#tf kickback

[f1dgets]

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Enjoy the first 6 pages to my delusional comic, I'm finishing up the other pages this week.

[revelboo]

Hiii, is it possible to get a future view on what life holds with the insecticons? I find the idea of a nest full of insecticon teenagers amusing as well as concerning.

Sure!

Domestic

Insecticons x Reader

• “Carrier.” Smiling as Benji groans, you have to mentally correct yourself. Styg. Because he’s decided he’s too big for his human name. ‘You’re covered in dirt,’ you mutter licking your thumb and going up on tiptoe to reach the smudge on his cheek as the much bigger mech vents dramatically, but he allows it. And you smile when his head lowers to bump your own as the tiny, blue sparkling recharging in the sling against your back warbles sleepily. ‘You’re not hanging out with that little seeker are you?’ You ask and he groans louder. ‘She’s trouble. You two aren’t fooling around, right?’

• Clearing his vents when one of his older sons desperately makes optic contact, Shrapnel adds another log to the fire and stalks over. And you frown when he grabs your arm to spin you toward him, grinning to show his sharp denta. “Let him frag the seeker if he wants. It’s what Insecticons do best, best,” he purrs, ignoring the youngling making disgusted noises when he drags you into his frame to slide a thigh between your own. ‘I’m going to need massive amounts of therapy now, sire. So thanks,’ Stygian mutters and he chuckles as your newest sparkling chirps hungrily at your back. “What’s wrong with fragging?” He growls as you laugh and lay a hand across his mouth to push him away. “Makes more Insecticons and it’s the best thing in life, life.”

• “Behave. Though, maybe it's time you have the talk,” you say as Styg’s plating ruffles up in teenage disgust. Not that you blame him, because his dads have no censors. “Ignore your dad. He’s old and only has one thing on his mind,” you add as Shrapnel hisses at you. “Two if you count eating.” Smiling as Styg’s face turns up toward the high ceiling of the lair, you’re rubbing another smudge of dirt off his arm as he gives you an aggrieved look. Making it hard to resist the urge to ask again if he’s fooling around with the seeker he has a crush on. Hopefully he’s not since her dads aren’t exactly on friendly terms with your husbands. ‘Stop embarrassing him. Let him go tear his own place in the soft meat of this world. Eat and frag. Make your own hive,’ Bombshell calls from where he’s watching a soap opera with several sparklings recharging on him.

• “I don’t want to talk about this. Why can’t you all be normal?” Stygian growls and Shrapnel smiles crookedly, circling you as you give him a look. ‘Bring back something tasty and still squirming for your younger siblings,’ he says as you retreat and he follows. ‘They need to learn how to tear the throat out of something and make the kill.’ Venting as your eyes flash, his rumbling shifts to a coaxing purr. And his son is hurrying away, growling about therapy again as he catches you and tugs you into his frame.

• Looking up with a growl when Shrapnel hands him another sparkling, Bombshell chuckles and watches you get tossed over a shoulder. And Kickback is looking over from where he’s teaching a few of the older sparklings neocybex. Hears his brother’s frustrated chirp as Shrapnel carries you off while you laugh. Probably to add to the hive again. Sitting up to scatter sparklings, he hands off the smallest to Kickback before following you and Shrapnel as the other mech swears at him and frowns down at the warbling sparkling in his arms.

[brightestlulu]

couple guys i drew yesterday :3 it was fun cuz i hadnt drawn some of them before so i got to come up with designs for them

[symphonic88]

Some unfinished sketches and fanart I’ve been hoarding

[vibingmaquia]

Insecticons playing with questionable parts. Wonder who´s winning 𓆦𓆣𓆨𓆑𓆤𓆧𓆬

My entry for Swindle´s Wild Cards zine!! You can find the full zine with the other artists amazing pieces and mine here! @thefigeproject

[morbid-curiosity-iguess]

Fanart for some fics I’ve been hooked on recently!

MDNI🔞

I’ve been hooked on the insecticon storyline by @revelboo and wanted to get some of my ideas out!

