✨CloudStrike✨

22✨- Ask CloudStrike- If you're a child go AWAY ISTG 😭 ✨PFP by @pauk-di✨ Insta is @stained_soot

[stained-soot]

✨ Ask CloudStrike ✨

||Rules Masterpost||

General Rules:

-This blog may contain both descriptions of gore and suggestive themes. Not only that, but sometimes drawn as well. Minors DNI 🔞

-Please be respectful to the Mun. I'm only human, I'll make mistakes.

-I like to think I'm decently literate, I can easily write 10 paragraphs or more, it really depends on what you give me to work with.

-All continuities and rp blogs are welcome, in special cases I will create a timeline to fit your specific universe. (Take @/your-local-tyrant for example.)

-If I'm feeling up to it sometimes I'll even draw an interaction.

-I don't mind reminders if you feel I've forgotten to reply, but please don't make a point to pester me. It's considered rude.

-I don't have any triggers, but if you somehow manage to remind me of one, I will let you know immediately.

-Remember, the Muse is NOT the Mun!

-And most importantly, have fun. :)

Navigation and Muse Info:

-I have three muses, but the primary one is CloudStrike, my seeker tfoc.

-If the text is [in brackets] that's the mun speaking.

-If the text is orange, that's CloudStrike speaking.

- If the text is Green, that's SwiftShot speaking. (That's CloudStrike's minicon companion. His alt is a machine gun/turret.)

- If the text is blue, that's SceneTrip speaking. (He's a neutral bartender with a car alt.)

-The continuity fluctuates freely here, so don't expect too much structure. We're here to have fun after all.

[stained-soot]

Okay so the others aren't done yet but here enjoy early access to swift-dust ref

All have bin sketched 2 have bin rendered and 4 to go not counting dusty here

[FUCK YEAHHHH RAHHHHHHH]

[Now I can finish up the lil headshot wip I sent ya]

[supreme-lord-of-the-universe]

||'You told me it was a scratch, THIS IS NOT A SLAGGING SCRATCH-'||

` * 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 : a mix of dialogue and action prompts. sent "+ reverse" to reverse the roles.

Megatron had absolutely no excuses for this reaction because he had brought it on himself. He had completely underemphasized his injuries, and what was supposed to be 'a scratch' turned out to be most of his arm hanging on by a singular wire.

Yeah. He was not having the best day-

"Don't come after me with that tone! There have been plenty of times when you have exaggerated your injuries as well!"

[stained-soot]

"We BOTH know that ISN'T A FAIR COMPARISON YOU RUSTED DOLT!!" CloudStrike shrieked, trying to reattach at least something but it clearly wasn't working. Everything was slick with energon and most of Megatron's shoulder was crushed. They'd already commed for aid but dealing with a complete fool of a commander (that he begrudgingly cared very dearly for) was hiking his anxiety. "MY spark CAN'T GO OUT, I CAN'T SAY THE SAME FOR YOU!"

[supreme-lord-of-the-universe]

Starter for @stained-soot

First meeting

Megatron had received a very faint minicon signal on one of the monitors and found it odd. He wondered why it was so weak compared to the others they had received. He got the coordinates to the location and headed for the warp. He put in those coordinates and activated the teleporter before heading down to the nearby planet Earth. He didn't wait for anyone this time because it was very unlikely that the Autobots would notice such a faint signal. As long as he was quick there shouldn't be any problems.

The coordinates brought the warlord to a wide open plain far away from civilization. There was nothing but hills and tall grass here aside from distant mountains. A cool breeze blew past him and he began to look around, the unexpected sight almost baffling him with its serenity. He was alone, so he could do as he pleased. He chose to look around for a minute or two before moving on.

He walked for a while, before noticing something at the top of a hill. It looked like another bot, but they weren't moving. The sight caught his interest and he decided to approach the figure, noticing that it was a seeker as he got closer, or so he thought. The figure was heavily covered with debris and shards, making it look almost like a statue. The warlord studied the figure curiously. He had not seen a seeker with this physique before. They were a lot slimmer than the models he had mass-produced for the war.

He tilted his helm and looked down, seeing a small bot in his arms that looked just as bad. Was this the signal he had picked up earlier?

