Transformers sideblog because I maxxed out 5000 followers on my primary and I want to follow people;
Multiship
Occasionally dump doodles and writings
18+ They/them
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love seeing revisionism in the wild âfree the nipple never meant you can walk around topless every where thatâs still sexual harassment it just meant for like breastfeeding and stuffâno it literally means you should be able to walk around topless anywhere because get this. breasts arenât fucking sexual organs.
I remember when I was about 12, I watched a show on TLC that followed people as they got somewhat uncommon medical procedures.
There was one episode with a trans woman getting different gender-affirming operations, including breast implants. It showed the procedure, and (what I found so fascinating that it's stuck with me for decades), as soon as the doctor put the implant in, a censor blur popped up on the nipple.
And you just know there was a meeting between the TLC lawyers and the editors and producers of the show to discuss what the difference was between a "man nipple" (can be shown) and a "woman nipple" (no no must obscure, 'tis naughty). And they decided that as soon as the implant goes in and the nipple has more mass behind it, that's the moment when it becomes a woman's nipple and must be hidden to comply with TV rules.
But it's the same nipple. On the same person. I know what it looks like; I just saw it. But TV and obscenity rules are rules, and the rules say woman nipple = sexual and therefore explicit, but man nipple = neutral, just fine.
"Free the Nipple" was calling out arbitrary bullshit like that, because someone just existing with their body parts should not be considered obscene, and the double standard that men can be topless but women can't is so blatantly ridiculous. All nipples are just nipples. If you get turned on or bothered by them, that's on you.
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The soothing of his joints is just as sacred as the defiling of them
To be trusted with healing and not just destruction
To be trusted with putting a mech back together
That he can still look at you and see something new, in spite of all his experience
You blame yourself for not knowing enough, not having been through enough
When that's precisely what he needs from you, about you
That wonderful naivete where the hope for a better tomorrow exists
And if not a future, where your existence equates a space in which momentary peace is found.
Who can blame you for having grown without bloodthirst in your coding?
Even if in the name of survival, Starscream cannot fully convince himself that your gentleness is borne of a weak nature.
"He won't kill anyone," is said in frustration, before mechs inevitably have to confront the fact that they believed killing was normal and thought you the abnormal one.
That never sat well with anyone, always quashed the hushed whispers after.
Starscream was always torn between protecting that and tearing it down.
Your survival had been the priority, after all.
But as the vorns dragged on, he couldn't help but wonder just how much of you would be saved, if you continued to be forced into the path of destruction.
Especially since you couldn't deal that destruction on others, it would only turn inwards.
Starscream often found himself curled around a spark on the brink of shattering, but no respite was ever found.
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Going on a trip. Sentient jet flying having to fly in non-sentient jet. Idk man lol\
---
It had been a while since you traveled.
Packing was tiring, but at least youâd gotten your things in relatively organized piles on your floor.
You let out a cry of dismay when Starscream pops into your room, squashing your neatly folded stack of travel clothes under a pede.
He curses when it nearly trips him over, rough and whistling glyphs harsh on his glossa, as if it was your fault youâd not made the entirety of your space available for a totally random landing.
âWhy are you packing your belongings? Are you fleeing the city-state?â
â...No? Iâm going on holiday.â
His jealousy was much more evident than his curiosity, but he was all the same intrigued in your holiday.
âWhere are you going?â
âUh. Itâs not that far. Flightâll take maybe two hours.â
âOh? Flight?â
That got his attention. Of course it did. Not where on Earth you were going, but merely that flight was involved.
âHumans donât have wings,â Starscream says suspiciously, after a moment.
â...No. We donât.â
âSo how are you going to fly there?â
âUm.â You cock your head, more bewildered than anything. âHow does a⌠Plane⌠Not know about⌠Planes?â
âI am no mere plane,â Starscream snaps. âI am a jet. A top-class aerial frame. Not that youâd understand.â
The last part tacked on pretty much automatically, but you do have to huff and roll your eyes at the truthfulness of it. You were no military personnel. The only âaerial frameâ available to you was the humble commercial plane.
Still, you sigh at the unspoken interest in his optics. Perhaps it was that expression on his faceplate that made you speak before you could think - youâd extended an invitation for him to join you.
âFine, do you want to come?â
âI suppose I could spare some time to investigate other parts of this wretched planet.â
Thatâs a huge victory as far as things go with your shitty guardian angel.
But all the same, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosens a bit at the promise of an aerial frame watching over your flight.
