#paragon transformers

[thestitchesarchive]

sooo i'm back from playing minecraft for 4 days straight and realizing i haven't put out any gay shit for PRIDE MONTH is criminal. well here's your gay propaganda. i've missed these goobers so dearly.

[thestitchesarchive]

Transformers Starheart: Paragon

Here’s Paragon, a Luminous Blue Variable and Cyclonus’s escort to the center of the galaxy!

Paragon is a member of the Sparkling Blues, a band of blue giant stars dedicated to the protection of stellar nurseries within the Iacon Spiral. He meets Cyclonus when he had to save the mech from the death clutches of a rogue band of singularities. Noble-hearted and protective, he wants nothing more to understand why the balance of their galaxy has destabilized, and wants to be part of the fix. And if it means going to the center of the galaxy to confront the Quasar, so be it.

Like many others of his kind, his main weapon of choice is melee, and he excels at slicing stars open; however the accrual of such large amounts of mass leave him prone to energetic outbursts and a less than easy time of controlling his own power. As such, he’s quite happy to share some fuel with a fellow neutron star or two, just as long as they don’t get too grabby.

[thestitchesarchive]

A little doodol of my ghostly choir holoforms/humansonas, from top to bottom, left to right: Cyclonus, Paragon, Gridlock, Highfire, Provoke, and Grudge respectively. Though with any luck, they all look pretty self-explanatory!

And also a Bonus Scourge:

[thestitchesarchive]

shenanigans

part of learning digital art includes drawing shit really badly over and over, so what better but to practice with everyone's favorite test dummies from idw2! can I draw any better on a drawing tablet? debatable. am I sharing it anyways? yes. go my scarabs

[thestitchesarchive]

in the very end, the only thing that can free you (from art block) is the power of true love

(and maybe the desire to see more cyclonusxparagon on one's dash)

+ bonus flats because I'm quite proud of the shading.

[thestitchesarchive]

Exarchon is never gonna see this one coming

(Something something Paragon being the physical manifestation of Cyclonus’s soul is poetic and beautiful idk)

[thestitchesarchive]

woah hey what's this I found in the missing G1 Season 4 bin? Why if it isn't the Decepticon superweapon himself, Paragon! It was quite brave of the writers to try adding gay representation in 1986 with him and that Cyclonus romance subplot-

(perhaps one may consider this a very overdue addendum to this post by @bloodilymerry because why not, I already G1'd Provoke, might as well slowly work the rest of the gang in.)

[thestitchesarchive]

The Christmas Special: (very loosely) Cyclonus/Ultra Magnus/Scourge/Paragon

Magnus wasn’t entirely certain if this was a good idea. Not so soon after the treaty, when the wounds of war were so fresh. 

But it hadn’t really been his idea to begin with, but rather Daniel’s and his parents’. He was duly aware of the human traditions of celebration back on Earth: humans were always finding new reasons to make merriment and an excuse to bring their loved ones together. But the sentiment did not come nearly as easily to the likes of him, and he was certain it was even more foreign to the Decepticons he was on his way to, as was the tradition of gift-giving.

It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate, Carly had encouraged him. Just something small. It’s the thought and the effort that counts the most.

Something small. Well, of course- that was about all that could be afforded to prisoners on probation. He stopped at the gates of the secure ward and transformed back into his root mode, taking care that his trailer didn’t squash the three little boxes that he had brought with him. The guards at the steps waved him in without a word, but he was still stopped at the checkpoint.

“We’re going to need to check those boxes, sir.”

“Of course,” Magnus replied, his faceplate flustering a little as the guards perused the garish foil wrapping. Perhaps the decorating of the parcels had been an unnecessary flourish. He could almost feel Cyclonus scoffing at the frivolity of it, calling him stupidly sentimental for his adherence to human customs. But he would be lying if he told himself he didn’t miss that sort of reaction from the mech.

“And what is the purpose of these non-essentials?”

“They’re a small formality I was advised to bring to the occupants of Block Delta-A.”

“Go right on ahead, then.” The guard inspecting his packages gave him an amused scoff and closed the boxes back up, handing them back. Magnus gave him a nod and continued past the checkpoint, but not without one further remark from the mech. “And a ‘happy holidays’ to you too, heh.”

He made his way down the courtyard to the low-security ward, which was decently unoccupied. Not enough of the surrendered Decepticon forces had qualified for such preferential treatment, and the few that did had taken the opportunity just a few months in to flee Cybertron at their earliest and most unsupervised convenience, which happened to be just last week. It was a setback which had put a damper on their currently-shaky amnesty and given him plenty more reports to dig into back on base, which, if not for the urging of his human companions, he would currently be strut-deep within. 

But no matter. He had arrived. Alerted to his presence at the threshold, the door pager chimed to the occupants within the apartment, and a moment later came the pounding of footsteps down the hall as the door slid open.

“Magnus?”