He slowly reached out a servo to touch the smaller bot-

[stained-soot]

It was quiet.

It had been quiet for quite some time.

He was barely aware, drifting between the conscious realm and the unconscious in no discernable pattern. His entire world had narrowed down to the faint rustle of wind tossled grass and the minicon secure in his arms. When he was aware enough, sometimes he thought back to what landed them in this predicament. What forced him into stasis as he used his full energy to keep SwiftShot online.

He wasn't mortal like SwiftShot was. Swift was vulnerable, fragile. A spark easily snuffed. He couldn't lose another mech so soon. He refused to.

Swift had been shot, a plasma rifle had ripped through his delicate circuitry and left him barely hanging on; and CloudStrike had no choice but to retreat, multiple sonic booms left in his wake. These serene plains were as safe a place as he was going to find with such little time he could spare, and without a second thought he knelt and cradled Swift as he used all of his energy to keep Swift's spark tied to his mortal frame.

Without his intervention SwiftShot would already be in the well, he knew that; and he stubbornly refused Primus' right to his creation's spark. It was selfish, blasphemous, but he was in no state to care; his relationship with Primus already as strained as it could possibly be at this point.

He wouldn't let go. He refused to.

So the vorns went by, the constant thrum of energy emanating off of him slowly crystalizing as organic plant life grew around his struts and pedes locking him in a strange embrace.

It didn't matter that it was a fool's errand. Didn't matter that no one with the medic knowledge necessary to save his minicon would in all likelihood never arrive.

So he waited.

Until something changed.

There was another spark signature, appearing with sudden CRACK of energy that brought CloudStrike into awareness. He didn't open his optics, the crystals would have made that annoying at best.

So he listened.

Large pedesteps, with the occasional grunt at the stranger approached. A shadow fell over him, silence returning once more. Then like the sear of a brand a digit touched SwiftShot.

It was a mere moment before Cloud moved.

Crystals cracked and shattered along his frame with the movement of his left arm, a plasma sword ripping the wind as he swiped at the intruder. He dared not move further, Swift still his priority. His optics snapped open, red light spilling onto a long serene faceplate.

There was a warrior in front of him, currently fallen on his aft after a narrow miss with his blade. Said blade quickly fizzled out, his exhaustion smothering his instinct to protect.

His vocalizer cracked and fizzled as it was activated for the first time in a very, very long while.

Static laced every glyph.

"$t4te y0u-r p-pu/p0se."

[supreme-lord-of-the-universe]

The warlord slowly moved his servo closer to the small bot who was cradled in the strange seeker's arms, seeming almost hesitant. It was strange. Normally if he were given an opportunity like this he'd snatch up his prize right then and there, but something just didn't sit right with him...

The seeker seemed to be completely frozen in time, the specific pose along with the odd crystals locking up their systems looked almost haunting as they protruded from the others' plating. It didn't help that as he got closer, he could feel a strange weak energy emitting from them. They still felt... alive somehow...

The air grew unsettling, but it was already too late. With a brush of his digit, he heard a loud cracking noise pierce through the silence. It seemed to happen in an instant, a sudden swipe of a blade and the warlord fell back right square on his aft. A loud grunt followed by a growl escaped him as his butt made impact with the hard ground. At first, he was uncertain of what had happened until he caught a glimpse of the blade fizzling out. He was shocked, to say the least. Perhaps he should've listened to that slight nagging feeling in his tanks, but once again, his greed got the better of him as it always seemed to do.

However, things would work out in the warlord's favor. The seeker was weak and low on energy so he wasn't able to use his weapons properly. Attacking wasn't an option, which was for the better because the seeker looked like he could easily outspeed him in a fight. Maybe he could sway the other on his side.

With another grunt, he got to his pedes and stood up straight, now formally addressing the other.

"I am Megatron, leader of the Decepticons and I am here because my scanners picked up a faint signal which brought me here to you."

[stained-soot]

There was a stuttering clicking as CloudStrike attempted to reset his vocalizer.

Decepticon. Interesting.

He'd heard of them, of course; but he never anticipated the leader would traipse around some distant backwater planet. Weren't they too busy trying to gain a foothold on Cybertron? The warrior was huge, stocky with an intimidating air but a confusion about him.