I’m still learning to draw mechs so apologies if they’re not the best 😅

From the fics:

- You (don’t) know me - part 20

- stress

- treat

- self-care

[transformers-spike]

flies into ur asks like death on wings walk with me spike i had an idea, i know ur prolly like "this fucking guy again" i'm sorry U-U you've opened doors to my mind palace i didn't know existed so now we both suffer my thought process was out camping on our hypothetical wooded property just to enjoy the outdoors didn't realize the ovarian sharks were so damn close. boom wake up with blood on ya gotta head back early aNYWAYS Kickback goes to hunt for something that he can eat without his brothers taking it and finds the reader idk farking around in the land behind their house or something while on their period ofc they jumped immediately cause delicious scent of injury, perfect snack for a quick refuel to continue looking for more food (to inevitably bring back to feed his other two brothers)

que O FUCK WE GONNA DIEE but SIKE no idea how but you somehow manage to talk your way out of being devoured by offering to give him food in return for being let go but one thing leads to another and kickback decides if ur willing to provide him food your a good soft, tasty smelling mate, no hesitation shreds ur pants dangles you over his face, intake is latched directly onto your bleeding puth with the swiftness!! and glossa dipping in he just starts scooping out the blood and subsequent clots and just purring forever (holy shit what weed did i buy it makes me evil) horrifying but gawd damn it feels so good especially when he kneads your middle pressing down slightly on your ovaries trying to push more tasty out the pressure (personally) the heat of his huge hand and the vibration of his purrs are so blissful you are terrified and completely convinced ur gonna die considering he wanted to eat you a few minutes ago, there's no two ways about it ur beyond scared but this is kinda making up for that (OR MAYBE I'M JUST FUCKING INSANE EITHER WAY) i'm glad to see you kickin chicken i hope all stays solid and the future aligns in your favor. As always much love from ur local dragon

nghhhh @drunkeninlovesailor come get your food

This is rlly hot and your brain is huge

[drunkeninlovesailor]

Hive for a Wolfpack

Prologue - The Crooked, the Cradle

Here comes the prologue of this monstrosity I'm making. It currently has 9-10 more chapters. It was originally meant to have like 6 but chapter 4 had to be split many times in order to make stuff viable. Primus knows how much I owe @revelboo for the inspiration she gave me for this thing. Please check out her stories, they're fire. And a big big thanks to @transformers-spike for motivating me and helping me out through it all.

In the natural order of things, a community is founded on cooperation and order among its members. To each, their unique strengths and the role that comes thereof. The strongest members protect the weak, provide the community with food and resources, allowing everyone to thrive. A community must desist from individualistic desires which only serve the self, creating internal turmoil which may prove fatal for the collectivity. Likewise, all members must strive towards a common goal, which ultimately consists in the wellbeing of the community itself. 

A community must, above all things, ensure coordination and harmony within its ranks through the election of the appropriate leadership. Said leadership is more often represented by an elected party or a singular individual which is distinguished through its exceptional moral and intellectual qualities and its total devotion to the community.

In the absence of said leadership, the community is bound to succumb to chaos, disorder and the prevalence of short-term individual desires. The community thus ceases existing, as its fundamental principle and lifeblood is compromised. Its former members disperse or engage in competition against one another for resources. The weakest, no longer protected and nurtured by community rule, perish. 

“Don’t you dare- dare! It’s mine to eat… eat!” Shrapnel snarls as Bombshell drags the meat away and proceeds to gnaw on it. 

“And how exactly would you defend that statement, given that I was the one who scouted for the meal?”

And it was true. Bombshell had found the tent after the umpteenth hunt for the furry organics with side-facing optics had been inconclusive. There had been plenty upon their arrival, allowing for grand feasts. There had been peace. 

Then, either their gluttonous intakes had decimated the resident population, or the organics had learned to fear them and thus adapted for better concealment. Not escape. Never escape. Once they spotted an organic, it meant certain doom. 

Shrapnel hisses and transforms, pincers sharp and clicking aggressively. Bombshell follows and so does Shrapnel’s attack as the latter aims for the dents the Decepticon army had managed to leave on Bombshell’s thick plating. 

They had been so close. And if the fraggers had actually managed to extinguish Bombshell’s spark, there would be one less intake to fill. 

Silent, Kickback slithers underneath the fighting pair, slips in a crumpled ball of green fabric and grabs the chunk of meat, gobbling it down before the other two can even realize the exchange. 