It had been nearly too long, but the face of his old rival remained the same as he had ever remembered it. That stern, analytical gaze lingering over his own, and then trailing down to the festive packages in his arms. Magnus stepped forward, unsure how to open. “Cyclonus. … Merry Christmas.”

“Christmas?” The jet made a face. “What is a ‘Christmas’?” 

“Oh, don’t stand around in the doorway all afternoon!” A voice carried from down the hall, a second pair of pedes thumping towards them in response. The masked face of Paragon peeked out from around the corner, waving to him and beckoning him forth. “Come in, come sit down!”

Cyclonus gave him and his gifts one last questioning glance, then led the way in without another word.

“Long time no see to the both of you.” Magnus remarked, making his way inside to the common room. The apartment was tidy but rather sparse: being on probation did not make for a great allotment of decorations, it seemed. The brightest colors in the room surely were his company.

“Yes. I suppose being an Autobot commander leaves very little time in your schedule for visitation?” Paragon shrugged, seated on one of the couches against the opposite wall. Before him on the low table was a pile of datapads and stylus in varying colors, which he was clearly working on. 

“Not much. There is still quite the backlog of bureaucracy for me to sort through in the wake of the war’s end, but I suppose a break was in order.” He sat down on the couch opposite to the mech and his mess, and Cyclonus lingered in the space for a moment before joining Paragon on the other side. “It’s a human custom. The holiday of Christmas, they call it.”

“That explains your colorful packages, then,” Cyclonus said, his frame leaning ever-slightly towards Paragon on the seating across from him. He’d been working on his shows of affection, Magnus mused quietly. “Such noisy patterns. Only a human could create a packing cover that could be seen from the next star system over.”

“And it’s those same humans who urged me to bring you these gifts. There’s one for each of you here, not in any particular order.” Magnus said, stacking the three boxes in a relatively uncluttered corner of the table. “Where’s Scourge? Is he here?”

“Out with the Cybertron search parties hunting for those recent runners. As am I, though our work here is far less mobile.” Paragon helped him declutter the zone, stacking his padds into neat piles and pulling the parcels to the center of the table. “Though I suppose far less exciting. But such is the life of a liaison; Cyclonus has at least been of great help.” 

He took the jet’s hand in his as he said this, squeezing it tightly, and Magnus and him shared a brief glance. They still hadn’t talked about the nature of their relationship–relationships?–yet; not in the midst of Galvatron’s demise, and all the treaty-signings, and the trials, and the unresolved tensions from all of the surrendered–and at-large–Decepticon troops. If anything, he was glad Cyclonus had Paragon there to fill in the gaps for him. And Scourge. Primus knew he needed some sort of familiarity in this new world. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Well, if Scourge won’t be back for some time, why don’t you open these up now?” 

“Of course. I think a break is in order with good company. Cyc, would you like to start while I bring us some energon?”

Paragon stood, leaving his partner’s side, and Cyclonus obliged his orders, eyeing the fat little box on the top of the stack. Magnus nodded him on as he plucked it off the pile, pulling the top off to reveal a small, glimmering assortment of energon goodies. 

“They’re sweets, not ration-grade.” Magnus quickly explained, knowing the mech would probably offer some scoff. “They’re meant to taste nice. I didn’t know what kind you might like, so… these are my personal favorites. I can only assume you might have a similar taste.”

“I see. I suppose we’ll find out.” Cyclonus said, picking out one of the fuschia-colored jellies and holding it up to inspect before placing it gingerly in his intake, and pausing. “Mm. It does taste nice. Your intuition was correct.”

Magnus smiled softly, relishing the jet’s widened-opticked approval as he chewed. “Those pink ones are the best kind. If you like them, maybe I can bring you some more. … Schedule and ration cap permitting.”

“I’d like that. It has been some time since we last saw each other. And unless your circumstances have changed since our sentencings…”

“They haven’t.” Magnus stopped him. “And they won’t unless you say otherwise. Are you still with both Paragon and Scourge? They still treat you well?”

“Yes, both of them, and they treat me just as well.” Cyclonus hesitated. “If that doesn’t put you off of a continued relationship.”

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Perhaps when we have Decepticon integration fully figured out, which, by the looks of your living room table, isn’t going to be for some time. But it’s something I’m willing to work for. To wait for.”

Cyclonus’s face softened, digits thumbing over the rim of the box of goodies. Magnus gazed back wistfully.

“I’m not butting in, am I?” Paragon’s voice cut the thickening silence, holding a tray with three energon cubes atop it. And just as soon as the moment had started, it was over.

He had to remind himself to take it slow. It was his first time seeing Cyclonus in almost a year and a half and he still wasn’t sure how being an Autobot internee was going to affect his perception of him, or how the rest of Autobot command would take his cavorting with such high-ranking former Decepticons. He wasn’t sure if it helped that he and Paragon were both the liaisons chosen to represent their former army in the reintegration decisions: which was to say, their prison sentences. 

