes uses Autobots as ingredients. Long Haul is not interested in building at all. No one likes Scavenger, who even gives small gifts to his teammates, and he has low self-esteem because of this. And Devastator, contrary to my previous opinion, is far from the most friendly gestalt.

I'm probably even ashamed that I didn't know this for such a long time. I thought they were a friendly team. And how much they got used to each other that their company does not change in any way.

Eh...Well, at least if before that I thought I felt like this guy

Now I've found someone who really looks like me

(I can't stop laughing... This is a transformer in purple pants <XD )

To be honest, I don't know what I can wish for the end... I know that my knowledge or ignorance hardly means anything to anyone. I'm just a random person in your recommendations, maybe even in subscriptions, in hashtags or somewhere else. But I'm sorry that I was so flippant about some of my favorite Transformers... Headcanons are interesting, but canons are their foundation.

In general, all the best, peace and everything you want from this life, I hope these few paragraphs with text and nine pictures were not too wasted of time for you

[nova--spark]

I’m honestly kinda surprised you like Mr. Give Me Your Face from the Bay Movies. Many people don’t

Oh I adore the Bay movies.

It is a core memory.

So, to give some backstory, I was 7 years old when the first TF movie came out. That same year, I moved from Mexico, to the United States [Texas]. My father works in car junkyards, fixes up the crashed ones and puts em for sale, fixes up some for folks, sells car parts, what have you.

Well, I was brand new to the USA, and here's this movie about living cars, who bonded with these humans, and the main one, this giant imposing robot, knelt down to speak to this young teen boy, and spoke with a gentleness and trust.

As a little kid, this movie was my first 'American' film, and intro to TF as a whole. I still remember how I cried when Bee was grabbed by Sector 7, when Optimus fought Bonecrusher, the fight for the AllSpark, and just

I know that with the Bay movies, they made Optimus more violent, more...not like himself, but when I watch these movies, I fondly remember being that new girl, in a new country, new school, new to the language, and seeing these alien cars, and asking my dad if HE saw an Autobot or Decepticon at his job, because well, what else would he see??

I remember actually, going to see Revenge of the Fallen in theaters when my mother was pregnant with my littlest sister, and hiding my face during some of it's scenes.

Crying when Optimus died, and cheering when he was revived, with WINGS?

Bayverse may not be everyone's favorite, but it absolutely is one of mine.

Hell, this scene right here

From Age of Extinction?

Was the keystone of Anthea, and the whole of her story, continuity and more.

I will always, always adore Bay Optimus, because of what he symbolizes for me. His voice was comforting, and I remember feeling happy every time I saw the movies and saw him.

He is, in the weirdest and fondest of ways, a comfort character, and a core memory builder for me.

[sonicasura]

Out of all the Transformers iterations, Bayverse Autobots and Decepticons are most likely to get turned into Bakugan. The old school style toys with more simplified play style. Not the shitty reboots that get worse every time.

Both sides would HATE it cause they are tiny gumball sized toys with barely little resemblance to themselves in ball/toy form. All the colorless gray bots get a new paint job as attributes are given at random. The more aggressive ones like Ironhide or Megatron take it a lot worse as a pockets have become the equivalent of baby jail.

Want to make the situation even more chaotic? Put all of them under a single human's care and said person being the only one who can allow them to (temporarily) assume their true form. A very weird situation since the game there is completely normal card game, not the TV show/videogame variants.

The war definitely ain't continuing unless the newly dubbed 'Bakugan Bots' or 'Bakubots' want to get thrown in the time-out for misbehaving. Let them get forced to get along for two years as forced found family is hilarious. Then toss everyone into a different Transformers iteration and watch the fireworks.

Bakubots alongside their human partner trying to survive as these versions aren't stuck in a toy form plus but are still fighting too. Meanwhile both factions are so fucking confused by this strange fleshie who can summon peculiar Cybertronians that radiate strange energy. (And share very familiar names or similar behavior.)

I love chaos plus this thought wouldn't leave me alone. Lol

Edit: Extra details cause why the fuck not?