âTwo hours, you said,â Starscream says suddenly. âOver what distance?â
You tell him. Starscreamâs lip plate curls in disgust.
"That is utterly horrific."
"Well, it's what we got."
"I'll just meet you there. What you have to think about, really, is is how to entertain me when I inevitably have to wait close to two hours for your arrival."
He gave it a good attempt.
Had transformed and jetted off on the morning of your departure, before you'd even left your house. Before you'd properly woken up, even. But you're at the airport when he suddenly pops in front of you, a disorienting jumpscare to the tune of clashing metal. You try to calm your racing heart as he nearly trips over an errant suitcase and curses in some unknown language.
"I thought you were gonna fly there first,â You finally manage, and itâs a great credit to yourself that you manage not to cuss out loud at him in the airport. âNo?"
"I would have," Starscream says acidly, "but it appears that l am⌠tethered to you, while we exist in the same realm. Deeply unfortunate."
Your nose wrinkles, unsure what to think as you absorb the newest guardian angel discovery.
"That⌠sucks?" You finally offer, hiding your relief at not having to be alone. Not alone in your flight. (Not alone in⌠Life.)
It works.
Starscream huffs, but stays put. "It does."
"Fly with me, then."
The words are out of your mouth perhaps a bit too casually.
Starscream suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings. Humans milling about, dragging their bags behind them, looking all manner of vexed - ranging from mildly sleep deprived to positively warlike at check-in counters.
Wonderfully entertaining.
But your guardian angel wasn't yet satisfied - you hadn't answered his question of what flying together would entail.
Honestly, you'd been trying to dodge giving a direct answer because of how he'd reacted last time, in the backseat of your car while you tried to get your driving license on hardmode.
He'd saved your life then, but still. It was unfair to expect you to think about a sentient plane having to fly in a non-sentient plane.
Right?
You cringe when a screech only you can hear rises from his vocalizer. Well, at least, the view of the runway had saved you from having to explain.
"ARE THOSE SPARKLESS...? HOLLOWED OUT... FLIGHT FRAMES?"
"We didn't kill anybody to make those planes," You reason. "It's not what you think-"
"INCONCEIVABLE!"
Interesting.
You're caught between telling him to calm down and being surprised at his reaction - in the sense that he'd put on such superior airs when bragging about his frame, even with reference to other vehicles that could fly - and yet, here he was, pressed against the window with all the desperation of a mech staring at a fallen comrade.
"It's not alive," You try.
"What it is is that you lack respect."
".. Dude."
"And here I thought sparkless vehicons were shocking enough. No, that I could still respect. But a flight frame? And you would bring it to heel, presume to be its master?"
"Dude, seriously. It's not alive the same way you are."
You bite back 'it's just a plane' at the last second, because it'd probably kickstart a shrieking rage, and you really wanted to catch that flight. "You still wanna come?"
"Of course," Starscream splutters. "I need to see firsthand what you monsters have done to that plane."
You open your mouth. Close it. Sigh instead. You turn your attention to how he'll be able to fly with you once you board.
Checking your phone, you realize seats are filling up fast. "... Just wondering if you guys can, like, stand in the corridor comfortably...?â
His glare is withering. "NoâŚ? Okay.â
You end up very reluctantly forking out for a second seat for what looks like nobody at all.
But to you, your guardian angel, in his mass-displaced size, had crammed himself into a tiny economy space, wings taking up the entire breadth of the seating.
You scowl at him, realizing that you have even less space.
He is entirely unrepentant, too busy being horrified and vocal about his disgust.
"These internals haven't been cleaned in vorns."
"I don't know what a vorn is, but I agree."
Passengers shoot you weird looks as you seemingly make conversation with the air. Thankfully, you'd undergone trial by fire when it came to your guardian angel, and the stares weren't as embarrassing as they used to be.
He is also not a good travel buddy. He had much to say about taxi and takeoff, imperiously comparing that of the commercial liner to his own capabilities.
You point out the irony of him thinking less of a commercial plane when he'd been defending it earlier - but he just hisses at you, claws digging into the armrest, and reflexively tells you that you understand nothing.
You're happy to leave it alone until about an hour into the journey. You close your eyes against the nausea only to be jeered at by your shitty guardian angel for being a wimp in the air.
"'ll puke all over you," You finally threaten. "Iâll do it. In your seams."
That shuts him up for the remainder of your journey, at least.