But as of now, he was merely a commander paying a courtesy visit to some working inmates in regard to a holiday, and those problems could wait. Especially as Paragon pulled the lid off the second present, revealing a custom-made chess set.

“An Earth game of war. The rules are intuitive; every piece can move in a certain way, and your goal is to capture the enemy ‘king’,” he explained, pointing out the relevant pieces as Paragon laid them out on the embossed gameboard. “I figure fellow officers like you could appreciate some strategic stimulation now that you’re all cooped up in these quarters.”

“How thoughtful! There really isn’t much else to do around here, so the enrichment is appreciated.” Paragon chuckled, twirling a pawn between his fingers before setting it back in its place. “Well, seeing as you’ve brought it to us, I assume you can teach us how to play? How about you play us now? Cyc and I against you, just like the old times.”

“It’s a two-player game, but I’ll take you both on.” Magnus chuckled. “You two will catch on quick. Once you do, I’ll show you the Cybertron variations of the game and leave you with that. Now, do you want to make the first move?”

Cyclonus gave his tank partner a nod, and with the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips, picked up a pawn.

–

Annoyingly, those two picked up the game of chess much more quickly than he’d anticipated. 

He had (in the back of his processor) hoped that the two would make a few more mistakes so he could school them with his experience before they got too good, but as a team they were a nigh-unstoppable force. They played a few rounds over the course of the hour, then Magnus showed them his two favorite variants, and the scene loosened up to mid-game conversation again. 

“And that’s checkmate. Well played for your first time at the Athenian Three-Prong.” Magnus said, capturing Cyclonus’s last rook. 

“You were a good challenge.” Cyclonus toppled his piece in defeat and held out a hand for his opponent to shake. “And you’d better come back to visit soon so I can best you at your own game.”

Magnus took his hand, squeezing it tight. “You can count on it.”

“So, what’s in the last box?” Paragon asked after a moment. “Should we open it now?”

“Of course.” Magnus said. Paragon acknowledged happily, passing the box to Cyclonus to do the honors. The lid came off, and the pink hand reached inside to retrieve a pen and slate set.

“Stationery.” He observed, rolling the thin laser etcher in his hand. “Of the more permanent kind, I take.”

“There is a novelty to permanent writing,” Paragon beamed, sliding the slates from the box to look over. “Something that can’t be erased by electric impulses. I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“And what else is here?” Cyclonus pulled one more thing from the box, a small set of colored vials. “Is this paint?”

“Gloss to highlight the etched letters. It’s also apparently frame-grade, as Arcee told me; she sends her regards.” Magnus explained. That portion of the gift was very clearly meant for someone who wasn’t currently here, but the other two filled in the gaps quite quickly.

“It’s like what Scourge wears on his digits, right?” Paragon looked to his partner. “I think he might appreciate it best.”

“He’ll whine about scuffing it up in the field,” Cyclonus huffed amusedly. “I can just hear him now, griping and getting all up and over us while we’re trying to work.”

“He’ll have plenty of paint to touch it up with, at the very least. And plenty of colors.”

“Then he’ll get all boastful about the job he did on his vanity. You think there’s any form of winning with his appearance in the limelight?”

The Autobot commander chuckled softly at his companion’s pre-emptive grumbling, finishing his energon. This was nice. Spending time without threat of destruction or skirmish and catching up in that slow, civilian way was a treat of its own. Primus knew he’d have hours of work to catch up on after his return to base, but for a moment, the worry of escapees and bureaucracy and integration felt a thousand light-years away.

But still it was a feeling far too delicate, too easily broken by the sound of pedes at the front door, the lock sliding open and the door with it. Paragon and Cyclonus rose from the couch and the attention shifted from the table at hand to the blue-plated hunter entering the scene.

“Well, speak of Unicron,” Magnus mumbled. 

“Ah! I wasn’t aware my briefing would be held here!” Scourge quipped, fluffing his wings behind him as he dashed to his partners, giving Cyclonus and Paragon each a peck on the cheek before turning to his company. “Ultra Magnus. What business brings you here?”

“I came to deliver gifts. Your timing was quite good.”

“And yours as well! I’ve just informed your high command that I, along with your search crews, have apprehended the runaways. They’re being returned to one of the wards.” Scourge announced. “They didn’t make it far, just a few dozen astromiles into the depths of the planet, not far enough to evade my scanners.”

“That doesn’t sound favorable to their case. Fleeing the planet is one thing, but infiltrating the core sounds far more nefarious.” Paragon sighed. “I’ll have to rewrite their entire case summaries to include the infraction...”

“But you caught them before they could cause any harm?” Magnus asked. Scourge nodded with a fervent excitement.

"They weren't well-armed. But it shouldn't matter either way, given their fugitive status."

“Well regardless, you’ve saved us from a great deal of possible danger with your talents. And returned just in time for me to see you all together for the first time in months." Magnus smiled. "All in all, I'd say it’s a Christmas miracle.”

“Christmas?” Scourge asked. “What’s a ‘Christmas’?”