Shrapnel attempts a slicing move that sends Bombshell staggering backwards — mindful of the dents, and bites down on the meat. 

It’s stuffy and dry and the texture feels more like interwoven wires rather than the chewy mesh that characterizes organics. Bombshell, however, no longer seems willing to wrestle him over the food. Instead, he stares at Kickback as the latter retreats into a corner, chewing the stolen prize. 

“Look what we’ve become,” he turns back to Shrapnel. “Hiding, fighting each other for scraps. We’re turning into what we’ve always been accused of being.”

The other’s faceplates twist in disdain. “We’re only trying to survive, genius- genius.”

And that was also true. 

They had joined the Decepticons not with dreams of grandeur, but with the promise that somewhat, finally, they’d have a place to call their own. A hive to thrive in, a queen to guide them. A leader who’d recognize the prowess and superiority of their frame, and likewise free them of the stigma it brought along. 

None of that had happened. 

Bombshell’s claws rake the dull soil. He transforms back through a pattern of sharp clicks and shifts and Shrapnel does the same. 

It was a feat not many other cybertronians possessed, the ability to shift and retain their abilities in both forms — actually, he’d argue that their altmodes were even faster, stronger, more agile than their native frames. An edge that made them akin to predacons, alongside whom their ancestors roamed the rich lands of Cybertron before the age of civilization. An edge which, by the very nature of its perfection, had remained unchanged through time.

But Megatron was blind to their advantage, and all his talking about equality and the necessity to recognize the bot, not the frame, didn’t deter the chittering intakes and sharp glossas. Nor did Megatron stop them, the fragging hypocrite. No, he forced the insecticons under his rule and blatantly abused their trust. Bombshell grits his denta as he remembers feeling seen for the first time when he heard Megatron promising to shatter those heinous double-standards and lead them into a just world once and for all.

He had fought like a madmech to prove he was worthy of seeing that promise kept.

And what has all of that gotten him?

What has all that fighting and scrapping and then tolerating and keeping his claws tucked gotten him? 

What has it gotten all his brothers? 

Getting tossed like scrap by the leader they once admired.

That’s what it got ‘em.

A hive might reject a queen, but a queen shall never reject a hive. It was simply against nature, the very essence of natural order twisted into a pitiful imitation.

A community without a leader is marked for downfall. A hive without a queen is nothing. 

Without a queen, they were few, weakened, hungry and disorganized. They had already started biting at each other’s fuel lines. It wouldn’t be long until they offlined one another. 

And despite all this, they still needed to collaborate lest Megatron finalized their execution or the ball of mud they’re currently stranded on was depleted of food and available energy sources.

Kickback, as if sensing the turmoil underneath Bombshell’s plating, shifts closer with a coo and his wings flutter lightly behind him.

“Well, at least we have no Megatron treating us like foolish beasts, no more begging for energon and no submitting to those who look down upon us! We can survive, no, thrive better on our own. We are faster,” his mandibles click, “stronger, we are superior to each and every one of them! Even our dear leader.”

That word is hissed. 

“He promised to protect us,” Kickback continues, his silver tongue running. “But instead he enslaved us, forced us into submission, and decimated our ranks!”

“Unworthy, unworthy!” Shrapnel rasps, sharp denta bared. He growls at Kickback and for a moment the smaller insecticon fears his brother’s poorly-concealed anger will turn into aggression. But Shrapnel just growls and clicks as he pushes against his bigger brother, hoping to stir him for another fight. 

It was the only way to keep the anger at bay. This, and hunting. 

But Shrapnel had never been as good a hunter as he was a fighter. 

“He abandoned us.” Bombshell declares with finality, not giving in to his brother’s provocation.

“We’ll make it, without them.” Kickback adds, and Shrapnel finally relents. 

Or at least, so it seems. But the big insecticon pounces on Kickback and the latter jumps back with a startled chirp. “Enough talking. I’m hungry, hungry,” he growls. “Go scout for food- food.”

The jittering bot draws his antennae back. 

“We need recon, Kickback.” Bombshell adds.

And Kickback knows he has to make use of his greatest asset to appease his brothers’ hunger. His tanks churn. He needs fuel too.

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