-Q and Wheeljack are separate bots, not the same person.

-Only faction aligned bots are in this situation. Neutral such as Scourge aren't. Sentinel ain't here since he takes advantage of both factions and thus Neutral Evil. Fallen is also Neutral Evil.

-Minicons/Cassettes function as Bakugan Traps. Thus they have multiple elements to benefit from Ability and Gate Cards in return for their non-existent power.

-Size doesn't equal strength. Only power/Gs matter in a fight.

-Gate Cards can be set whenever and wherever. Only 3 are allowed out so one has to activate before another can be added.

-What each Attribute is. Pyrus: Fire, Aquos: Water, Haos: Light, Ventus: Wind, Darkus: Dark and Subterra: Earth.

I looked up a wiki for the entire cast below as I haven't watched the movies in years.

Autobots

Optimus Prime- Pyrus

Bumblebee- Haos

Ironhide- Subterra

Ratchet- Ventus

Jazz- Darkus

Elita-1- Haos

Arcee- Pyrus

Chromia- Aquos

Mudflap- Subterra

Skids- Ventus

Jolt- Haos

Bulkhead- Pyrus

Evac- Darkus

Jetfire- Ventus

Wheelie- Subterra/Pyrus

Brains- Aquos/Haos

Stratosphere- Ventus

Air Raid- Haos

Breakaway- Darkus

Silverbolt- Subterra

Mirage- Pyrus

Sideswipe- Pyrus

Sunstreaker- Haos

Crosshairs- Ventus

Hound- Subterra

Drift- Aquos

Q- Aquos

Wheeljack- Ventus

Roadbuster- Pyrus

Leadfoot- Subterra

Hot Rod- Pyrus

Topspin- Ventus

Grimlock- Pyrus

Snarl- Ventus

Scorn- Darkus

Slash- Pyrus

Slog- Subterra

Slug- Aquos

Strafe- Haos

Decepticons

Megatron- Darkus

Starscream- Ventus

Soundwave-Aquos

Frenzy- Darkus/Subterra

Ravage-Darkus/Pyrus

Lazerbeak- Darkus/Ventus

Shockwave- Darkus

Bonecrusher- Subterra

Blackout- Ventus

Scorponok- Subterra

Barricade- Pyrus

Brawl- Haos

Sideways- Haos

Mixmaster- Aquos

Scavenger- Subterra

Overload- Pyrus

Rampage- Darkus

Hightower- Ventus

Long Haul- Subterra

Scrapper- Haos

Hook- Subterra

Driller- Subterra/Haos

Igor- Haos

Nitro Zeus- Pyrus

Mohawk- Aquos

Crankcase- Subterra

Crowbar- Darkus

Berserker- Ventus

Hatchet- Subterra

Devcon- Aquos

Stinger- Pyrus

Grindor- Subterra

[w33zerbluealbum]

TRANSFORMERS OC!!!!

This is Ricochet!!!!!!! He's a military attack helicopter. He lost his right hand in an accident and Rachet (the medical robot) was able to repair it and give him a helicopter blade spinning hand thingy, whatever you wanna call it. He has wheels on his feet so he is able to sort of rollerskate when in robot form like Bonecrusher in the first movie. His wing looking things are the helicopter blades, and those spin as well, meaning he can sort of float above ground in robot form, but can't fully fly. He has weaponry torpedo looking bomb thingys on his back for battles and he can also light up his chest lights during darker times of the day. The bottom, darker "wings" on his back are the helicopter doors. He has exceptional vision and can see very well in the dark.

Please reblog, I spent a lot of time on this and I'm pretty proud of it!!!! /nf

For non Transformers fans, here's a basic sum up of the first movie's lore if you wanna know it.

To put it simply, the Decepticons (evil robots) want to take over Earth and kill the humans. They are searching for The Cube and the Allspark, which both have immense power and if they fall into the wrong hands, they could be terribly destructive. The Autobots (the good robots) are doing everything they can to try to stop them from destroying Earth and taking it over. The Autobots are sided with the humans.

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, what can you tell us about the bounty hunter Nightfright?