His thoughts were wandering. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

"I am CloudStrike." He hesitated.

"I require your.. assistance." He gritted out, suspicious of this 'Megatron's' intentions. He swallowed his gripes, SwiftShot needed a medic. He could not keep him in limbo forever.

"Do you have access to a medic? I'm certain we can come to some sort of mutual agreement." His grip tightened minutely on SwiftShot, right servo splintering small crystals with its movement. This was dangerous, clearly Megatron had the upper hand, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He wanted.

He needed.

[stained-soot]

[I wanna write. I wanna DRAW. BUT TRADE SCHOOL IS KICKING MY ASS.]

[supreme-lord-of-the-universe]

Starter for @stained-soot

First meeting

Megatron had received a very faint minicon signal on one of the monitors and found it odd. He wondered why it was so weak compared to the others they had received. He got the coordinates to the location and headed for the warp. He put in those coordinates and activated the teleporter before heading down to the nearby planet Earth. He didn't wait for anyone this time because it was very unlikely that the Autobots would notice such a faint signal. As long as he was quick there shouldn't be any problems.

The coordinates brought the warlord to a wide open plain far away from civilization. There was nothing but hills and tall grass here aside from distant mountains. A cool breeze blew past him and he began to look around, the unexpected sight almost baffling him with its serenity. He was alone, so he could do as he pleased. He chose to look around for a minute or two before moving on.

He walked for a while, before noticing something at the top of a hill. It looked like another bot, but they weren't moving. The sight caught his interest and he decided to approach the figure, noticing that it was a seeker as he got closer, or so he thought. The figure was heavily covered with debris and shards, making it look almost like a statue. The warlord studied the figure curiously. He had not seen a seeker with this physique before. They were a lot slimmer than the models he had mass-produced for the war.

He tilted his helm and looked down, seeing a small bot in his arms that looked just as bad. Was this the signal he had picked up earlier?

He slowly reached out a servo to touch the smaller bot-

[stained-soot]

It was quiet.

It had been quiet for quite some time.

He was barely aware, drifting between the conscious realm and the unconscious in no discernable pattern. His entire world had narrowed down to the faint rustle of wind tossled grass and the minicon secure in his arms. When he was aware enough, sometimes he thought back to what landed them in this predicament. What forced him into stasis as he used his full energy to keep SwiftShot online.

He wasn't mortal like SwiftShot was. Swift was vulnerable, fragile. A spark easily snuffed. He couldn't lose another mech so soon. He refused to.

Swift had been shot, a plasma rifle had ripped through his delicate circuitry and left him barely hanging on; and CloudStrike had no choice but to retreat, multiple sonic booms left in his wake. These serene plains were as safe a place as he was going to find with such little time he could spare, and without a second thought he knelt and cradled Swift as he used all of his energy to keep Swift's spark tied to his mortal frame.

Without his intervention SwiftShot would already be in the well, he knew that; and he stubbornly refused Primus' right to his creation's spark. It was selfish, blasphemous, but he was in no state to care; his relationship with Primus already as strained as it could possibly be at this point.

He wouldn't let go. He refused to.

So the vorns went by, the constant thrum of energy emanating off of him slowly crystalizing as organic plant life grew around his struts and pedes locking him in a strange embrace.

It didn't matter that it was a fool's errand. Didn't matter that no one with the medic knowledge necessary to save his minicon would in all likelihood never arrive.

So he waited.

Until something changed.

There was another spark signature, appearing with sudden CRACK of energy that brought CloudStrike into awareness. He didn't open his optics, the crystals would have made that annoying at best.

So he listened.

Large pedesteps, with the occasional grunt at the stranger approached. A shadow fell over him, silence returning once more. Then like the sear of a brand a digit touched SwiftShot.

It was a mere moment before Cloud moved.

Crystals cracked and shattered along his frame with the movement of his left arm, a plasma sword ripping the wind as he swiped at the intruder. He dared not move further, Swift still his priority. His optics snapped open, red light spilling onto a long serene faceplate.

There was a warrior in front of him, currently fallen on his aft after a narrow miss with his blade. Said blade quickly fizzled out, his exhaustion smothering his instinct to protect.

