#original continuity

[xoddballx]

funny lil ratchet and pharma comic :]

[coletown]

heavy - street play

[sabrondabrainrot]

TF Big Bang part 2

🌌🩵💟🖤🌌

Here's my second entry! I was so happy to work with another author @spacebagfullofstars here and chaotic_thoughts on AO3 (Their socials are also art made by Chao).

@tf-bigbang Here's my other entry! It was nice to pinch hit for such a funny fic. It's a joy to read!

(please click the image for better resolution)

Read the fic here!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Here's some page break art I made for this fic too!

🎉🎉Let's go Team 68 🎉🎉

flats below!

I always like to see the flat colors of a piece.

[silverjackal2009]

Elita one (Quintus Universe)

I wanted her to be more reddish while Arcee is more pink :3

[fandomtrashfox]

-Transformers: Baby Mine-

Word Count: 1,458 words Fandom: Transformers - Original Continuity (No name yet) Genre: Whump, Hurt no comfort Possible Triggers: Coercion, Slavery, Minor body horror, Childbirth(?), Pregnancy(?), Kidnapping(?), and forceful Child/Parent separation. Characters featured: D-16/Megatron - Congratulations, it's a boy! D-16's Sparkling/??? - Not an OC, try to guess who it is! :D D-16's Master/The Quintesson - The shitlord Sky Byte - Mr "I'm about to cause problems on purpose" Synopsis: Before D-16 met Orion, became Megatron, and rebelled against the enslavement of the Cybertronians, D-16 was manipulated by his master into creating a sparkling. Though hating it at first, D-16 couldn't help but get attached, only to have his sparkling ripped away from him. Note: This fic is kinda headcanon-heavy for how I headcanon sparklings to work. D-16's situation is pretty standard for how it goes, although he kept the baby in his chassis longer than most usually would. (Because if they kept them in too long, the baby might accidentally kill them.)

"You wanted to see me?" D-16 asked as he stepped into the room. The screens and blinking lights of his master's chambers filled each corner with darkness, which obscured detail and made monsters of shadows. There was a long pause of silence; the tendrils of D-16's master went still, and D-16 sighed as he realized why. "…You wanted to see me, Master?"

The Quintesson turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "Come here." It said, a tendril curled to point at the spot beside its wriggling mass of a form. D-16 moved before he could think, stood tall and at attention beside his master like the loyal dog he was. "I have something I want to discuss with you."

The quintesson's tendrils slithered over the keys of the computer, sharp digits tapped too fast for D-16 to track, until the computer's screen lit up with a pre-recorded video.

D-16 himself in the fighting pit, the head of his greatest gladiatorial rival in his servo, a scream bellowed from his throat into the sky as quintessons and cybertronians alike in the stands cheered for him.

"You have been far more successful in the pits than any slave I've owned before." D-16's master began, as a few more key clicks pulled more clips of D-16's triumphs. "You're superior to most, and I want more like you."

D-16's brow furrowed. "Sir?" His voice wavered as his optics turned to his master, who was now staring far too intently at him.

The quintesson's tendril raised, but stopped just shy of D-16's faceplate. "You have superior genes, son." His voice hissed despite the sickly sweet tone he used. "I want more of you, and you are going to help me achieve that."

"Y-you aren't suggesting cloning…" D-16 whispered as he took a step back.

"No," the quintesson rolled his eyes. "Of course not; clones are always sickly, weak, and useless things." Its voice hissed like spilt acid at the thought. "No, you're going to make another, with this."

D-16's master held out a tendril, the claw clutched a piece of metal that D-16 recognized. "A reproduction chip?" Then it clicked for him. "Sir, y-you can't-"

"I spent far too many credits on the chip of another powerful bot for you to say 'no'." His master shoved the chip into D-16's servos.

D-16 stared down at the chip in silence - a small piece of metal, waiting to be joined with another reproductive chip and incubated inside a spark chamber.

A small growl escaped the quintesson's throat, but a smile replaced its deep scowl. "How about this?" As the quintesson circled behind D-16 with curled and slithering tendrils, it leaned in and whispered, "I won't send you to the pit until the sparkling is grown, if you do this."

D-16's expression shifted, and his optics darted from the chip to the floor. "…Really?" No answer came, but would it matter if it had?

After a few moments, D-16's chassis clicked open wide for him to reach in. D-16 didn't need a guide or a glance, as his instincts already knew where to find it; a chunk of metal like a puzzle piece, which unlatched far too easily with a simple tug.

As D-16 pulled it out, his optics softened a little; two pieces, like a plug and a socket. Was it right to bring a sparkling into quintesson slavery?

"What are you waiting for?" His master whispered into his audio receptors. "Do you want to be sent into the pit tomorrow?"

