Me And My Friend @terum0b Are Having An Rp And- We May Have Decided Pirpi Is Evil This Is Canon To Her

what about light creatures and terms of endearment in different realms?

imagine islanders calling their significant others bird. or fish. imagine passage guide looking at kids running amock and thinking silly baby birds. imagine an ancestor telling their friend see that manta carrying a boat? that's what you are to me and their friend starting to sob

or maybe imagine prairie and the abundance of creatures there. your extremely talkative and extraverted best friend is a bird. the polite little kid that greets you every time you pass by is a whale. your newborn grandchild is a manatee because they do look like one. your first love is a butterfly and the adults used to call you and your friends jellyfish when you were doing silly stuff as children

or maybe imagine foresters praising their best students and calling them birds because one day, they will surely fly very high. imagine them using the names of all those beautiful and majestic creatures that inhabit (or used to inhabit, before everything went wrong) those lands as pet names for their partners. my whale, my jellyfish. imagine a parent calling their child little crab, playing and jumping around, not a care in the world. imagine these terms of endearment being considered old-fashioned during the industrialisation, and then coming back when people start trying to undo the damage they have caused

imagine valley, where animals are seen as inferior to people, and where no one really calls people they care about these silly things. and yet, there is no word that suits your amazing partner with the most mesmering voice ever better than songbird

imagine wasteland, where whales and mantas have been replaced by monsters made of pure darkness. still, the elderly call the new generations mantas and birds and whatnot, because these children are precious, they are their last chance to get out of this mess. imagine telling your friend bleeding out on the battlefield that they are as strong as a whale and will surely make it, and imagine them calling you a manatee because you are saying utter nonsense

imagine that there are no light creatures in vault, not really, but the day the scholars discover the first ghost manta, every single person in the building is referred to as such

and, even if eden is too much for any light creature to really live there, imagine seeing some passing by sparking hope in a young parent's heart. imagine them calling their newborn a bird, or a manta, or whatever, because they wish for their baby to fly away from this horrible place and have a happy childhood and a happy life in general elsewhere

imagine sky kids calling each other everything nature-related because they love everything and everyone equally. imagine ancestors looking at them and wishing they had done so, too

Favorite bird genre has got to be 'that's literally just a dinosaur'

Groove-Billed Ani

Hoatzin

Pheasant Coucal

Just a couple doodles of Satellite Soundwave 😋 I think that it would be a pretty silly idea that Soundwave smuggled Shockwave into Jetfire’s space crew 😌 Jetfire thought it was just a random possession of Soundwave’s but turns out it’s a whole scientist, who woulda known… maybe they just did all that because they were unsure if an empurata victim would’ve been socially accepted within the crew 🤔 they figured they were chill after some time but also they ended up just wanting to see how long they could last hiding Shockwave 😌 long story short I also haven’t yet made a spacecraft au design of Shockwave but I’ve had this idea in my mind for too long

Can you imagine if cybertronians shed their helm kibble every now and then like deer??

cybertronian headcanon.

They can literally produce steam when theyre mad huh?

Altmodes and sense of self

Hi there. I'm not exactly sure how to Tumblr, but hey, I have to start somewhere, haven't I?

I have recently created this guy as a bit of a proof of concept: it's possible for a cybertronian of a right size to take not a new altmode, but a different robomode. Well, it involves some Fallout, but for those that don't know -- top right is an assaultron, a relatively common enemy and sometimes ally in the series. Sorry for a messy pencil drawing, it was intended to be an inside for-roleplay thing.

Reineke has two alternate stories -- a damaged synth replacing parts with an assaultron armour or a stranded beastformer minicon. Both have a bit of an issue with what they are, but it's easier when your mask is just a mask, not your literal body parts.

Imagine being able to change your body to blend in (the existence of that blending in ability in cybertronians raises questions of their own, but of more or less ecological regard), and you change your face, too. Is that still you? You interact with other beings, trying to provide expected behaviour. Eventually this pretending becomes a second nature. Your character drifts and changes under the circumstances. Radiation can damage some circuitry and knock memories out of place. When you look into a mirror, you don't remember how you were before. Is that still the same you that took a different face some time ago?

Humans have strong connection between their "self" and their looks. New clothes might be wearing you, and I sometimes wear my favourite shirts as a little confidence boost despite nobody being able to see them under my jacket. Would that also be true for cybertronians? Would an earthen altmode affect the self-interpretation, since the root mode changes with new kibble, too?

Also, I know there is a distinction in IDW between "cold construction" (they can only assume alts similar to their natural one) and "forging" ("natural" way with an unrestricted altmode choice), but it's not true for every continuity (TFP Starscream implies that Knockout chose a grounder alt, and Skyquake's everything also implies not having wings to be an option despite being rather plane-shaped; he and Airachnid honestly imply that they didn't have an alt before, I think -- but I know that alien alts in the show would be costly). So in some continuities bots can, in theory, change alts and kibble drastically as often as they want. Would it be something frowned upon? Something "childish", what you do when you aren't sure what you want to be? How much your altmode defines *you*, and how much you would pick an alt because of who you are? Can "dramatic altmode change" be the same as human "dramatic hairstyle change" trope?