His vocalizer cracked and fizzled as it was activated for the first time in a very, very long while.

Static laced every glyph.

"$t4te y0u-r p-pu/p0se."

[seacrestseacon]

Your Most Beautiful Feature

Tagging: @cruel-singer @springingfromnothing @your-local-tyrant @cybertr0nian (for Dee) @photobombingcryptid @multiversalechoes (Swindle) @quantumlogician (for Star)

[your-local-tyrant]

Most beautiful feature

"This website is broken!"

@the-blue-truck @stained-soot @coetusmachina

[stained-soot]

"HAHAHAHA- "

[the-blue-truck]

[Was about to fall asleep at 1 am when I shot up in a cold sweat and coughed this up. I hit him with my stylization beam.. he got the same treatment as Armada..]

(Eeeee!!)

(Oh my God, he looks so cool in your artstyle! I loved how you drew his optics! So expressive! 😍)

(This is probably how he would face a hater, hehe! "I'm tired of all this. I'm leaving".)

(Thank you so much for this, really!! I love this so much!!! 💙💙💙)

[stained-soot]

[Do y'all want dash commentary from this blog?]

Dash Commentary?

Yuh. GIVE ME MORE CONTENT

Nah. I won't read it

Voting ended onSep 17, 2025

[death-is-upon-you]

|| Incoming Transmission ||

{Source: Unknown}

Initializing..

"The 'great' Lord Megatron.. might someone dare to assume one as infamous as yourself may have a favorite energon treat?"

He stares at the monitor, listening to the transmission with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hunf. Bold of you to assume I'm infamous. At least I have the courage to speak face to face instead of sending an unknow and nameless transmission."

He grumbles in annoyance, then answers the question.

"But to satisfy your curiosity, yes. I do have my favorite Energon treat. Most of the time I tend to drink a good and refined oil, but to feast on the Energon spilled from my enemies..."

He chuckles darkly.

"I won't deny that it brings a satisfaction to my spark."

He pauses, debating whether he should say more. After a moment, he speaks again.

"I also tend to like Energon in... different situations. However, I won't explain to you in details. If you're eager to find out, heh..."

"Then you have to prove me that you're worthy of my attention."

[stained-soot]

📔 (For CloudStrike :3)

@the-blue-truck

CloudStrike lounged on his berth, fussing with a glitchy datapad with more then a few scratches on its surface. He grumbled, resigning to get a new one before he threw the poor thing at the nearest wall. Servos were readjusted as he began to type..

__________________________________________________

[Log: ######]

[Date: ###/##/##]

[Subject: Prime]

Optimus Prime, the glorified leader of the Autobot Resistance; How to even begin? In all of my deaths I have never met someone so annoyingly optimistic yet frustratingly stubborn. It astounds me that this one mech, who has seen the front lines for vorns upon vorns; still has quippy comebacks AND hobbies. It's ridiculous, how does he appear so unaffected?

In all of my existence I've found things to be mundane, unoriginal. Most every mech I've met seemed to be easily placed into any one category. Then there were the outliers..

First there was Megatron, which I will touch upon later, and then there was the truck with a clashing paint job and the matrix. I didn't always want to participate in this meaningless war, but in the end boredom dug it's rusty claws into my helm. Megatron, with all his atrocities, just seemed the most.. entertaining. Reminded me that I still functioned. But Optimus.. he makes me so.

Slagging.

Angry.

He reminds me of what I could have been. Should have been. Still could be.

Hopeful in the meaningless of it all. Caring about mechs I'll outlast. Just for the sake of them being... well. Alive.

[End Log]

__________________________________________________

CloudStrike tossed the datapad aside, hearing it scrape gently as it tumbled onto the floor. Now was not the time to be sentimental. He had things to do.

[rpclefairy]

send “📔” to read an entry from my muse’s diary about your muse

[stained-soot]

[You can ask CloudStrike, SceneTrip, or SwiftShot! I can't guarantee they'll be in the same universe but I will write it out nonetheless.]

[your-local-tyrant]

📂 + 211

[Good luck, CloudStrike.]

send me  ‘  📁 + a number  ‘   and that numbered icon in my folder is my muse’s reaction to yours asking them on a date.  