D-16 let out a huff, gritted his denta, and after a moment of hesitation, pushed his servos together, plugged the two reproductive chips, and locked them together with a twist that let out a click like a cocking gun to his head. D-16 reached back into his chassis and set the active chip inside, and his chassis swung shut with the finality of a morgue door.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

D-16 forced himself forward, his legs thundered with each step as he searched for an empty room. He could feel the little thing squirm in his chassis, ready to come out as it already scratched at his interior. Its little claws were more painful than D-16 thought they'd be, but he couldn't let that deter him from his task; if he had to deal with this, he wanted to do it somewhere safe.

Cameras were everywhere, sharkticons waddled down the halls, but after an hour of searching, D-16 finally found it. A storage room with nothing of note inside; no prying eyes, no guards, no master.

D-16 snuck inside as quietly as possible, his jaw clenched as he felt a sharp digit scrape against the metal dangerously close to his spark. He had to bite back the urge to yelp at the sensation as he sealed the door shut behind him, and nearly collapsed against a giant metal container full of energon. "Stop squirming!" D-16 barked, half-tempted to rip open his chassis and yank it out.

He took a deep breath, then let his chassis unlatch and open. The newly formed, thick membrane of sticky blue energon greeted him, already partially torn by the sparkling's incessant clawing.

The moment fresh air filled his chassis, a squeak escaped his interior, and the little beast's scratching and squirming grew more erratic. D-16 had to grab his own throat and squeeze just to keep from screaming out in pain as the claws ripped through the membrane and wire that had grown over his chassis interior. Wire and membrane ripped away and devoured by the little parasite that D-16 wanted to throw across the room for putting him in such pain. Energon dripped and spilled across his body and onto the floor; D-16 almost felt like he'd bleed out, and it just wouldn't end fast enough.

Then it stopped.

D-16's breathing came ragged and labored as he felt the pain ebb and gradually subside. Burning hatred rumbled in his spark for the parasite that inflicted such pain on him. His helm snapped upward, ready to squeeze the life out of the little insect, but when his optics finally settled on it, he froze.

Round, small, made of soft living rubber and barely any hard metal. The little creature was so tiny and helpless; how could it possibly be responsible for all the pain he felt? As D-16's chassis shut, he barely felt the membrane and wire caught in the door, focused on the tiny piece of him that stared back.

His servos were already around it before he could think twice, and he held the beastie against his warm, rumbling chassis. The sparkling's mouth opened with a tiny yawn as it rubbed its head with a claw and curled against him.

D-16 stared, mouth agape as words failed to come. Its wide optics so perfectly mirrored D-16's, down to their rose-red color.

"I thought you'd be uglier." D-16 muttered with a chuckle, and his sparkling only blinked in reply. "But… I guess you are mine."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

D-16 threw himself forward with a loud roar, the blade in one arm extended but barely missed the Quintesson. "Let him go!" The proud warrior bellowed as he dodged his master's initial strike. His instincts boiled the energon in his veins as his sparkling's squeals of fear filled him with white-hot rage.

"How long have you kept this from me?!" The quintesson's tendrils surged, one sliced in two by D-16's blade. His master winced, and like a predator scenting weakness, D-16 lunged.

Crash! Just as D-16 was about to make impact, there he was. "Stand down." D-16 struggled and writhed under the leg that held him down, his helm twisted aside to stare up at Sky Byte. "Dinner is right around the corner, you know, and I'd hate to spoil my appetite." The sharkticon's glossa licked over his sharp denta as a drip of lubricant-saliva spilled to land on D-16's face.

Before D-16 could speak, his Master's tendril grabbed his faceplate and yanked him to stare into his eyes. "Answer me, you ungrateful pile of scrap! How long has it been since your sparkling emerged?!" D-16 clenched his jaw, and with a growl, surged to bite down on his master's tendril.

Not a moment later, with a hard swing, his master launched D-16 across the room, and his body collided with the screen of his master's computer. In mere moments, he felt the pain of shattered glass, then wires as they fired electricity through his metal. D-16's screams joined those of his sparkling; squeaking and squealing as they ripped his child away from him.

When the loud pop of electricity that plunged the tower into darkness finally released D-16, he had only seconds before he hit the ground, unconscious.

In those few seconds, D-16 realized he'd failed.