Dear Batty Bountiful,

Nightfright was the brother of the Predacon known as Screechwing, and shared his alternate mode of a large cybernetic bat, though he was red in color. As a bounty hunter, Nightfright was well known for taking jobs from the Predacon Council where he was tasked with hunting down turncoats to the Predacon cause.

I've already told you of how he slew the Dinobot Terrorsaur and was slain by Grimlock in retribution, but Nightfright's targets were many. In one particularly harrowing job, he was sent after a mark by the name of Bonecrusher, a former Predacon who transformed into a bulldog. Nightfright tracked Bonecrusher to the refuse reclamation center he'd come to live in, and though the canine Maximal fought viciously, he succumbed to Nightfright’s phobia-inducing hypno-waves; Bonecrusher was overcome by visions of his greatest fears, leaving him defenseless to the bounty hunter.

Still yet another victim of Nightfright's was the grasshopper Maximal, Kickback. A craven coward, he left the Predacons and cozied up to the Autobots with promises of secret intel. Nightfright discovered that Kickback had a taste for organic snacks, and set a trap for the ravenous Insecticon… by ensnaring some aliens to use as bait. While Kickback devoured them, Nightfright snuck up behind the Maximal and blasted him.

There is one last job of Nightfright's, however, which truly lays bare his vile barbarism—his hunt for Apelinq, a particularly noble Predacon who deserted over moral objections' to the Council's cruelty. Apelinq did not resettle among the Autobots, but instead took refuge on a distant planet, where he became protector of a group of indigenous natives. Rather than target the formidable Apelinq directly, Nightfright terrorized his protectorate, picking them off after sundown one by one… until Apelinq was near-catatonic with grief and guilt, unable to muster the will to defend himself against the bat Predacon.

Nightfright was a truly corrupt individual, and his death at Grimlock's hands was met with relief by Autobots, Maximals, and Predacons alike. It is said that not even Screechwing mourned his brother's passing.

[saxandviolins77]

About Bonecrusher—I feel that this is one of the more mysterious Constructicons since he doesn’t talk much. From looking back at the cartoon, I felt that the small bits of dialogue he had in “The Secret of Omega Supreme” and “The Autobot Run” suggest he is competent and smart, and like every Constructicon other than Long Haul, he DID act as mission leader at one point in the G1 comics (US #41) yet his Dreamwave bio suggests he’s not very intelligent. I think one approach might be to conclude that he is smart, but people assume he’s not due to stereotypes and the fact that he won’t verbally correct these misconceptions. More meathead Decepticons aren’t needed. That being said, recently I’ve considered the idea that maybe Bonecrusher could be dissatisfied with how Scrapper is the only Constructicon Hook secretly admires according to bios? Hook has yelled at everybody though not BC to my knowledge, I don’t think he takes any issue with BC’s skill level, but I wonder if BC could be unhappy with just being viewed as a fun equal to hang out with and not someone to look up to. Although who knows, maybe BC just needs to show off more.

YES! That's how I see it and portray it!

He sits and observes instead of making a big deal about himself; that goes for everything. So what if people think he's not intelligent? He knows himself, and as long as they don't bother him, he'll stay in his own lane. (Maaaaybe he gets a little bothered by ppl misreading him as a brainless brute, but feeling hurt is showing weakness, and he doesn't do that).

Honestly, I don't think Bonecrusher cares about what Hook thinks, bro. Like, as long as Hook acknowledges his skill and smarts, it's fine; he doesn't need his admiration.

[itneedsmoregays]

My history with Transformers

So the Transformers franchise is officially 40 years old. It's pretty amazing how an inherently silly concept like alien robots who turn into cars has lasted this long and shaped so many childhoods.

Every fan's introduction to it, young and old, is different so I'd like to share my own story:

I watched a lot of cartoons and animated movies as a kid, quite a few of which had fantastical elements. But for some reason, I was the type of kid who didn't care for superheroes or giant robots. I knew of Transformers from an old VHS trailer for Armada, as well as that McDonald's ad for Hamtaro and Transformers toys, but that was as far as my knowledge of the franchise went.