The tyrant is very eager for that date

[stained-soot]

Hhmmm...

What would happen to CloudStrike if he is on a mission and get lost? Or if he fails the mission?

[In Cloudstrike's original universe, he's a neutral mercenary with a hatred for both sides of the war. He has a scrounged together trine that will always be there for him, much to his confusion. If he was to get stranded or attacked by his target (as my last post displayed) he'd call his trine.

Now, in Armada's universe, it's a different story. He never met his trine members, and he certainly didn't become neutral. He's a decepticon, one that's encountered Armada himself throughout some of his deaths, and things are a little more complicated. CloudStrike will not stop until he is a greying corpse if it means completing the mission. He knows he'll simply be rejected by the well and dumped in a newly created frame. If he's stranded or lost, and let's say his comms are damaged, Armada will eventually get notified that one of his generals is MIA and deal with it from there.

Hope that answers your questions ✨✨]

[stained-soot]

Hello! Hope you're doing alright! :3

I'm guessing it was you who sent the ask to my side blog, right? To the blue-truck.

I apologize, but I accidentaly typed the wrong button. Instead of editing the post, I erased it. I'm really sorry for this, btw! 😥

Would you mind sending your ask again, please? I promise to be careful, now. The text is ready to post it, btw. Again, I'm really sorry!

[LMAO, NO WORRIES!! Things on Tumblr are disturbingly easy to delete, I shall remedy this swiftly ✨]

[Some kitty CloudStrike for these trying times.]

[stained-soot]

How would cloudstrile react to losing his wings?

||Combat Log: Second Cycle since contact with target.||

[Playing requested memory files:]

The target had caught on quick. On first glance he's just some poor slaghead who borrowed shanix from the wrong guy, but the mech had actual combat training.

"This was supposed to be a simple job." CloudStrike growled, jet engine screaming as he sliced through the atmosphere. "Slagger has tracking missiles.."

He transformed midair, free-falling as he sliced through then with his blades; quickly returning to alt-mode. His frame wasn't exactly durable, this frame was made for speed after all. With a sonic crack he sped up several Gs, approaching the grounder at a devastating speed before flipping back into root mode and skewering the mech in a blur. His landing was seamless, using his thrusters to counteract his momentum, looking back at the mech.

WARNING: GORE

CRUNCH

CloudStrike screamed in agony, a large bleeding servo ripping his wing off with such vitriol that the viscera flew several feet. "HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE??" He was sloppy, frantic as his second wing was crushed; blades singing in the air before making contact with a helm. Reinforced frame with a mix of skewed aim had allowed the slagger to live for a counterattack.

The target fell with an unceremonious thud, frame graying as he bled into the dust of the foreign planet.

CloudStrike just stood for a second, shaking.

He wanted to purge.

It's not like he's never experienced this, he's lived millions of lives at this point; but it never got easier.

The phantom pain. The sudden realization of being grounded. He fell to his knees and just held himself, clawing at his back fitfully.

"Never again."

[End of file.]

[your-local-tyrant]

❣

[CloudStrike shows affection in a non-public setting.]

Send ❣ to give my muse a soft hug. no words needed.

The tyrant arrived at deception headquarters to see how things were going. It had been a while since he was last here, so it was only natural for him to catch up with one of his favorite seekers during his visit. The tyrant called the blue seeker up to his personal quarters so the two could have some privacy and they'd talk over glasses of high-grade, oil and energon goodies.

The two would sit beside each other at the end of the berth and the tyrant felt content and at ease with his most trusted general at his side. Armada finished off his drink and set it aside as the smaller seeker came in to hug him for cuddles. The two were alone, so he didn't have to worry about his reputation being ruined and he had known the seeker for a long time, so Armada was comfortable showing off his more vulnerable side to him. It was a side to him that not many got to see, but it was a special treat for those who did experience it.

Armada allowed the show of affection and wrapped his large arm around the seeker's chassis, pulling him in closer. He felt the seeker's warmth against him and it gave him a sense of security. He looked down at the other and smiled before placing a gentle kiss on Cloud's forehelm. The tyrant's engine also began to hum and purr at the feeling, showing he was satisfied and happy