Nightshade would love warrior cats

Homies

hey so does anyone else just brush their hands gently onto where their homies heart is before sacrificing themselves or is it just breakdown like...

LOOK AT THESE TWO

the thing that gets me the most about tfe bumblebee is how he actually hides stuff from the terrans and, by association, the audience

he gets asked multiple times about his altmode and he either evades the question or gives a very vague description and moves on. we don't get information out of him, so to say, but out of other characters. he had the chance to talk about it in the beginning of ep 11 but doesn't until hashtag finds his photo, they have to prompt him for it. and then later jawbreaker asks, too, but offends him. it's a touchy subject

he doesn't let people get close to him anymore. he's not as open-minded and trusting as we see him to be in different iterations, he doesn't share his struggles if he can help it. not because he's an adult, but because the war changed him (presumably). i hope we see this addressed in earthspark more, this idea is so unique for his character

still can't get over how he was in hiding for (i would guess) 15 years. it's not a lot for cybertonians, but for a social butterfly like bee (lmao sorry) it's probably been very boring and lonely. i don't think he's been communicating with autobots or other bots to not blow his cover or get tracked. this plotpoint connects with me so deeply because idw bee (my beloved traumatized victim of warcrimes and politics) had no one to talk to except starscream, of all people. i just constantly think about how he wanted comfort for years and couldn't get it no matter how much he wished

his insecurities are so subtle it's why i love his character in earthspark, i'm in general fascinated with how the show delivers plot and lore

when the earth is spark

Did a Nightshade round robin with @utane and @shapeofmetal They all turned out great!! Final pieces with colors in the cut below ^^

Secure Own Oxygen Mask

Chapter 34

It's late by the time you get back, but you decide not to wait. You head to the cassettes' room and knock on the door . . . a courtesy rather than a request, as you open the door a moment later.

Buzzsaw is perched on the railing of the top bunk, where Frenzy sits with her arms thrown around Ravage. She bites her lip when you enter, but at least she is no longer crying.

"You got reformatted tonight?" Buzzsaw glides around you, examining your new configuration.  "I thought you were just going to talk to Laserbeak."

"You look great, but couldn't it have waited?  We would have gone with you. You can't trust other Decepticons to watch your back." Ravage's tail flips back and forth. "Not like we do."

"Cassettes: superior," you acknowledge. "Other Decepticons: inferior."  (Except Megatron, but that is too obvious for words.)

Frenzy dismounts the bunk, sliding down the ladder without using the rungs.  She quietly studies your new look: the same paint job, helm barely changed, but a more angular build. But something specific has caught her attention.

"You just reformatted." Her voice is quiet and hoarse.  "And that makes bots look brand new, right? But you have a buncha little gouges."

"Cause: human firearms. Result: minor cosmetic damage."

"Like Ravage said, you shoulda brought us along!  I would've guarded you." She grabs her guitar-cum-weapon, brandishing it. Her voice is higher than usual. "Where are these dumb humans?  Just point me at 'em!"

"Humans: inconsequential," you say, firmly but gently. You appreciate this olive branch, but humans are like ant-droids. Pointless to step on a few individuals when the nest remains.  Megatron has been making plans for such operations, but they will require a concentrated military effort, not a single zealous cassette.  (And your youngest, to boot.) "Soundwave: did take backup.  Soundwave: made some changes."

"We can see that . . ." Frenzy mutters, shoulders slumping.

"Changes: to designs." You catch yourself reaching up for a button that no longer exists; instead you activate the button in your mind.  Your chestplate hinges outward and open. "Laserbeak: eject."

Laserbeak launches out and transforms, cackling. "Surprise!"

Ravage's jaw drops, as does Buzzsaw's.

"Soundwave!" she bursts out.  "After all that business with the blueprints!  Were you pranking us?"

You are a stoic sort, but you give a staticy chuckle. Later you will give Shockwave the credit he is due for his contributions.  But for now all that matters is the big smile on Frenzy's face.

so is anyone still holding out hope that mr. smelt is knockout’s secret holoform, or did we all collectively give up on that the second we laid eyes on him

Starscream! 👑

Secure Own Oxygen Mask

Chapter 27

A cold night wind whips around you.  Laserbeak sits at the edge of the roof, gazing at the desert below.  The black needles rising from the ground are made sharper by moonlight.

They could almost be mistaken for Cybertronian structures, those bristling metal spires, but they are the work of humans.  Words are sunk into their gleaming facets, the same warning repeated in many of their tongues.

This is not a place of honor. No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here. Nothing is valued here.  

What is here is dangerous and repulsive to us.  This is message is a warning about danger.

The danger is in an emanation of energy.  The danger is to the body, and it can kill.

The danger is in a particular location. It increases towards a center.

Megatron was a poet. So he had the Constructicons build the Decepticon base in the thickest tangle of spires, the ones that read: The center of the danger is here.

The "emanation of energy" was nothing so useful as energon– merely human leavings–but this land has a lively warmth to it, a pleasant tingle.  And humans fear to tread it, fear to bomb it.

A peaceful place.

You sit beside your charge.

"Laserbeak . . ." What to say?  "Status?"

He sends you his vitals without comment;  you rephrase the question.

"Query: Laserbeak unhappy?"

"No . . .  Remembering." Like you, his face is fixed,, his beak always tilted in a smile.  "Spying, synchronizing . . . Felt nice, felt safe. First time, feeling that."

"Laserbeak: still safe," you insist.  "All cassettes: safe."

He flaps his wings and alights your shoulder. You catch his nod.

You try to shake the feeling that he is avoiding your gaze.  

"Frenzy: upset, agitated." Though these words are insufficient, they are all you can offer. "Frenzy said . . . Soundwave is taking Soundwave from her."

"Frenzy: has never been alone." Laserbeak sidles close and rests his head atop yours. "Not really alone, though.  Frenzy: will get used to it."

"And Laserbeak?"

"Can return to it.  Will be fine."

You gaze out at the barren hills.  In the gleaming moonlight, you could almost believe they are steel.  That you are home.

You think back to the tiny E Class mech with the ugly green and pink paint job.  Since then, Laserbeak has changed every physical attribute.  But one aspect has stayed consistent in function, if not form.

You press the button just above your cassette bay and the transparent door swings open.  "Laserbeak: return."

Don’t worry, guys. His ethics scale is off the charts.

*scottish voice* is this figurine an appropriate representation of my might? Why are you laughing. My cannon is not this big

Secure Own Oxygen Mask

Chapter 26

The former servant bot traded his ugly, livery colors for a new paint job of black and red.  But it took him a long time to choose a name.  When he finally did, it came with a new alt mode.

Buzzsaw was less than pleased.  "Are you copying me?"

The newly christened Laserbeak landed on your shoulder and cackled.

nightshade on the brain 25/7

ignore that its 4 am no its not