[silvr-skreen]

"what if we were coworkers and also both cars"

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic - "End Of All Things"

Originally posted on November 22nd, 2012

Story, Art - Damien P. Ghela

deviantART

wada sez: The “Crown of Cybertron” appears to be an artefact invented for this story. On deviantART, Ghela explained: “End of all things was my idea for something I've never seen in a TF comic. Originally meant for TF mosaic before it closed, I wanted to do an A3 spread but had to limit the concept, hence, while I am pleased with it, I wanted it to be "bigger".” A few months later, he released a piece of art in a similar vein, mirrored below, which he explained as follows: “In this world, the Transformers and humankind are nomads that have abandoned their planets some 3,000 years ago. Two friends [now] journey back to see what became of the Earth and Cybertron. They were not prepared for what they found…”

[heddnotmunky]

TF Big Bang Preview

After several months, its finally ready! I'm happy to announce that I have completed my Big Bang fic (part of the CWA Universe) for the 2025 TF Big Bang, and with it, I have a snippet from Chapter 1 to share.

Big thanks to @ring-rong-rang-rung for BETA-ing my work and to @in-the-airducts for drawing the two pieces of artwork inspired by my fic. Hope y'all enjoy!

***

THE ROAD TO HELL:

Summary: They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions… When Officers Chromia of Caminus Caminus and Ironhide of Hydraxus Plateau Cybertron of the Iacon Police Department respond to a repeat domestic abuser call, they decide to take matters into their own hands and ensure she never hurts her family ever again.

If only covering it up was that simple. And if only they didn’t decide to drag their friend Detective Prowl of Petrex Cybertron into this mess…

CHAPTER 1 - PREMEDITATED OUTCOME:

Iacon, Cybertron was a peaceful city for the most part. Compared to its sister city Kaon, it was more controlled and less rowdy, but it didn’t stop crime from happening within its streets. Whenever that happened it was the duty of the Iacon Police Department to send officers to respond to a call; all with varying reasons and wildly varying outcomes. Within its sprawling and intertwining roads and tall buildings, there was a police van roaring across the street in the dead of night while heading over to a distressed caller. The reason for the call was grim, and if not for the responding officers the outcome would be graphic.

Both Ironhide and Chromia raced down the streets in their department issued black and white patrol van. Chromia took the wheel while Ironhide sat in the passenger’s seat typing away at a keyboard mounted to a datapad hooked up inside the vehicle; both held a steely gaze in their optics. Both wore belts containing their holster for their service pistol, a stun baton, two cans of irritant spray, several sets of cuffs, and a radio on top of their usual armor. A strap ran from the right side of the belt up to their left shoulder, and a radio mic was placed on the part of the strap that lay on the shoulder. The cable for the mic ran down the back to connect directly to the radio, tied to the strap itself with metal brackets. They said nothing while in the car, yet the bond in their sparks did all the talking that was needed.

This is the ninth, maybe tenth time we’ve had to go to the residence, Ironhide. And she still hasn’t pressed charges yet. It’s a tragedy. We tried everything and the poor girl still thinks she has to rely on that fragger. How many more calls do you think she’ll make?

At this rate, maybe one or two more before she gets pounded into gunmetal gray by that glitch of a girlfriend.

Poor kid’ll have to grow up with her if his carrier dies, assuming she doesn’t decide to kill him as well… A double murder is the last thing we want Chromia. And that kid’s the same age as our Arcee.

I already know ‘Hide. We all know she’ll escalate. She’s been escalating and it's gonna happen soon. Yeah, I know ‘Mia. And we’ll make sure it’ll never happen. Either she swings at us and goes away forever - or we do it ourselves. You’re right, it won’t. And because of us that femme and her sparkling will have a future.

The van continued to race across the highways until it hit a road that began to lead to a series of tall towers with windows, doors, and balconies. The only sound that could be heard by the two was the hum of the van engine, the muted venting of gas and air by the officers, and the sudden blurring of a staticy female voice coming through the radio.

“Dispatch to Officer Ironhide and Chromia - what is your status? Over.”

“We’re gettin’ close to the call. ETA is about 1 cycle.” Ironhide pressed down on a tab placed in a small metal box near his left shoulder, speaking into it while Chromia continued to drive.

“Copy. Caller is still barricaded in a closet with her son, the suspect is still kicking at the door. Caller has confirmed the door is locked.”

“Understood. We’ll handle the situation from here.” Chromia said, taking one servo off of the wheel to perform the same motion as her sparkmate. The conversation taking place between their bond still continued.

Like we discussed: grab the arms, make a struggle. Pin the wrists and shoulders so she can’t actually attack us. She “moves” an arm towards your gun or my gun…

And we then light the slagger up. Make sure it looks natural too.

The pair continued to drive to their location - with a far more devious purpose than what the Iacon Police Department had in mind. The repeat offender living in the apartment would face more than just the usual struggling against officers hauling her to jail. And those two cops in the van would make sure of that.

Don’t worry miss. We’re not dragging her to the station anytime soon… You’re right - we won't. It’s not like anyone will look out for a scumbag that hurts her girlfriend and her child…