And then there are multiple alts and oddballs like Skylinx. I think they deserve a separate rant with questions.

A touching story

@creepysmlile

"Oh have you try the seekers claustrophobia? I love all the lore the fandom created for the seekers"

"Caged Sky"

The pirate vessel never stood a chance.

Megatron had ripped through it like a storm, scattering its pathetic crew to the void. The Decepticons had moved with precision, cutting down every mercenary that dared raise a weapon against them. It had been an execution, not a battle.

Because no one—absolutely no one—stole from him.

And Starscream?

They found him in a dimly lit cargo hold, curled into himself, optics dim, frame battered. He hadn’t spoken much when they pulled him out—just muttered something weakly sarcastic about Megatron taking his time. But even that had lacked its usual venom.

Megatron hadn’t dwelled on it at the time.

They had won. The Seeker was back. Everything should have gone back to normal.

Except it hadn’t.

---

Starscream refused to leave the landing pad.

At first, it had been easy to dismiss. Maybe he was just sulking, milking the situation for sympathy or attention. It was Starscream, after all.

But then a cycle passed.

Then another.

And he was still there.

Sitting on the edge, wings twitching, staring out into space.

Megatron had ignored it as long as he could.

Now, he had had enough.

---

The Nemesis was a warship, not a Seeker’s personal perch. Megatron stormed onto the landing pad, optics burning with frustration.

“Starscream,” he growled. “This ends now.”

Starscream barely turned. “Oh? What ends?”

Megatron’s patience frayed. “Your pathetic stalling. Get back inside the ship.”

Starscream shifted, still not looking at him. “I will, Megatron. I just need a little more time. The—ah—the atmospheric recalibration is—”

Megatron’s optic twitched. “Enough.”

He grabbed Starscream’s arm.

And then—

Starscream panicked.

The Seeker shrieked, thrusters kicking in as he fought, wings flaring wildly. His talons scrambled for purchase, yanking his arm away with a desperation Megatron never expected.

“Let go!” Starscream’s voice was sharp, nearly frantic.

Megatron did.

Starscream stumbled back, vents heaving, optics wide—too wide. His claws gripped his own arms, shoulders hunched. His wings trembled, betraying tension, fear.

Megatron frowned. “What is this?”

Starscream ex-vented sharply. “Nothing.”

Megatron narrowed his optics. “You—”

“I just need more time,” Starscream snapped, though his voice wavered. “That’s all.”

Megatron studied him.

The way he avoided looking at the entrance.

The way his frame coiled like a cornered animal.

The way his optics flickered—not at Megatron, but at the walls of the ship.

Understanding dawned.

“…The pirates,” Megatron said slowly, testing his theory. “They confined you.”

Starscream stiffened.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

---

Megatron dragged the truth out in fragments, each one like shattered metal pried from a wound.

The pirates had beaten him, sure. That was expected. But they hadn’t known what to do with him. He was valuable—too valuable to kill outright.

So they had caged him.

Not a brig, not a cell.

A crate.

A shipping crate, small, cold, dark.

They had folded his wings to shove him inside, forced him down, locked him in. No room to stand. No room to move. Just metal walls pressing in on all sides.

He had screamed—at first. Kicked, cursed, threatened. But no one had answered.

The air had grown stale.

His vents had struggled against the thick, unmoving atmosphere.

And for the first time in a long, long time—Starscream had believed he was going to die.

Alone. In the dark. Crushed in a box.

No sky. No escape.

Just metal, choking the life out of him.

And now?

Even Nemesis’ walls felt like a cage.

---

Megatron listened.

He said nothing.

When Starscream finished—when he finally ran out of words, voice tight and fragile—there was silence.

Then—

“…If I could,” Megatron said, voice low, dangerous, “I would kill those wretched parasites again.”

Starscream’s optics flickered toward him.

Megatron’s gaze burned.

“But this time, it would be slow. Painful.” His claws curled into a fist. “I would ensure they felt every agonizing second of their pitiful existence slipping away.”

Starscream stared at him.

Megatron met his gaze evenly.

A long moment passed.

Then, softly—softer than Megatron had ever heard from him—Starscream ex-vented.

“…I would like that.”

Megatron nodded once.

Then he turned toward the ship.

“Come,” he said, without demand or force.

For a moment, Starscream hesitated.

Then, slowly, he stepped forward.

And, step by step, he followed Megatron inside.

Galarian form: Beldum, Metang, and Metagross

When thinking of what regional form to try I looked at one of my favorite pokemon lines, metagross and Beldum reminded me of a Dalek, so here we go.

Don't forget me, too:)