Though he does grumble under his breath at the lost efficiency - had you just agreed to fly in his cockpit (nevermind that he'd recoiled at every turn at the thought of human oils in his interior), you'd have arrived an hour ago.
"That would break so many international laws," You mutter, and there is no more discussion of flying in Terran airspace for now, though he does look (dangerously) thoughtful.
A queasy round of turbulence later, you arrive.
Starscream's up so quickly that he phases briefly through the seats, and you, just to get to the aisle.
"Finally. We're leaving immediately."
You stretch in your tiny economy seat, unhurried as the chaos of the overhead storage unfolds around you.
"Can't. Gotta wait for my luggage."
"Your... Oh, for crying out loud."
Starscream caves at the half-hour mark, impressive because you thought he would last only fifteen minutes.
His pacing stops mid-step.
"This is worse than the Pits. I'm going outside."
"Don't cavort with the planes. They're working."
"I am not cavorting. It's ethnographic field research."
Whatever makes him happy.
"Don't go too far," You drawl.
Your guardian angel gives you the middle finger before phasing off somewhere.
You wonder how far he'll be able to go before the tether pulls him back to you.
Idly, you look out the window. And do a double take.
"Fuck's sake," You groan, as you watch a suspiciously Starscream-coloured fighter jet taxi smugly down the runaway like a peacock among hens, clearly showing off to the commercial liners (which you'd told him weren't alive, but whatever).
No one batted an eye at the bizarre display on the runaway because no one could see it, which you are grateful for - while simultaneously exasperated that there are no eyewitnesses to your exasperation.
Heâd have to be back soon enough, anyway, given your newfound knowledge about the tether. However, he does reappear quicker than youâd thought - the fuzzy prickle of the tether makes itself known about ten minutes later, and your big metal angel pops back into view. It was because, heâd griped, there was absolutely nothing to see around the airport, after heâd grown bored of the commercial planes. And at least watching humans be distraught would be more entertaining.
"That bad?â
He informs you with a shudder that attempting conversation with sparkless planes had been less than titillating, and in fact rather unsettling.
"Also, they don't know how to appreciate a good frame even when it's right under their noses," he adds, as an afterthought. "And your hangar is more isolated than a dead moon. Primus. At least in here, watching distraught fleshlings struggle to reclaim their possessions is entertaining."
You roll your eyes.
"Well, I don't want to be entertainment today."
Still no sign of your suitcase.
Starscream shifts impatiently from pede to pede, when something catches his optic.
"Look over there," he murmurs, voice low as he points across the carousel.
You squint, confused.
"The woman?"
"No, you idiot. Not the human. Can't you see him?"
You squint some more - and ever so slightly, you begin to make out the faintest outline of a figure, a shimmer of dark blue standing behind her.
"Wait. Is that, like, one of your friends?"
Starscream's own optics are narrowed, his arms folded. There seems to be a glare-off happening across the carousel.
"Okay. Not friends. Gotcha."
"And there's another one. Primus, can't a mech get any peace?"
"Where?"
Starscream jabs a clawed digit impatiently somewhere across the hall.
You look carefully, and manage to catch a shimmer of deep crimson red, the angular points of a helm.
His human is the big, bulky sort, all muscles but with an unexpectedly kind and placid look to his face. The man laughs, says something to the shape next to him.
"Do I look like that when I talk to you?"
"Crazier," Starscream answers, briefly lifting a servo in the direction of the red shimmer.
"You know that guy, too?"
"Yes. Now stop badgering me with question after question. They're not even good questions."
"... Well, I just thought of a good one. How did they get here? I didn't see any other empty seats on the plane, so they didn't take up a seat like you."
At that moment, the woman across the carousel digs around in her bag and a small music player clatters to the ground. You watch as she hastily scoops it up, looking apologetic at the blue outline behind her - and your eyes widen with realization.
"You guys can possess stuff?"
"Again with the questions. Of course we can."
"You could have done that the whole time, and you made me fork out extra money for a second seat??"
Starscream examines his claws, looking miffed that you'd deny him a proper seat.
"It wasn't even first-class."
"I can't afford that!"
Your shitty guardian angel has the audacity to look bored, waiting until your outrage peters into infuriated spluttering.
âI was gonna get a better hotel,â You moan.
Starscream doesnât show any outward response, but when you blink awake to the first rays of sun in a hard hostel bed, a stack of crumpled cash by your pillow is accompanied by the tang of ozone - the feathered signature of a red and silver crow.
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