It wasn't until 2007 when my brother got Michael Bay's Transformers movie for Christmas. I'd seen one toy advert for it but hadn't give it any other thought. When he asked me if I wanted to watch it with him, I shrugged and said: "...Yeah, sure, whatever." So the next day, we sat down and watched it. After it had finished, he found it okay... but I, on the other hand, was completely mesmerized throughout the whole movie.

Everything about it astounded me: the action, the visuals, the distinctive designs of each robot, the way the parts of every vehicle folded into every robot's body. Now I finally saw how neat giant transforming robots could be.

If I remember correctly, my favourite Autobot was a tie between Jazz (the cool guy of the group) and Optimus (the big badass truck with the awesome voice). And my favourite Decepticon was Bonecrusher mainly due to his wicked design with the wheeled feet and that claw on his back, along with the fact he was the only one other than Megatron with the ball bearings to fight Optimus (I was really bummed I couldn't play as him in the PS2 game LOL). Afterwards, the very first Transformers toy I owned was Deluxe Class Wreckage which I bought from a charity shop.

It's pretty safe to say that from that point onward, I was hooked on Transformers (the Bay films at least, before I learned the problems with them later down the line). I saw the two sequels, started collecting the toys, drew the characters, played the tie-in games, and even called Dark of the Moon my favourite movie at one point.

While the fourth film was being developed, I was hungry for some more Transformers content. So I decided to try giving one of the TV shows a chance. I was unsure where to start, until I discovered a clip of Optimus and Megatron fighting from Transformers: Prime which has just finished its first season. My interest peaked, I watched the whole show and found that I loved it even more than the Bay films, finding all the characters, stories, action and humour to be major improvements. At present, it's still my favourite Transformers show. (Arcee's my favourite 'Bot while Knock Out and Starscream are tied for my favourite 'Cons)

In-between Prime's mid-season breaks, I also took the time to watch the original G1 cartoon, including the 1986 movie. It was nice to go back to the franchise's original toyetic and silly yet still adventurous and enjoyable '80s roots. Despite having been spoiled on Optimus Prime's death years in advance, it still got me emotional (that soundtrack kicks ASS).

I even bought and played the War for/Fall of Cybertron games on PS3, loving the epic scale and the robot designs which seemed like a sleek blend of G1 and Prime. It was also my first time playing a Transformers game that took place entirely on Cybertron rather than Earth, which was really cool.

Suffice to say, all this exposure to different Transformers content and having fun comparing them had strengthened my love for it. And despite now knowing full well how nonsensical, repetitive and dull the movies were by comparison, I decided to give Age of Extinction a fair chance once it finally came out... it blew. XD I didn't even bother to watch The Last Knight later, and from what I've read up on it, I didn't miss much.

And since then, my subjection to other Transformers avenues has only grown:

I watched a tiny bit of Robots in Disguise (2015) but didn't find it as engaging as Prime

Watched all of Animated (fun show, really should rewatch it at some point)

Found Bumblebee to be the best live-action movie with a touching smaller-scale story, slicker action and more memorable villains (thank you, Travis Knight)

Got to meet David Sobolov at a convention (really cool guy) and compliment him on his performance as Shockwave

Checked out all of Beast Wars (R.I.P. Dinobot)

Watched the wholesomeness that is EarthSpark (don't care what anyone says, it's great)

Had a fun time with Rise of the Beasts (loved this version of Mirage)

And I may go to TFNation this year to meet David Kaye, Gregg Berger and Kathreen Khavari. Hopefully in the future, I can meet Peter Cullen and Frank Welker as well!

So, yeah, that's my vividly detailed history with Transformers. In spite of the degrading quality of the Bay sequels, I still have a soft spot for the first movie. The effects and action sequences (especially Blackout's introduction, Scorponok's attack and the highway fight) still blow my mind, and it was the movie that struck a chord with me and prompted me to dip my toes into the vast ocean of this franchise.

And I'm incredibly thankful that I did. It's brought me so much joy over the years and I could never imagine my life without it.